Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
HUDSON
T he second the enormous stranger is out of my window, I slam it closed, jam a pole into the frame to stop it opening again, and jog up the stairs to wake the twins.
I’m fucking rattled, still not totally convinced that wasn’t a dream, and worried if I fall back asleep now, I’ll forget it even happened.
My heart rate is sickening as I barge into Kennedy’s room and kick the mattress he’s sleeping on. “Hey, get up!”
He doesn’t move, so I kick the mattress again, harder.
“Huddy?” he grumbles, voice thick with sleep.
“We’ve got a problem. Get up now.”
He sits, movements jerky and tired, and when I’m sure he’s conscious enough that he won’t drop off again, I leave him and head for Hartwell’s room.
Hart took the one furthest from the stairs, and when I push open the door, I can’t see a damn thing because of the tarp he’s pinned up over the window. I stumble blindly forward, hands searching at knee height, until I make contact with something.
There’s a grunt, and then Hart kicks out, sending pain shooting through my shin.
“ Ah, fuck !”
“The hell you grabbing my ass for?”
“I can’t see anything! Did you have to kick me so fucking hard?”
“You try being snuck up on while you’re sleeping and see how you react.”
If he only knew. “Well, I can tell you I didn’t kick the man. Now, get your ass up. That’s exactly what I need to tell you.”
A confused “ wha’ ” leaves him, but his blanket rustles like he’s thrown it back.
I stumble toward the door and out into the hallway, where it’s fractionally less dark.
We’re trying to save the generator we brought with us, but I could really use some light to shake off the lingering creepy feelings of my visitor.
Kennedy is hovering outside his room, and I motion for him to follow me. We thunder down the stairs, the loud, quick thuds matching my heartbeat, and it’s not until we reach the moonlit living area that Hart’s slow footsteps sound behind us.
“What’s going on?” Kennedy asks around a yawn, arms crossed over his bare chest as he leans back into the kitchen counter.
“Someone was in our house.”
Hart jerks to a stop in the doorway. “ This house?”
I nod quickly. “He said his name is Wilde and claimed it’s his town. It also sounded like he’s not the only one who lives here.”
Kennedy, mouth gaping, points at the floor. “Like here here?”
“Bullshit,” Hartwell spits. “We’ve been all through these houses, and there’s nothing in any of them. ”
That’s a good point. “I’m only repeating what he said. He also threatened us to leave.”
Somehow, Kennedy’s mouth drops further, but Hart’s expression doesn’t change.
“I’ll grab my stuff, then.”
“Hart—” Kennedy looks lost. “We can’t go.”
“He sort of implied he’d kill us if we didn’t,” I add.
“ Kill us?”
Through the hurried and confusing visit, I remember his muttered I’m not a murderer. “Actually, maybe not him.” With how sudden and unexpected it all was, my memory is hazy. “He mentioned there was someone or something called Lynx that would.”
“Like the big cat?”
“I don’t know .” Through my confusion, frustration bleeds out. “I woke up, there was some mountain man in my room, and he started making demands at me. Sorry if I didn’t catch all the details.”
“It sounds simple to me,” Hart says. “Let’s pack our shit and go.”
“But … but …” Kennedy looks from his twin to me and back again. “We can’t .”
“Oh, we definitely can,” Hart points out.
“ Hudson ?”
I can’t meet Kennedy’s eyes. I’m too tired and worked up to make a decision I’ll trust. I don’t want Wilde to know his threats worked, but I’m not all that eager to be a sitting duck.
On the flip side, without this town, we’re fucked.
Our business is tied up in this place, and I’m not sure that my willpower can handle returning home a failure.
It’s only been a week. If I can’t do this, I can’t do anything, so what’s the point of continuing to try? I might as well? —
“Sure.” Hart leans against the doorframe and studies us. “This is definitely the kind of decision that needs thinking about. Take your time.”
I ignore the snide tone and pace to the other side of the room, muscles agitated and restless. “It didn’t sound like something we have to do immediately. I say we secure the house, get some sleep, and talk about it in the morning.”
“Well, thank you for waking us up, freaking us out, and then trapping us here for a bit longer. That plan makes perfect sense.”
Some days, I want to throttle Hart. “Excuse me for being freaked-out myself.” My hands flex into fists and loosen again.
I’m not known for my patience, but I’m not known for running scared either.
The deep, stubborn part of my center is adamant about digging my heels in and showing this asshole that I’m not afraid of him, even if he did pin me to the bed with next to no effort.
I can’t say that didn’t fuck with my head, didn’t make me feel vulnerable and powerless, but there’s one of him and three of us. The odds are on our side.
Well … I eye Hart. Two of us. And Kennedy is big enough that he could probably take Wilde on his own.
I swallow all of that back as I set a withering glare on Hartwell. “Help us secure the house.”
“Why? This place would go up like tinder. If someone wanted to kill us, that’s all they’d need to do.” With that cheerful note, he spins on his heel, and a moment later, I hear him on the stairs again.
“I hope you don’t like being a twin,” I tell Kennedy, glaring at the place Hart was. “Because I’m going to kick his ass one day.”
Kennedy sighs and pushes away from the counter. “Let’s get moving. There were boards over the windows when we got here. We’ll put them back up.”
I’m apprehensive about going outside to dig them out of the junk pile, but thankfully, the street is as deserted as it normally is. We make fast work of securing the house, and it’s not until I collapse back into bed that I really let the tension take hold. I can still feel him in my room.
I refuse to be scared though, and I punch my pillow as I roll over and put my back to the window, falling into fitful dreams about killer cats and Viking men riding them.
There’s something about the sun that reaches into your soul and clears out any lingering worry. Morning comes around, and already, last night’s visit feels like something I might have imagined, which makes the decision my subconscious came to so much easier to handle.
When I told Wilde we’re not leaving, I meant it.
There’s a chill on the air like there always is before the sun is high enough to heat the town, and a low haze of fog hugs the trees around us. I don’t think that will ever not be creepy, and as I sit by our makeshift stove, I study both sides of the street for movement.
I blow on my mug of bitter coffee as the twins emerge, first Kennedy and then Hart, summoned by the smell of caffeine.
Kennedy pauses by one of the camp chairs, hands on hips as he looks toward the forest like I was doing, while Hart brushes by him like last night never happened.
“Good to see you’re both alive,” he says snidely.
“Right back at you.” I refuse to let him get to me. “While I’m in town, I’ll make sure I pick up some guns.”
Hart’s attention snaps to me from across the table, and surprise fills Kenny’s face.
“Guns?” Kennedy asks, breaking first .
“Yeah. We need a way to defend ourselves, and that seems the most practical.”
Hartwell ignores me in favor of his coffee.
Kennedy rounds the burner to take the chair closest to me. “But none of us know how to shoot.”
“Good thing we have all this room for practice.”
“Practice for what? Shooting people ?”
It’s not something I’m comfortable with either, but if my life is at risk, I doubt I’d need more incentive than that. “I thought you wanted to stay here.”
“I do.”
“Then we need to come to terms with the fact there are things living out here that aren’t friendly. Not just people. Wild animals too.”
His fingers drum an anxious rhythm against his knee. “Right. Okay.”
“You know,” Hart says lazily, “I’m beginning to feel like this Wilde guy doesn’t exist. You bring some shrooms with you, brother? And you’re not sharing?”
The low blow is supposed to get under my skin, and with the way Kennedy’s face reddens, he’s ready to jump immediately to my defense.
I haven’t touched anything since I was hospitalized in high school, and Hart doesn’t need to know that his comment was dangerously close to the reason I wanted to get away in the first place.
I stand slowly and move to settle in front of him. He’s not expecting my bright smile. “That supposed to annoy me?”
“It’s a valid question.”
“If it was fifteen years ago, maybe.”
He blinks hooded eyes up at me, and I stare him down.
“Are we going to have issues?” I ask.
“Oh, I think we’re way past that. ”
“You signed up for this too,” I remind him. “You could have said no.”
“Why? It’s not like you ever listen to a damn thing I say.”
Getting a rise out of him doesn’t feel as good as it should. Instead, it sets my teeth on edge. “Because you never have anything productive to say. All you do is bitch.”
“Then stop giving me shit to bitch about.”
“Like fucking what?”
Hart laughs bitterly and gestures to the street. But before he can say anything else, his movement brings my focus up, and I catch a glimpse of someone who’s not supposed to be there.
Wilde .
On that fucking lookout.
Standing in plain sight like he doesn’t care if we see him.
I’m only feeling partially vindicated after Hart’s accusation, because a flare of stubborn irritation takes over instead. I leave my brothers, crossing to the center of the street to make sure he can’t miss me.
Then I cup my hands around my mouth and shout, “Yo! Wilde! I’ve got your answer for you.” My voice bounces down the deserted street five times over.
And feeling more reckless than I have in years, I lift both my middle fingers his way.
This is our town now.