Chapter 4

Jax Rourke looked at Sarah, truly looked at her. He saw the dirt, the exhaustion, the limp, the scar on her leg.

But he also saw the fire in her eyes, the resilience that hadn't quite been snuffed out.

"The Hollow isn't an easy place," he said. "We don't have much. But we are free from men like Sterling."

Sarah finally found her voice. "I have nowhere else to go."

Jax nodded. "Come with me."

The journey to The Hollow was arduous. Sarah, weakened and in pain, struggled to keep up. Jax was patient, offering a steadying arm when the path grew steep.

The Hollow was a cluster of simple cabins nestled in a hidden valley. It was poor, rustic, but clean and orderly. People stopped their work to watch them pass, their faces curious but not unkind.

Jax led her to a small, empty cabin. "This will be yours."

Life in The Hollow was hard, but it was honest. Everyone worked. Everyone contributed.

Sarah, despite her limp, insisted on doing her share.

She remembered the old journals her family kept, filled with knowledge about sustainable farming, herbal remedies, forgotten crafts.

She started a small garden, using techniques from the journals. The soil in The Hollow was poor, but her plants thrived.

She showed the women how to make stronger dyes for their woven goods from local plants.

She helped set up a system for bartering and sharing resources, a simple co-op.

Slowly, she earned their respect. They saw her intelligence, her quiet determination.

Jax watched her. He saw past the scars, past the trauma. He saw her spirit.

"Your family's knowledge is a gift, Sarah," he told her one evening, as they sat by a communal fire.

"It's all I have left of them," she said.

"It's a powerful legacy," Jax said. "You're using it to help us all."

He often sought her counsel. He valued her mind.

One day, he found her by the stream, her face etched with a familiar sadness.

He sat beside her. "The scars on your leg, they don't define you, Sarah."

She looked away.

He gently touched her cheek, turning her face towards him. "Your spirit shines brighter than any superficial mark."

His kindness was a balm to her wounded soul.

In The Hollow, she began to heal.

Their affection grew, quiet and deep.

One spring day, with the wildflowers blooming, Jax asked Sarah to marry him.

There was no fancy ring, no grand proposal. Just him, his honest eyes, his steady heart.

"I would be honored, Jax," she whispered.

They married in a simple ceremony, surrounded by the people of The Hollow. It was heartfelt, genuine.

For the first time in a long, long time, Sarah felt safe. She felt loved.

She was home.