Chapter 13
The administration building stood on the southwest side of camp, a little removed from everything else. Two stories, wood-paneled, with a wide front porch and a set of dark windows that reflected almost nothing back at us.
Beside me, Rhys adjusted his grip on the ax slung over his shoulder. It wasn’t one of the smaller throwing axes from the shed. This one was heavy-duty; a proper log splitter with a thick handle and a wide blade.
I tried not to stare at it. Or at him.
“What do you think happened to them?” I asked, dragging my focus back to the path ahead.
“Sloane and Reid?”
I nodded.
His mouth tilted slightly, like he was weighing it up. “I think Jensen’s probably right. They wanted privacy to hook up. So someone will probably find them in one of the staff cabins. Or we might even find them in the director’s accommodation.”
“So you think they’re okay?”
“Yeah.” He casually rubbed the back of his neck. “If something had actually happened to them, we would’ve heard something, right?”
I nodded, slower this time. “True. They would’ve screamed.”
“Yup. Even if he sneaked up and got the jump on one of them, the other one would've made enough noise to get our attention.”
We slowed as we reached the main steps of the admin building, both of us going quiet. The boards creaked faintly under our weight as we stepped onto the porch.
Rhys reached for the door handle, then paused, glancing at me. “Ready?”
“Um… give me a sec.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out the sheathed knife, and slid it free. The blade caught the light, small and almost pathetic compared to what he was holding. “Can never be too prepared, right?”
His mouth curved, just slightly. Not quite a smile. “Right.”
He opened the door and stepped inside first, his gaze sweeping the darkness beyond the threshold.
I followed him in a second later. The doorway was narrow enough that when he slowed to let me catch up, I had to brush past him. My shoulder grazed his arm, and I caught the lingering scent of soap and woodsmoke, along with the dampness still clinging to his hair.
My pulse kicked, and for what felt like the millionth time, I had to remind myself that this was neither the time nor the place for attraction.
He reached to the side and flicked the light switch. Fluorescent bulbs buzzed overhead, flickering once before settling into a steady glow over the reception area. Everything was exactly where it should be.
“Well,” Rhys said. “They’re not in here. Let’s check the offices.”
We moved deeper into the building, our footsteps echoing on the worn wooden floor. A dim hallway stretched out ahead of us, lined with doors. Director Mabry’s office. Smaller staff offices. Storage.
Rhys nudged the first door open with the end of the ax, and the sound of the blade tapping lightly against the wood made something in my chest tighten.
The office was empty.
Second door. Same thing.
As we moved to the next, his gaze slid sideways to me, then dropped to the knife in my hand. “Do you actually know how to use that thing?”
I raised a brow. “Yeah, I’m familiar with how knives work. Chop chop, stab stab, slash slash.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He stepped into the next office, scanning it quickly before glancing at me over his shoulder. “I was asking if you actually know how to defend yourself with it.”
“Uhh… yeah? If a psycho killer comes at me, I stab him.” I made a vague stabbing motion.
Rhys stepped back out, looking toward the door across the hall. “What are you… five-three?” he asked. “A hundred and twenty pounds?”
I blinked. “Something like that. Why?”
“You’re pretty small,” he said, peering around the dark, empty office in front of us. “Very easy to overpower.”
I froze for half a second. Something cold was slithering down my spine.
Rhys glanced back at me immediately, like he felt the shift.
“I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he said, lifting his free hand slightly. “Think about it. Some crazy guy twice your size comes at you… he could close the distance and overpower you before you even have a chance to stick him with that knife.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t think of that.”
“Even if you do get the chance to land a hit, I’ve heard it’s much harder than you think it is to actually stab a person. And if you miss any vital spots…” He shrugged. “He’s still standing. And you’re probably not.”
A hollow feeling opened up in my chest.
“I guess I didn’t think of that either,” I muttered.
He stopped in front of the next door, then looked at me again.
“What you need is distance,” he said. “That’s your best shot. Don’t let anyone get close enough to touch you.”
The way he said it made my skin prickle, because he was close enough to touch me right now.
I swallowed hard. “So… the knife is useless.”
“Not useless. Just not ideal. Unless you’re an expert knife thrower.”
I let out a small, mirthless laugh. “I’m definitely not an expert.”
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand, then back up. “I can help you.”
“Oh yeah?” I tried for light, but it came out a little thin.
“I’ll give you ax throwing lessons tomorrow after breakfast. I’m a fully qualified instructor. Got my cert two years ago.”
“Thanks, but I’d probably suck at that. I’ve never been good at hitting targets,” I said. “I mean, you saw me at paintball the other day, right?”
“I saw you improve with practice,” he said, stepping a little closer. “And it’s not about being good. It’s about giving yourself a chance to survive.”
He was too close now. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.
My pulse picked up again, even faster this time.
“Like I said before, I’m not trying to scare you,” he went on. “It’s just… this could be life or death.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I murmured.
“Your friends are welcome to join the lesson too. Think they’d be interested?”
“Oh, um… I don’t know. I’ll ask them later.”
“Cool.” He leaned into the last office at the end of the hall, scanning it quickly. Then he pulled back with a heavy exhale. “No one’s here. Should we head upstairs?”
I nodded and turned back down the hall, moving toward the staircase.
The wooden steps creaked under our weight as we climbed, echoing up through the stairwell. I kept glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting something to appear at the bottom of the stairs, but there was never anything there. Just the empty hallway below.
At the top, a narrow landing opened into another corridor, and Rhys flicked the nearest switch on the wall. The lighting was softer up here. Warmer. It made it feel more lived-in.
In front of us, there was a small sitting area with a couch and a coffee table with a neatly stacked pile of books. On the other side of the space, there were two closed doors.
Rhys shifted the ax in his grip, moving slightly in front of me as we stepped forward. He stopped at the door on the left and slowly opened it.
“Bathroom,” he said after a quick glance. “Empty.”
He crossed to the other door and opened it, leaning in slightly to switch on the light. Then his free hand shot up, clamping over his mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he muttered, voice muffled.
My stomach dropped.
Rhys turned to me. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t think you want to see this.”
Cold dread curled low in my gut, but I stepped past him and looked anyway.
My imagination had spent years feeding on slasher movies, true crime documentaries, and every nightmare scenario it could invent... but nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw next.