FIVE #2
Stepping over a tripwire I set yesterday, I’m careful not to disturb the line hidden in the grass.
As soon as I’m clear, I slip through the back door.
I’m immediately assaulted by the smell of dust, old wood, and mildew that fills the kitchen.
Faded blue curtains hang simple on either side of the window above the sink, only wafting gently in the breeze that sneaks through the crack in the frame.
The counter is cluttered with stuff people before me left behind.
There’s an empty coffee tin, a cracked mug, a stack of mail ruined by damp, and a ceramic bunny cookie jar that looks way too chipper given the circumstances.
I hate the stupid thing instantly.
“You’re judging me. I know you are,” I whisper to the white rabbit with the pink nose, glaring at it like it’s offended my life now and every past life before it.
The bunny looks back, judging, and I huff as I close the door behind me without latching it.
Then I move through the kitchen and into the hall.
I manage to avoid the third floorboard from the left after learning the fucker will scream like a dying seagull if stepped on.
I avoid the next two, too, because although they creak a little less dramatically, it’s still enough that I consider it rude.
In the living room, I duck behind the couch and tug my gun from its holster, reminding myself I have two bullets. Only two, because one was wasted and buried in the pharmacy ceiling, taking down the world’s most inconvenient encounter.
Great. Love this for me.
Sighing, I run my gaze over the living room.
It’s trapped in a dusty sadness, furniture covered with sheets that have yellowed with age.
A bookcase is pressed against one wall, only half-filled, the remaining paperbacks wrinkled with moisture.
It pains me to look at, so I tear my eyes away, only for them to land on the family photos that hang above the fireplace, faces faded behind cracked glass.
A mother, father, two kids, and an adorable golden retriever with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
The dog gets me.
People don’t.
Keeping my back against the wall beside the doorway, I slow my breathing and wait.
Outside, silence stretches far past the houses surrounding the one I’m standing in.
Kaito’s good, I’ll admit that much. He doesn’t barge straight in like a man with more confidence than brain cells, though I do worry he’s lacking in that department since he’s followed me all the way here.
Instead, he circles first. I hear almost nothing, but the house thankfully hears it for me.
The faint shift of weeds near the porch, the whisper of a boot on concrete, the pause near the kitchen window.
He checks the back door, then stops, and I can picture him studying it.
I envision him noticing the latch isn’t set, the disturbed dust on the threshold, noticing the fact that I want him to know I came this way.
Good. Let’s see what you’re made of, Alpha. Let’s see just how stupid you are.
Sure enough, with painstaking slowness, the back door opens. There’s no dramatic creak, because I oiled the hinges yesterday with rancid cooking oil vile enough that I spent the entire task gagging behind my bandana. It was worth it, but it’s definitely not something I wish to repeat anytime soon.
Kaito steps into the house, and I remain exactly where I am. I hear him pause in the kitchen, and I know the moment he spots the floorboards. There’s a slight shift in his breathing, a careful and deliberate redistribution of his weight, and then he avoids the screaming board entirely.
My eyebrows pinch.
Well, shit. That’s fucking annoying.
He moves through the hall slowly, one hand likely near a weapon of some sort, though I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have drawn it yet. At least, if he has any survival instincts at all. I can smell him from here, the scent of blood, rain-damp fabric, Alpha, and something warmer under it all.
Burning wood.
Worn flannel.
Strangely, the scent is choppy and familiar in a way it has absolutely no right to be, like a lone shelter in the middle of a thunderstorm. My Omega notices instantly, and that fickle bitch can kiss my ass.
Kaito stops at the living room doorway, and I move in behind him silently, right before pressing the barrel of my gun to the back of his head.
For one weighted and painfully long second, neither one of us breathes.
Then, with every ounce of caution within him, he says, “Okay, that’s fair. I deserved that.”
“You think?” I question lowly, prodding the back of his dark-hair-covered head with my gun just to really drill home the precarious situation the Alpha has found himself in.
Nodding slightly, Kaito’s hands raise slowly, palms open in surrender. There’s an appreciation there for how he doesn't whirl around immediately, and it’s quickly followed by annoyance and a deep-rooted hatred for appreciating anything about this guy to begin with.
“You followed me,” I start, throwing the accusation out there with the bluntness it deserves.
“Yup. I did that,” he agrees easily.
“Didn’t I tell you to leave?” I prod, keeping my hands steady and my breathing slow and calm.
“Mhm. You did that,” he says with another nod, like he’s already made peace with the fact that he’s been caught and there isn’t a damned thing he can do about it.
I frown. “Do you have a head injury I don’t know about?”
He pauses. “Not at this very moment in time.”
“Huh,” I mutter. “It would have explained a whole lot.”
A small sound leaves him, and I’m pretty sure it’s almost a laugh, but he chokes it out before it can actually morph into one. It's the smartest thing he’s done today, because if he laughs with my gun pressed against his skull, there’s every single chance I might take it personally.
A long pause stretches between us before he finally admits, “I wanted to make sure you got somewhere safe.”
That sentence hits me in a weird, unexplainable way, because it’s too soft. Too reasonable. It’s way too close to something I flat-out refuse to want. Nothing good ever comes from wanting something in this world, and I’ll die at the hands of a hundred Zeds before I cave into that luxury.
Pressing the gun a little harder against his head, I snap, “I don’t need you to make sure of anything.”
“Yup. Caught on to that little fact,” he quips, far too unserious for the situation he’s currently in. I mean, what’s not serious about someone holding a gun to your head, right? Pretty sure this Alpha is defective or something.
“Did you?” I question, not entirely sure he’s being truthful.
“Took me a second, but yeah, I see it,” he answers instantly.
I pause, maybe for dramatic effect. Got to get my thrills somewhere in this thrill-less world. “Huh. Yet, here you are.”
“Here I am,” he agrees again, and I shake my head at the guy. I genuinely can’t tell if it’s the audacity or the nerve that is baffling me more, but either way, the Alpha is full of it and I refuse to be impressed.
Narrowing my eyes at the back of Kaito’s head, I tilt my own to the side and mutter, “You’re not really good at staying alive, are you?”
A funny sound escapes him before he answers. “I don’t know. I think I’ve done pretty well so far.”
“You got yourself trapped in an alley by Zeds after slicing your side open,” I remind him, pointing out his stupidity like it needs highlighting.
“And then I was saved by someone who calls Biters Zeds,” he points out, returning the favor, and my mouth snaps shut. See? The fucking audacity. Where the hell does he get it from?
Slowly, stupidly, I realize I must have called the dead Zeds at some point. Probably when I was occupied threatening him, which is honestly where I do some of my best work. I have no idea why it’s something he remembers, though.
“You remember that?” I prod, not really sure why I’m asking in the first place. He very obviously remembers, or else he wouldn’t have said it.
Kaito nods. “I remember a lot of things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Why does that sound like a threat?”
A sound huffs from his chest, right before he counters, “It wasn’t meant to sound like one.”
Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “Most people don’t generally announce their threats, Kaito.”
Weirdly, the Alpha stills slightly. Not enough for just anyone to notice, but I do. I catch the very moment his shoulders tense, his breath stills, and his body turns to stone right where he stands. Then he quietly says, “You remember my name.”
I’m not sure I like the soft tone in his voice, nor do I like the little moment that’s forming, so I repeat his words back to him, “I remember a lot of things.”
“Now that sounds like a threat,” he breathes.
“It was meant to,” I confirm, nudging his head with the gun once more, just in case he’s forgotten what kind of situation he’s found himself in now.
It must do the trick, because I’m pretty sure I hear him swallow hard before he utters, “Noted.”
The house settles around us, a soft creak crawling through the walls as the wind outside brushes the siding. Somewhere upstairs, something drips steadily into a bowl I placed under a leak.
Plink.
Plink.
Plink.
It fills the silence between us until my nerves start fraying at the edges, like they’re trying to chew through my skin.
Kaito remains still. A little too still for my liking.
There are no sudden movements, no angry demands, no Alpha growling about disrespect.
He isn’t even attempting to turn the situation around, not once bursting with dominance to try and push against the thin wall of my control.
You’d think it would make me relax.
You’d be wrong.
I’m far too familiar with waiting for the other shoe to drop. Nothing ever comes this easy, and I’m not about to let my guard down now, just because he isn’t behaving like the others I’ve encountered over the past six years.
“What’s the actual reason for you following me?” I ask shortly.