Chapter 51 - Luna
The morning starts like all the others since the moon cracked.
Strangely quiet, every sound outside muted like the world is holding its breath.
I wake to the smell of vinegar and the faint hum of Gigi’s K-pop playlist drifting in from the kitchen.
Her voice joins in, off-key, mangling most of the Korean words and completely unapologetic about it as I drag myself out of bed.
We have to keep going, keep prepping, keep pretending things might one day go back to normal but make ourselves ready in case they don’t.
I step into my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, but as I’m leaning over the sink I catch something in the mirror, and the toothbrush in my hand drops with a clatter.
My eyes are full of shock as I stare at my reflection.
I lift wet fingers and part some of my hair to get a better look at what I thought I saw.
I swallow hard when my fingers trace the two-inch section of pure silver hair that now streaks through the red.
I’m slightly confused but not all that surprised when I think about it. Not after what’s been happening.
I drop my hand away so my hair falls back into place, covering the silver, and huff out a breath.
Is this trauma? Shock? Is my body finally catching up to all the hell that’s been dumped on me and prematurely aging me?
I take in the deep, dark circles under my eyes and finally shrug.
Yeah, that tracks. So, I finish brushing my teeth and tie my hair back into a ponytail, making sure to cover my new silver streak with red before turning away from the mirror to go get dressed.
By the time I join her, Gigi’s already got a batch of cucumbers soaking in brine. The whole kitchen smells sharp and pickled. She looks up, eyes crinkling in a smile. She pours me a cup of coffee and then nudges a knife my way.
"Time to dice, Peach."
I nod, drain half the coffee, grab one of the big bags of carrots, and start peeling them.
We work in tandem as we keep processing all the fresh food we bought three days ago in our mad shopping spree.
Most of the meat has been taken care of, either freeze-dried or sealed up in mason jars, but we still have a lot of veggies and fruit to go.
Most of it will be canned, but we’ll also freeze-dry a bunch too, as long as we have power to do it.
If things don’t turn out as bad as Gigi thinks and life returns to somewhat normal, we’re going to have a hell of a huge electric bill coming our way from running the freezers and the stove almost nonstop. I can’t bring myself to care.
The day drags on as we vacuum seal more of the dried meat, rice, and beans into the mylar bags.
I keep a running tally in a notebook of inventory so we can figure out just how many meals we can make in the future if worse comes to worst. It’s reassuring and really fucking depressing at the same time, but every moment we spend doing this feels useful.
Like a flimsy kind of armor against the fear pressing in from outside.
We don’t talk about the guys, but we’re both thinking about them. I check my phone in between tasks and try to not let my heart break or let my mind go to the darkest thoughts every time there’s no new messages from them. It’s starting to take a real toll on me.
Late afternoon rolls around, and Gigi heads out to the backyard for a smoke while I start slicing apples for dehydration.
I hum along to the music she’s left playing and that’s when it happens.
A weird sensation races down my back, lifting all the hairs on my body.
It feels like someone’s watching me. I look up, and there he is.
A man is standing half-concealed behind the elm tree across the yard, watching me through the kitchen window.
We lock eyes and then he bolts.
"Gigi!" I scream, heart hammering.
She runs back in, with a small pink-plated gun in hand that has my eyes flaring in surprise.
“There was a m-man, a man was watching me, right outside from behind that tree.” I point to where he was standing and then turn back and point at the gun in her hand.
It’s the smallest gun I’ve ever seen. I had no idea they even came in pink.
“What is that? Where did you get it from?”
She shrugs one shoulder as she scans the yard through the window. “Husband number two had it custom-made for me years ago. I only kept it for sentimental reasons, but I’m glad I did. It only has two shots. It’ll get the job done if needed though, and it’s easy to carry.”
A flash of fear crosses through her expression when she turns from the window but it quickly turns to anger and she stomps toward the door.
I follow her out, but whoever he was, he’s gone now.
That lingering presence of being watched still skates over my skin causing a chill to cling to my skin even in the warm sunshine.
I’m scared it was someone who might want what we have and that we’ll have to do something extreme to stop them.
We go back inside and I double-check every lock, even though I already know they’re secured.
I try not to cry as I load the shotgun, stand it nearby, and then go back to work, laying out the apple slices on the freeze-drier trays with shaking hands.
It’s the first time in my life that I don’t feel safe in this house.
Supper is quiet, neither of us talking while we eat.
Every creak of the house makes me jump. The fear and anxiety, the non-stop work we’ve been doing, and now this new possible threat have drained me.
Penny has picked up on the tension and paces around the house from room to room, never settling in one place for long but always stopping to push her nose into my lap for a brief scratch behind her ears before she moves on again.
Gigi reaches over the table and takes my hand.
“We’ll be all right, Peach. I promise. We just need to stay vigilant and be ready to act if something happens.” I nod my agreement, not sure that I believe it.
I toss and turn for hours that night, even though my body craves sleep, and when I finally succumb, I’ve barely drifted off when Gigi jolts me awake, her voice a sharp whisper.
"They’re inside. I heard them force the back door under my window."
My pulse spikes even as I grab the shotgun I’ve left on the other side of the bed. I don’t know what to do. I want to hide and scream at whoever is in my house to get out. Gigi checks the pink derringer she always keeps tucked in her pocket now.
“What do we do?” I ask her in a scared voice.
She cups my cheek. “Take the shotgun and hide in the closet with Penny. I’m going to go down and shoot the bastards.”
My eyes go wide as I jerk my head back and forth in denial. “No! We both hide. Let them take whatever they want. It’s not worth it, Gigi.” I plead with her in a harsh whisper.
She drops her hand to my shoulder and a fierce expression crosses her face. “No. We can’t let them do that. We need all of it if we want to survive what’s coming.” She squeezes harder. “If we don’t stop them now, they’ll just keep coming back, Luna.”
I groan, knowing she’s right. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear my own voice.
“Fine. You’re probably right. But I’m coming with you, not hiding in a closet.”
She studies my face for a moment and then nods before pulling me hard against her in a bruising hug.
When she pulls back, she places her finger in front of her lips, signaling me to be as quiet as possible.
I close the door of my room to keep Penny in, terrified she’ll get hurt if I let her loose.
She’s not exactly a vicious guard dog. At best, she would gladly whack whoever’s broken in with her fluffy tail as she waits for them to pet her.
We move like shadows through the darkened house.
The sound of footsteps and low whispers leads us down the stairs to the kitchen.
I have to wipe the clammy sweat from my hands on my pajama pants to make sure my grip on the shotgun stays firm as we hesitate just outside the door.
I swallow hard and suck in a deep breath, adrenaline flooding my system as we silently step through into the room.
There are two figures stuffing mylar bags and mason jars from the counter into a duffle bag that sits on the floor between them.
One of them is unmistakable and a wave of cold anger rushes into me.
It’s Mr. Tanner, our nosy neighbor from two doors down.
The other guy’s taller, thinner, and I think he’s the guy that lives across the street further down. He’s holding a crowbar in one hand.
"Told you she was hoarding a bunch of food," Mr. Tanner sneers, rifling through our cupboards.
"We’re just gonna borrow some," the other mutters, though the crowbar tells a different story.
I’m so sick of all these horrible things happening that are out of my control that something comes over me, a flare of cold white rage thrums through me as I lift the shotgun towards them.
"Stop," I yell, louder than I intend. My voice is hard as ice, and I’m more than a little shocked it came out so strong and steady, considering just how scared I am right now.
They turn, surprised at first, but in less than a second, their looks turn ugly. Mr. Tanner lifts a hand with a pointed finger our way like he’s about to launch into a stern lecture. The other guy raises his crowbar and takes a step toward us. Gigi doesn’t even hesitate.
She snaps off a shot with her derringer, the suddenness of it causing a squeak of surprise to fly from my lips.
The tall man screams, drops to a knee, clutching his thigh as blood spreads in a circle on his jeans, the crowbar clattering to the floor beside him.
Mr. Tanner yelps but then lunges toward me with an ugly, rage-filled look.
I try to squeeze the trigger of the shotgun but I can’t bring myself to shoot him. My hands are frozen in place even as my mind screams, 'Shoot!' But something else takes over.
A surge of cold fire explodes from me. Silver-white light flares in a sudden burst. It hits Mr. Tanner square in the face, sizzling across his cheek.
He howls, staggering back. I finally unfreeze and instead of pulling the trigger, I swing the shotgun like a baseball bat and slam the stock into his shoulder.
He crashes back into the counter, gasping.
"GET THE FUCK OUT!" I rage scream at them.
The man Gigi shot tries to scramble up on his wounded leg. Mr. Tanner grabs him and together they stumble to the front door and fumble to open it. Gigi is hot on their heels as she threatens them.
“If you two idiots even think of looking at this house again, you won’t be walking anywhere ever again. I swear on all that’s holy, I’ll take you to meet the devil personally!”
They practically fall outside as the door gets pulled open in their fear of my little spitfire of a grandmother.
Gigi slams and locks it behind them. She places a shaking hand on the door and just leans against it with her head down and her chest heaving for a few moments before sucking in a ragged breath and turning to me.
When she opens her arms to me, I drop the shotgun and rush into them and then we collapse.
I fall to my knees and Gigi follows me down, arms around me, her breath coming fast.
"They’re going to keep coming, aren’t they?" I whisper in a voice that feels raw.
She presses a kiss to my temple, her voice fierce. "Then we keep fighting. We hold this fucking line, Luna. We fight until the boys get home.”
She leans away and cups my face so I see it when her expression changes.
Her hand reaches up and smooths my hair back with a look of concern.
I try to hold back the panic as I push to my feet and run over to the hall mirror, already sure of what I will see.
All I can do is stare at the new silvery white streak that’s appeared.
My eyes look haunted as they fill with a sheen of tears.
“What is happening to me?”
Gigi comes and wraps her arms around me from behind. “Gigi, something’s happening to me! That bright light…I think that was me. I think I did that.”
She shakes her head, unable to find any words of comfort or explanation.
Every inch of me just wants to go back, back to when all the guys were here and I was starting to feel like I was getting a handle on living this life.
Tears spill down my cheeks. Not just from fear, but fury also.
Helpless, aching fury at the not-knowing if they will make it back.
The not-knowing if we’ll still be here if they do.
"I want them back," I sob.
I want Reid’s sweetness. Jules’s arrogance.
Torrin’s certainty and Gage’s steadiness.
My family, I want all of them back. I can’t lose another family.
I won’t survive that. I wouldn’t want to.
I can already feel myself slipping back into the darkness they all pulled me out of and I don’t think I’ll be able to swim free of it again.
Gigi rocks us slowly. "They’ll come home, baby. They will."
But will they? And when or if they do, what will be left of me? Because this girl… the one who’s glowing with a power she doesn’t understand, who just hit her neighbor with a gun… this girl isn’t the girl they left behind.