Chapter 24
CAIDEN
When we stepped into the inn’s sitting area, I felt it at once. A wrongness settling around us like damp fog. Rain pounded the windows in relentless thunder.
Amelia sank onto a threadbare couch, shoulders slumped, and let out a long, weary sigh. She looked so small in that oversized sweatshirt that my chest tightened with the urge to pull her close, shield her from whatever lurked outside.
But I held back, every instinct screaming to stay alert.
This was going to be a long, fucking night.
“Cocoa?” I asked, forcing my voice casual. It came out rougher than I meant.
She managed a brittle smile. “Yeah. Warm sounds good.”
I crossed to the kitchenette, where a lone bulb threw dancing shadows across peeling wallpaper. The kettle whistled; I poured the hot liquid into two chipped mugs, whose floral pattern faded to ghostly outlines.
On my way back, I caught the innkeeper’s movement. Thin frame, restless energy, her hair a wild halo of untamed strands.
A chill ran down my spine.
I handed Amelia her mug and settled beside her. Steam curled between us, sweet and heavy.
My mind flashed to that afternoon on the beach. Her soft gasp as I touched her, the way her eyes had fallen half-closed in pleasure. My pulse thundered against my ribs.
“Thanks,” she murmured, wrapping both hands around the mug as if it offered protection. Her eyes, though, were wide and haunted.
Silence settled, broken only by the storm’s roar. I watched her face, my own anxiety mirrored there. Ghosts from our past were roused by this tempest.
I raised my mug to my lips, the sweetness clashing with the bitterness coiling in my gut. Words to ease the tension felt too fragile to form, so I scanned the room instead, refusing to lower my guard.
“Did you hear that?” Amelia’s whisper jolted me.
I froze. “Hear what?”
“Footsteps,” she said, voice trembling as she glanced toward the door.
“Probably the wind,” I lied, though every nerve in me stood at attention. This place breathed secrets, its walls alive.
The door creaked, and in shuffled an older woman, a basket of cleaning supplies in hand, her faded dress swaying around her thin legs. She paused, her eyes flicking over us with unsettling precision.
“Evening, dears,” she rasped, voice warm yet strange. “Caught in the storm, are you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That obvious?”
She offered a slow nod. “Be careful in this town, people disappear. Not everyone’s as kind as they seem.”
A knot tightened in my chest. Amelia and I exchanged a glance that spoke volumes of shared dread.
“Disappear?” Amelia echoed.
The housekeeper’s gaze drifted to the rain-lashed window. “Strange things happen on nights like this. This inn’s seen its share.”
With that, she shuffled away, leaving a residue of warning in her wake.
“Brilliant,” I muttered, sipping cocoa that felt like cold ash. “Exactly what we needed.”
Amelia’s hands shook around her mug. “Maybe we should go,” she said, voice barely a breath.
I bristled. “We’d be out in that storm. We’re stuck until morning.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I just—I don’t like it here. It feels wrong.”
“Yeah,” I gritted out. “No shit.” I clenched my jaw to hold back frustration. I couldn’t let panic take us. “We’ve been through worse.”
The memory of Blake’s cabin slammed into me: walls closing in, the terror of being truly trapped. Amelia’s pale face, tears glistening. I hated that the past might swallow us again.
“I know,” she whispered, voice trembling. In her eyes, I saw that haunted flicker again.
I slid closer, closing the final inch between us, and brushed my fingers against hers. Her warmth grounded me, dimmed the roaring storm for a heartbeat. But then reality rushed back.
We sat in silence, mugs drained. I sensed something watching. A presence drifting in the corners, walls listening for our next move.
“Let’s try to rest,” I said, voice low but firm. “We’ll figure it out in the morning.”
We stood, hearts hammering, and headed up the corridor to our room. The night was far from over.
She laid on her bed, and I laid on mine, but the urge to get into bed with Amelia and hold her close was overwhelming.
It was fucking torture.
The darkness of the room slithered around us.
I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight, not when I had this immense need to protect Amelia and shield her from any danger that might lurk within these walls.
I focused on the sound of Amelia’s soft breathing, letting the rhythm of it calm my racing heart.
The wind rattled the window, glass shivering in the pane. I laid on the mattress, covers twisted around my legs. Across the space, Amelia’s outline rose and fell, a shadow breathing in the half-dark.
My thoughts shuddered inside my skull. Every muscle in my body wanted to get up, cross those three feet, and touch her hair, her back, the place where her shoulder curled delicate against the pillow.
My hand ached with the need. But I didn’t do it, not yet.
I stared at the ceiling. Water stains ran in slow lines above me. The silence between us thickened, a rope getting tighter.
I tried to force my head empty. I counted the seconds between thunderclaps, listened to the ticking of the broken alarm clock, tried to remember how it used to feel to sleep alone.
But it was no good. She was there, inches away, a ghost inside my brain.
“Are you awake?” Her voice was small. I could barely hear it over the beating of my own heart.
“I never sleep much,” I said. My throat was sore. The words sounded scratchy, not real.
“I don’t want to go home,” she said. The confession hung there. It was cold and blue and true.
“I know.”
Her voice trembled. “What if it’s all worse than I remember?”
I wanted to promise her something, but the words got lost before they left my teeth. I could barely breathe. My chest burned.
“It can't hurt you anymore,” I said.
Another silence. Rain clanged on the metal roof overhead. I imagined her skin under my hand, soft and breakable as tissue. I remembered the taste of her mouth, adrenaline, and longing. My stomach collapsed in on itself.
She moved then. The sheet rustled. For a second, I thought she’d reach for me, but she didn’t. She just curled tighter in on herself, shrinking like she wanted to disappear.
I hated this, not being able to fix anything, only watch.
“Why does it always rain when we’re together?” she whispered.
I tried to find the humor in it, but my mouth barely moved. “Maybe the universe is warning people to stay away from us.”
A sound escaped her, not laughter, not really. “Or maybe the universe is crying. For both of us.”
Pain flickered down my spine. My hands gripped the edge of the blanket. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d failed her, in every possible way, over and over again, and now she was stuck with me in a dark room full of ghosts.
Daybreak had crept through the thin curtains, painting Amelia’s face in soft gold, and my chest had ached so badly I thought it might split. I’d thrown aside the blankets and shaken her gently.
“Amelia, it’s morning. We’ve got to go.”
Her lashes fluttered open, revealing eyes rimmed with sleep and something tender I craved to hold forever. I swallowed hard, longing to brush a strand of her hair from her cheek, to lean in and taste her lips.
Come on, fucking focus.
We dressed in yesterday’s clothes, now dry, and stepped quietly down the narrow hallway into the main room. The innkeeper stood behind a battered counter. Her smile too wide, her eyes too bright.
“Good morning, dears! I trust you slept well?” Her voice was syrupy, but a tremor of steel lurked beneath it. It prickled at my spine.
“Yeah,” I said, forcing neutrality. “We’re just working out our next move. Our car’s still fucked.”
“Oh, you’re in luck!” She clapped her hands, and I heard the echo of it across the empty room. “There’s a mechanic in town—turn right as you leave, about a twenty or thirty-minute walk. He’s…eccentric, but reliable.”
“Eccentric?” My guard snapped up. “What does that mean?”
She waved a manicured hand as if dismissing a fly. “He has his own methods. But he’ll fix you up in no time.” Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her cold eyes.
I nodded, suspicion coiling tighter in my gut. She offered fresh bread and jam. Her voice is sweet and insistent. I’d seen Amelia tense beside me; I’d felt her heartbeat hammering against my ribs. Finally, I agreed, if only to buy a moment.
We sat at a rickety table scarred with rings from long-dried mugs. Shadows in the corners shifted like living things. I bit into bread that tasted of ash.
Amelia barely touched her plate. I kept my eyes on the innkeeper, who hovered nearby, silent and watchful. My pulse thrummed with remembered horrors. Storms that had come for us before, darkness that clawed at the edges of hope.
“Let’s eat and get the hell out of here,” I muttered under my breath. Amelia’s hand brushed mine; the tiny spark of contact was my only comfort.
As soon as we could, we slipped out into the damp morning air.
We trudged down cracked pavement, water pooling in ruts. Every boarded-up window felt like an eye watching. An ancient church bell tower, half-collapsed, loomed overhead. My throat tightened.
“Twenty minutes, right?” I whispered.
“Right,” Amelia replied, though her voice quivered.
A raven cawed somewhere above us. I looked up to see it perched on a gnarled branch, its dark eye fixed on us. My skin crawled.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Amelia muttered, glancing at peeling paint and shuttered shops swaying in the wind.
Rusty wind chimes on a porch clanked like distant screams. Faded photographs were tacked to telephone poles: smiling families from another era, their eyes scratched out, their mouths frozen in joy they no longer possessed.
When we finally reached the mechanic’s shack, a faded sign swung on a single rusty hinge. I pushed the door open; a rusty bell rang overhead.
Inside, dust motes danced in a sliver of light. Tires, wrenches, and greasy rags lay scattered.
Behind a scarred counter stood a stocky man with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap pulled so low it cast half his face in shadow. He folded his arms and let silence stretch.
“What do you need?” he grunted. His voice was low and rough.
“Our tire blew out a few miles back. Can you tow it in?” I kept my tone even.
“Sure,” he said, but each word felt heavy, as if he’d weighed us in his mind and found us restless prey. “You sure you don’t want a spare? Got one in the back.”
“We’re good,” I said firmly. “Just get the old girl back on the road.”
He spat something under his breath, then ambled out. Amelia and I slipped into the shadowed corner, her shoulder brushing mine. My heart thundered, every nerve alive to his unseen intentions.
The mechanic returned with our car in tow.
“All set,” he finally said, his smile too wide, his demeanor unsettling. “You two had better be careful. Strange things happen around here.”
“Yeah, we’ve heard,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Let’s just get this done.”
He began to slowly work on the car, and as he did, he made small talk, but his words felt hollow. “You know, this town used to be a lot livelier. Folks came here for the festivals and celebrations. But things change. People disappear, and the town gets quieter.”
“Disappearing seems to be a theme around here,” I muttered under my breath, my instincts screaming that something wasn’t right.
The mechanic laughed, but it was an uneasy sound, like a crow’s caw. “Yeah, well, some say the old places hold onto their secrets.”
I shot a glance at Amelia, who looked as uncomfortable as I felt. “Thanks for the warning,” I said, my voice low as I clenched my fists, my body tense.
As the mechanic continued to work, I could see the way he eyed us, the way he seemed to stall, taking his time.
In time, he finally finished.
He wiped his hands while holding an intense stare.
“You two really should consider staying a bit longer, you know. There’s plenty to see around here.”
“Thanks, but we’re good,” I replied, my patience wearing thin.
“Are you sure?” he pressed, stepping closer, his tone shifting. “I know a few spots that might interest you—haunted places, old legends. You’d be surprised what this town has to offer.”
“Look, we just want to get going,” I said, my voice firm, but I could see the way he took a step closer, his demeanor shifting from friendly to predatory.
“Maybe you should reconsider,” he said, a glint in his eye that sent a chill racing down my spine.
I felt Amelia tense beside me, and my instincts kicked in. “Get the fuck away from us,” I snapped, my voice low and dangerous. I stepped in front of Amelia, shielding her body from him.
The mechanic’s smile faded, and I could see the threat in his posture. “You really don’t want to leave just yet. There’s so much more to see,” He reached for something in his tool belt.
Before he could get any closer, I acted. I stepped forward, my fist connecting with his jaw in a swift, decisive motion. He stumbled back, surprise flashing across his face as he hit the ground hard.
“Caiden!” Amelia gasped, her eyes wide with shock.
“Get in the car!” I shouted, adrenaline coursing through me as I hurried to the driver’s seat. I didn’t have time to think about what I’d just done; all I knew was that we needed to leave.
Amelia jumped into the passenger seat, her breath coming in quick gasps. “What the hell just happened?”
“He was going to hurt us.”
I could hear the mechanic groaning behind us as I turned the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life.
As we sped away from the mechanic’s shop, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had narrowly escaped something dark, something that had been waiting to ensnare us in its web.
In my rearview mirror, I saw the mechanic rise slowly, his face twisted with rage. Behind him, the shop wavered in the heat-haze, like a nightmare dissolving at dawn.
“Where do we go now?” Amelia asked, glancing nervously out the window.
“We drive past that inn,” I said, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. “We get the hell out of this town.”
I wouldn’t let anything hurt her, not again.
As we approached the inn, I felt my breath catch in my throat.
The building was gone. In its place was a burned-out husk, the walls blackened and crumbling, as if it had never existed at all.