Chapter 9 #2
He turned toward the hallway, forcing himself not to look back. “Finish your food. Then I’ll show you your room.”
As he walked away, Red was acutely aware of Kit’s gaze burning into his back. A boy who didn’t need answers as much as he needed something solid. Something steady.
Someone who wouldn’t leave.
Like his parents had. Like his brother had.
Red clenched his jaw.
He was the Daddy and from here on out, he’d damn well act like it.
He wouldn’t leave. Until he had to. But he didn’t want to think about that.
The tour of the cabin was going to take five seconds, if that.
Kit glanced around the stark bedroom. “It’s…nice.”
Red snorted. “It’s got a bed and a chest. That’s all you need.”
“No window.”
“No.”
No one was coming through the window.
Kit looked around again. “Where are you sleeping?”
“On the floor.”
Kit’s brows furrowed. “Why can’t you sleep in the bed with me?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
The thought of lying next to his sweet boy? That way lay madness.
The cabin wasn’t designed to be a home. From what Red had gleaned from Mo’s limited conversation over the pool table, Mo had built two cabins to hire out to CDR as temporary safe houses as the location was well away from the city and a nightmare to access.
Red hadn’t expected to be visiting it so soon.
The cabin had one bedroom and bathroom, an open plan kitchen and seating area, and one other room he hadn’t shown Kit yet, but it was time he got that over and done with.
“Come with me,” he said abruptly. At Kit’s raised eyebrow, Red huffed. “There’s one more room you need to see.”
“Okay.” Now Kit looked curious and followed Red out of the bedroom without protest.
Kit looked around the cabin. “Is there another bedroom? A playroom?” Now he sounded breathy and excited.
“No.”
This was the one thing that might keep Kit alive. If he listened.
The panic room didn’t look like one at first glance. It was tucked behind what looked like an ordinary knotty-pine wall at the back of the cabin, the seams disguised by shadow and age-darkened wood.
“Watch what I do.”
Red pressed his palm to a spot just left of the old cast-iron stove, and a section of wall shifted soundlessly, swinging inward on hidden hinges.
Inside, the air changed.
The room was compact but solid, poured concrete reinforced with steel ribs, every surface bare and purposeful.
No windows. No wasted space. The ceiling was low enough to feel enclosed without being claustrophobic, the kind of place designed to hold rather than trap.
The floor was sealed concrete, warm underfoot from radiant heating that hummed quietly beneath the surface.
Red turned to Kit who stared into the room, his mouth open.
“What the fuck?” Kit said.
Quite.
“This is the panic room,” Red said, realizing he was stating the obvious.
One wall was dominated by a steel door—thick, matte black, with a manual locking wheel and an electronic keypad mounted beside it.
The locks slid home with a deep, final thunk that promised nothing was getting through without permission.
Another wall held a bank of monitors, dark until Red flicked a switch.
The screens bloomed to life, showing exterior camera feeds: the tree line, the gravel drive, the porch, the ridge behind the cabin.
“Mo has an identical bank of monitors in his cabin. No one can approach without him knowing about it.”
Kit swallowed hard. “So if the hostiles find me, we hide in here?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be with me?”
“I will. My only job is to protect you. Mo and the team will deal with unwelcome visitors.”
“It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” Kit muttered.
Red viewed this through Kit’s eyes.
A narrow cot was bolted to the wall, neatly made, a heavy blanket folded with military precision at the foot.
Above it, shelves held water, ration packs, a med kit, spare ammo, and a radio sealed in waterproof casing.
A small desk held a satellite phone and a laptop already plugged in, its cables routed cleanly into the wall.
The room smelled faintly of metal and cedar, with an undercurrent of oil and ozone. This wasn’t a place meant for comfort. It was a place meant to survive.
Red stepped back and assessed the room the way he assessed everything else—clear lines of sight, no blind corners, no weak points.
If things went bad, if the danger he felt circling ever broke through the trees and the silence, this room would be where Kit stayed.
And no one was getting to him while Red was breathing.
Red made Kit run through activating the door, accessing the panic room, and closing the door on the world several times before he was satisfied.
“If the alarm sounds don’t hesitate, get in the panic room,” he ordered. “I’ll have your back at all times.”
“I’ve paid to have fun with these places,” Kit said. “It’s different when your life is on the line.”
Red wanted to assure Kit he felt the same way, but he was supposed to be the strong one. Not the one admitting he was scared too.
Kit yawned, his jaw cracking. He grimaced and rubbed his jaw. “I know I slept most of the day, but I feel like I could sleep for hours.”
Red was about to suggest they went to bed when his phone buzzed and he looked at it. “Mo wants to talk to you.”
He held back a grin as Kit edged closer to him.
“To me? He’s kinda scary,” Kit confessed. “You won’t leave me?”
“He is, but there’s no one I’d rather have protecting me. I won’t leave you,” Red promised.
At the knock, Red checked who it was on his phone before he opened it. “Stay out of sight,” he ordered.
To his relief, Kit moved out of the line of sight of the door.
Red took one look at Mo’s expression and knew there was trouble. He stood back to let Mo in.
“Do you want a drink?”
Mo shook his head. “No, I have to get back, but this news couldn’t wait.”
“What’s happened?” Red demanded.
Mo turned to Kit, his expression somber. “Kit, I’m sorry, the clubhouse was torched earlier today. No one was hurt, but there’s nothing left of the building.”