Chapter 10 Is This Real Life? #2
She shifts, the chair creaking as she leans forward like she’s about to say something else. But before the silence can stretch further, the cabin door bursts open with a loud crack, the hinges groaning under the force.
Pain explodes down my neck the second my head snaps toward the sound, a sharp, unforgiving reminder that I need to seriously stop doing that.
But the pain fades fast as my attention locks on to the man stepping through the doorway.
Something shifts in my brain. A weird sense of déjà vu settles over me like a heavy fog. Have we met before?
His face is set in a grim scowl, those deep brown eyes stormy and unreadable, shoulders stiff with tension. He moves with confidence, each step measured, like someone who doesn’t waste energy on unnecessary movement.
And holy shit.
This man is gorgeous.
Like, distractingly gorgeous.
And I look like a trash panda that got beat with a baseball bat. Awesome. Great. Just great.
I take one second, just one, to admire him, because why the hell not? Tall, lean, built like someone who knows how to throw a punch. His short, dark brown hair is slightly messy, just enough to look effortlessly good.
But it’s the tattoos that grab my attention.
Intricate designs of trees, flowers, and woodland creatures weave up his forearms, disappearing beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his black Henley.
Is the rest of him covered like that?
Focus, Lyla.
Behind him, Joanie practically leaps in, the sharp sound of her boots snapping me out of my thoughts.
“—didn’t even wait!” she shouts, her words laced with fury. “You just left me standing there, you ass!”
He doesn’t flinch. If anything, his scowl deepens, frustration rolling off him in waves. He jerks his head toward me, clearly done with whatever argument they’ve been having.
“Can you get this one to shut up?” he asks, his tone flat, but also deliciously deep.
Hello.
My eyes flick to Joanie, who’s staring at me with a megawatt smile.
I glance back at him, my voice dry as desert sand. “I’ve been trying for months.”
Trish snorts, hiding her amusement behind a sip from her mug. The corner of Joanie’s mouth twitches, clearly relieved I’m able to make jokes.
He just stares, one eyebrow ticking up slightly, like he’s not sure whether to laugh or groan. “Perfect,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m surrounded by comedians.”
Joanie comes over and sits on one side of the bed and gives my hand a squeeze. “Hey, boss bitch.” Her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
“Hey, kiddo.” I grin because damn, it’s so good to see her. “You okay?”
She scoffs, blinking the moisture away. “I should be asking you that, ya fuckin’ loon.”
“Nah, this is just a typical Tuesday.” I wink and give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
My smile fades when I turn back to who I guess is Jacob.
But I’m slightly less annoyed about being tied down now.
I lift my wrist, jingling the cuffs with emphasis, the iron clanking against the bed frame.
“Look,” Jacob says, his voice gruff, his tone dropping as his eyes stay locked on mine. “We appreciate what you did more than we could ever say, but we don’t know you. We’ve been burned before by people we thought we could trust.”
Okay. Fair point, but it doesn’t mean I like it. The tension in the room thickens, pressing down on all of us.
He nods toward my arm. Matter-of-fact. Unapologetic. “Just a precaution until we know more about you and your real interest in that prison.”
Joanie huffs, crossing her arms as her glare sharpens. “This is still bullshit.”
Jacob doesn’t even glance at her. His eyes stay on mine, unwavering, waiting for my reaction.
I hold his gaze, the ache in my body almost forgotten as something else rises—anger, sure, but also exhaustion and understanding. I let out a breath, forcing myself to push past the frustration. “Fine,” I say, my voice firm. “But I’m not a fan of chains. At least, not in this sense.”
Just for a second, his mouth twitches. Almost like he wants to smile but won’t let himself. And his eyes flood with heat. “Noted,” he says, voice dropping even lower. How is that possible?
Joanie rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. Her hand squeezes mine as her eyes meet mine, the sharpness softening.
“You okay, boss?” she asks, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.
I nod, though it’s a small, tired gesture. My body feels like it’s been run over by a truck, but I manage to meet her gaze. “Yeah,” my voice cracks as I grip her hand tightly, reminding myself that she is okay. “I’m right here with you.”
For a moment, silence settles over the room, broken only by the sound of the wind rattling the cabin walls and the faint creak of Trish’s rocking chair. She leans back, her eyes flicking between us, her expression unreadable but attentive.
Jacob clears his throat, cutting through the quiet. I barely have time to turn toward him before another figure steps into the room, stealing the air from my lungs.
This guy is huge—built like a damn bear—his massive frame filling the doorway like a blockade. Fiery red hair tied back in a low bun, a thick beard that matches. Bulkier than Jacob, though his arms lack the intricate tattoos that coil up Jacob’s skin like living art.
He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t acknowledge the tension in the room. Just moves across the space and leans against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest, his biceps flexing just enough to make me believe he could rip the bedframe in half if he wanted to.
His stare locks on to mine.
Unyielding. The kind of look designed to unnerve, to press, to see what I do next.
Naturally, my first instinct is to see how far I can push him.
However, Jacob doesn’t let me.
His presence pulls me back in, reclaiming the room without even trying.
Trish stands, motioning for Joanie to follow. “Come on. I’ll get you set up with Earl. He needs another set of hands for making traps.”
Jacob reaches for the chair Trish just vacated, dragging it closer to the edge of my bed before sinking down.
Joanie doesn’t budge. Instead, she looks at me, waiting.
Her unspoken question is clear: You good?
I nod. “I’m good. Give me half an hour. If they don’t leave by then, you can come storming back in with Sweetness.”
Joanie’s lips twitch, and then a devilish chuckle escapes her. She turns on her heel and heads for the door, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Three sets of confused eyes swing toward me.
I shrug. “Sweetness is the name of my knife.”
Silence.
A good, solid ten seconds of unmoving, blank stares.
Then, Trish snorts, barely managing to cover her mouth before wild laughter bursts free. She turns on her heel, shaking her head as she disappears down the hall.
Bear Man gives me nothing. Just stands there like an immovable wall.
Jacob, on the other hand?
His gaze tilts skyward, and he pulls in a deep, restrained breath—the kind of exhale that screams irritation. “Lord, give me strength.”
From down the hall, Trish’s voice echoes back in a truly terrible Austrian accent. “I’ll be back.”
Jacob lets out a sharp huff—a noise that sounds suspiciously close to a laugh.
Then, just like that, the amusement vanishes.
His posture shifts. He leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his expression sharpening.
“Lyla.”
Just my name. That’s all. And yet, it sends a delectable shiver down my spine.
Jesus.
I need to get my shit together. Now is not the time to get excited.
“We have some questions,” he says, voice light but carrying just enough of an edge to tell me this isn’t a request. His eyes lock on to mine, pinning me in place. “And we need answers.”
So that’s how he wants to play it? Hmm.
Let’s make this more interesting.
A slow grin creeps across my lips.
“Only if you say please.”