Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
FENRIR
PRESENT
As Hayami showers, I pull out my phone to try and distract myself from the noise of the running water and that she’s naked in there with the door unlocked.
But as I scan the latest weather update, our conversation downstairs comes back to me.
I’d had to push my anger down when Hayami revealed her father’s intentions.
And then again when she told me her plans to stop it by killing herself, then to try and sabotage her “purity” by throwing herself at the first guy she came across.
Jesus. No wonder she’s a volcano waiting to erupt.
I found it hard not to speak from my heart and tell her exactly what I thought: that if any man should so much as touch her, I’d rip his arms from his body and take pleasure in doing so.
She doesn’t see how precious she is or what she’s handing to these men.
But I blame Devall. This is his doing. He forced her hand with this ridiculous auction.
The door to the en suite clicks open and Hayami strolls into the room, her hair wrapped up in a white towel. She’s dressed in shorts and a vest top, her skin slightly pink from the heat of the water.
“How’s the snow looking?” she asks.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, I head over to the window and pull back the curtain.
The white confetti has turned into fat flakes that swirl angrily in the air before landing on the now-white surfaces.
The backdrop looks purple, the strange glow that always seems to illuminate the sky when the world has turned white.
“It’s coming down heavy now.” I close the curtain and turn to face her, and I freeze.
Hayami is by the bed, towel now in her hand, eyes on me. But behind her is a shadow on the wall cast from the lamp on her bedside table. But it isn’t her shadow. It’s taller. It’s wider.
No. It’s not possible. It’s a trick of the light. It’s my eyes playing games with me.
But as I try to rationalise what I’m seeing, I can’t help but notice Hayami is stationary, yet the shadow moves towards her, its hands reaching out as if to grab her.
Hayami holds the towel to her hair, rubbing the long strands, completely oblivious—until I reach behind my back and pull my gun from my waistband.
* * *
HAYAMI
Fenrir stares over my shoulder, face aghast, his body rigid as if he’s been frozen. I’m about to turn around to see what has captured his attention, but then he unfreezes, his arm contorting as he reaches into the back of his waistband.
He pulls his gun out and aims.
Cold fear drenches me.
What the fuck?
It takes a second for me to realise his gun isn’t pointing at me. It’s pointing behind me.
There’s someone behind me.
“Fenrir.” My voice sounds weak, and I don’t mean for it to.
“Don’t move.” He’s staring at the wall. His eyes don’t leave the target, which is about a foot to my left.
Dread spools in my gut as I watch him aim the gun, arms straight and locked as he moves slowly, slowly, slowly, the target moving, getting closer to me with every second.
I haven’t heard any sounds. I can’t hear anyone else breathing or moving. There’s no one in the room with us.
So, what the fuck is he pointing his gun at?
But then I recall Willa telling me about venomous insects and drones being used to kill people when we first arrived here, explaining why there’s a camera in my room.
I swallow, and just before the gun reaches in line with my shoulder, I drop to the floor. Fenrir fires, the noise exploding off the walls and ringing in my ears.
Scrambling, I crawl to him, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
As I reach him, he puts out his hand and pulls me into his solid body, wrapping his arm around me. Confusion mixes with fear. Why aren’t we running? Why is he not picking me up and getting me the hell out of here? Unless he shot them, whoever or whatever it was?
“What the fuck?” I ask as I turn to look where he still has the gun aimed.
But other than some cracked plaster and a bullet hole in the wall, there’s nothing there. I drop my gaze to the carpet, expecting to see a venomous insect or some high-tech killing device, but again, there’s nothing.
“What the hell?”
“I thought I saw something,” he says at last, still holding me tightly.
“Something?”
“A shadow. I don’t know.” He shakes his head, his voice lacking any sort of certainty. He releases his grip on me, but I’m not ready to let go of him just yet.
“Jeez. You scared the shit out of me,” I say, exhaling a large breath, but his reply niggles at me.
A shadow. I recall the look on his face when he had the gun pointed at the wall.
He looked at it for a long time. It wasn’t a split-second glance; it wasn’t a moment where something caught his eye.
He stared at it. He must have known what it was.
He was following it with his gun. It doesn’t make any sense.
“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry.
“You really need to get some sleep. Sleep deprivation can do all sorts of things to the brain.”
He looks like he’s about to argue, but then seems to give in, his jaw tensing. He doesn’t like not being in control.
“I’ll get a few hours of sleep, and then we’ll swap,” I say, taking charge.
“No.” He takes a step forwards.
“No arguing.” I throw back the covers on the bed. “And I want you to stay in my room.”
He glances at me.
“I don’t want you falling asleep in that little room downstairs. At least if you fall asleep up here, I can wake you if something happens.”
I’m starting to worry about him now. Is the isolation getting to him?
Sometimes, I catch him staring at the walls or looking at something that doesn’t appear to be there.
Is this just his bodyguard mentality? He spends his entire time on high alert, never letting his guard down, never relaxing.
But this feels different. This feels like a man who’s had no sleep for so long that his brain is imagining things.
I’m suffering from delusions of my own, but of a very different nature. There’d been a second when Fenrir had his gun raised when his focus had been entirely on shooting whatever he thought he saw behind me, and I swear I would have dropped to my knees for him there and then.
Maybe we’re both losing our minds.