Chapter 9
CONNOR
The sheer darkness of the forest after midnight envelops me, allowing me to blend into the shadows and disappear as I move through the trees silently.
Each step I take, I tilt my head and listen intently.
Those typical sounds of the mountain this late at night that have become such a familiar soundtrack to my life are silent.
No nocturnal creatures scurrying on the ground.
No owls flying overhead as they hunt.
No chirping crickets or katydids in the trees.
Nothing.
The utter silence is eerie, almost as if the mountain itself understands what’s happening and knows how wrong it is.
My chest aches with the wild, erratic beat of my heart against my rib cage, and I draw in a shaky breath, trying to calm it.
If I’m not in control, this is going to go to shit very quickly…
It was the silence that first alerted me that something was wrong, because on a place like McBride Mountain, there’s always something moving.
Noises that I’ve known my entire life, that have always filled the air at night as I lie in bed, disappeared tonight, and goosebumps erupted on my skin the moment I noticed.
Everything remains quiet now as I stalk through the trees, keeping myself concealed in the shadows, scanning the clearing in front of me.
The flash of movement might have been missed by anyone else, blending in with the shadows, but I know this land too well, know what it looks like at every hour of the day, know every tree, every limb, every shadow, and this one isn’t right.
My stomach knots, my hands sweating on the shotgun, making me have to grip it even harder to keep it steady. If it slips, if I slip, it would spell disaster. The kind that can’t be undone.
Keep it together.
I inch forward, tuck myself behind a large tree trunk for cover, hold my breath…and wait.
Only a few seconds pass before a figure dressed in all black fatigues darts across a small, open space between trees, the semi-automatic weapon in his hand visible in the brief flash of moonlight that illuminated him before he disappeared into the shadows again.
Bile climbs up my throat, forcing me to swallow and take a breath.
Not again.
Please, God, not again.
This can’t be happening again…
No. No. No. No. No.
The panic tries to grip me in its suffocating clutches. It settles over me like the mist does the mountain every morning, threatening to paralyze me with its choking strength and complete possession.
But I can’t let it…
I know what happens if I do.
I understand the consequences.
Not just to me, but to all the people I care about on this mountain.
Keep your shit together, Connor…
Mom couldn’t have anticipated anything like this happening, but she taught all of us how to move through the wilderness silently, how to hunt our prey in such a way that they would never see it coming when we finally released the bow or pulled the trigger.
It takes focus.
It takes calm.
And this hunt is the same as if it were a deer or elk—just a different kind of prey.
The most dangerous type.
My heart that had been beating wildly seems to slow so abruptly that it feels like it almost stops completely. That simple reminder of what Mom taught us was all it took.
Calm.
Focus.
My hand tightens around the shotgun, and I bring it up and look down the sight.
I wait for him to move again.
I wait for him to make that mistake, to expose his position and give me a clean shot.
The moment he does, I fire.
That silence that had been so eerie is shattered instantly by the blast as it tears into him, knocking him onto his back on the ground. Pain explodes in my ears from firing without protection over them. It momentarily deafens me to the world, but there isn’t any time to allow it to stop me.
Before he can react, I race across the space between us. He gasps in pain, scrambling for his weapon that tumbled from his grasp when my shot hit him in the shoulder.
But I get to him before he gets his hands on it…
Standing over him this close, I can see the bulletproof vest and know what I have to do.
I aim above it, where he has no protection, and I fire.
The carnage is instant.
A spray of crimson and gray matter.
I can’t stay here.
I can’t get lost in it. Not when there are others and I’ve just alerted everyone that someone is fighting back.
Movement to my left catches my eye, and I dive to the side as a shot flies by, barely missing me by an inch. I scramble to reload my shotgun and return fire as another assassin barrels toward me.
Now I know to aim high.
And I’ve always had an incredible shot.
I don’t miss.
He crumples to the ground only a few feet away from me.
My heart thunders again in my chest, the earlier calm I managed to find shaken by the blood and gore. I gag this time, struggling to scramble to my feet and race for cover.
I manage to duck behind the barn that stands near Liam’s cabin where he does all his woodworking. Angry voices float out from the open door…
How many of these fuckers are there?
Another dark figure steps out, and I fire, then press myself flat against the wall and wait for the ringing in my ears to subside so I can figure out what the hell is going on.
It takes a few seconds before I can hear anything.
The voices become familiar.
Liam and Lucky…
Then a low, deep voice I don’t recognize.
Panic and anger lace their words, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Not when my hearing is fucked up from firing off so many shots plus the blood rushing in my ears…
I fight the sheer panic that starts to seize my chest.
Calm.
Focused.
Sounds of a fight from inside trickle out.
Grunts.
Screams.
Breaking wood.
Crushing fists.
Lucky’s sharp cry.
I push off the wall and run the last few steps to the open barn door to peek in. Gizmo lies on the ground a few feet away, Lucky frantically screaming as a man and Liam roll around on the old barn floor.
I’m out of shells.
This gun in my hand is useless.
And there’s a man on top of Liam. He rips a blade from his boot…
Liam’s axe lies on the ground only a few feet away from them, but I don’t know if I can get to it without alerting his attacker to my presence. But I have to try as that blade moves toward Liam’s throat.
I set down the gun and creep in, trying not to draw attention to myself, staying to the shadows until I can lunge forward and grab the familiar weapon.
The moment it settles in my hands, it feels right even though everything else I’ve done tonight has felt so wrong.
All thought disappears.
Instinct takes over.
I climb to my feet, raise it, and drive the blade down into the attacker’s head. He collapses onto Liam in a squelch of blood that has me screaming inside and makes me want to retch. But I hold it all in as I collapse to my knees and try to drag the man off Liam.
It takes me a second to get him free and what I find beneath makes my breath seize in my lungs.
Blood seeps from Liam’s shoulder, pooling under him far too fast.
No, no, no, no, no.
This can’t be happening.
“Connor!”
Someone cries my name as I press my hand over the wound.
“Connor!”
A hand grabs my shoulder and shakes me.
“Connor, wake up!”
Wake up?
“Connor! Wake UP!”
…
…
…
I jerk awake and flinch away from the grip on my shoulder, blinking rapidly and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
The homestead…
The attack…
My breath comes in heaving pants as I struggle to draw in another one.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
In the darkness, a familiar face moves closer. I blink again, trying to force away the remaining tears until something light appears.
Blond hair…
Concerned green eyes that usually hold so much anger toward me…
“Raven?”
Her hand comes up toward my face, but I flinch away.
She pulls it back slightly, searching my face before she makes another attempt. Her soft skin finally touches my heavily stubbled cheek tentatively. “You were having a nightmare.”
I jerk away from the unfamiliar gentle touch.
It’s wrong.
All of this is wrong.
I don’t want her here.
I don’t want her to see me like this.
Fuck.
My goddamn heart won’t stop pounding.
I scrub my hands over my face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, the sound of rain pelting the roof suddenly filling the awkward silence.
My breathing finally starts to return to normal as I scan the hunting cabin from where I sit on the single chair at the small table tucked against the wall.
The small bed. The stove glowing with the fire I stoked when I came in earlier. The old crates that act as shelves holding canned goods.
And Raven.
Not the homestead…
The last thing I remember was coming in to check on her to make sure that she had everything she needed after I spent almost the entire day outside working without a word to her, but she had already crashed by the time the sun went down.
Collapsed on the bed, her perfect pink lips that spew so much toxic hatred my way were parted slightly, her breath slipping through them evenly.
She looked like a completely different person.
That version I found of her when I came in was soft.
Almost sweet.
Innocent.
She’s anything but these days…though there was a time I saw her that way. When she was that na?ve girl.
I don’t know how long I looked at her like that, mesmerized by something I haven’t seen from Raven in almost too many years to count—complete defenselessness—but I must’ve sat down for a minute and somehow fallen asleep.
It all finally caught up with me—at the most inopportune time.
Shit.
Dropping my face into my hands, I release a frustrated groan.
The storm intensifies outside, the rain coming harder, lightning flashing through the window before thunder cracks close.
“Connor, are you all right?”
I let my hands fall away and meet her worried gaze again. Her blond brows are drawn low over concerned eyes. And it’s there again, that pity.
“I’m fine.”
It comes out gruff, more like a growl from some wild animal.
She shakes her head. “You don’t seem fine. What was the dream about?”