Page 108 of Bound in Ashes

“This fucking pig was stealing from us,” Jack said.

“What are you talking about, Jack?”

“Tell her, Travis,” Jack said.

He wasn’t yelling anymore, and Travis—panicked as he was—realized that was a very bad thing.

“I’m sorry. I just… I needed to make sure I had…”

“Travis, talk,” I said.

Something in my voice snapped him back into place. He stood up, and Jack released his shirt.

“I know it was wrong, and Levi—all of you—have been nothing but great to me. To all of us. But I was just worried and…scared,” Travis said, looking at me, imploring me with his eyes to understand.

“We’re all worried and scared.”

Jack looked away from Travis and out at the crowd. Then settled on me. “But you put yourself in ahead of everyone else, didn’t you, Travis?”

He seemed to deflate in front of me. “It was just a little bit. I snuck a few things here and there. Just in case there wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to be hungry,” Travis said.

“Just in case, huh?” Jack said.

I noticed his other hand then, noticing that he was holding a pillowcase—a very bulky, heavy-looking pillowcase. I could make out the shape of canned goods, so many they were testing the threads of the pillowcase.

“I’m sorry,” Travis said.

I glanced at Jack, worried for a split second that he might crack Travis in the face with it, even though he deserved it.

Then I looked back at Travis. “You were stealing from us?”

“I told you, I’m sorry,” he said.

He stood up straight, wiping his cheeks, though I wasn’t sure that I had seen a tear fall.

“I can’t believe that,” I said, looking at Jack.

“I can,” Jack said.

It wasn’t I told you so, but it may as well have been.

I was stupid for advocating for Travis, but then remembered why I was doing this. For those girls, the others.

For myself.

I glared at Travis.

“There has to be punishment for this. You just can’t⁠—”

“You’re right, Asia. There does have to be punishment for this,” Jack said as he moved his hand toward his knife.

“Jack, wait!”

But he was already moving.

Moving so quickly that I was a second behind processing—as he retrieved the knife from his sheath. He didn’t swing wildly. He didn’t hesitate either.

Just used a fluid, practiced motion to slide the knife between Travis’s ribs like they weren’t even there.