Chapter 69 - Torrin
I stay frozen under the motorcoach, gravel biting into my forearms, dirt pressed to my cheek.
My heartbeat is loud as hell in my ears and the boots crunching on the road near me are way too close.
Mars rolled out five minutes ago, the stubborn bastard.
I tried to get him back, but he didn’t listen.
Of course he didn’t. Just like he didn’t listen when we all begged him to call us back and explain why he took off.
And now here we are, crawling around in the dirt like rats while British-accented assholes roam our street with guns.
I want to punch something. Preferably, my father, assuming I’m right about who’s behind this fucking invasion.
It has to be him. There are too many signs that these are his men who he’s always ruled with an iron fist, just like he ruled over my mom and me.
He always was the opportunistic kind, waiting for a disaster to sweep in and claim power like a damn vulture would be perfectly in his playbook and would stroke his ego, verifying that he’s better than everyone else.
But Luna. Fuck. I close my eyes, swallow down the fear clawing at my insides. She’s in that house. If they find her… No. I’m not letting that happen.
I slide out from under the RV again, my body stiff and filthy, and sprint low to the garage door.
My key slides in, smooth and quiet, thank fuck I thought to grab them when we ditched the truck.
The lock clicks, and I ease the door open just enough to slip inside.
My breath hitches as I press it closed again.
The garage is dim with just a little bit of light coming from the narrow windows on the overhead door, but it’s enough to see the stacks of boxed groceries that have been piled everywhere.
I have no idea why the garage now looks like a food warehouse, but it’s not important right now.
I slip my shoes off to quiet my steps and pad through the garage to the house door, crack it open, and slip into the hallway.
I take the stairs two at a time, moving like a shadow. Her door is open with the bed made but the room is empty. I check her bathroom and closet and peek under the bed in case she’s hiding, but find nothing. Fuck.
I double back, dart into my room, and grab the bat from under my bed. The old wooden Louisville Slugger feels heavier than I remember, but comforting, like an extension of the rage simmering in my chest.
Then the front door slams open downstairs. Voices and heavy boots ring out, so I throw myself to the floor and roll under my bed, gripping the bat tightly, barely daring to breathe.
"Nothing on the main floor. Check upstairs," one of them barks.
Bootsteps hit the stairs. My muscles lock. I go stone still as dust tickles my nose, and I fight the urge to sneeze.
"Clear," someone calls from Luna’s room.
"Nothing here either. Let’s go, mate. It’s empty."
Their voices fade, but I wait until I hear the front door close before I start to breathe again and count to twenty before rolling out from under the bed into a crouch, bat at the ready.
Slowly, I make my way to the door and listen.
When I’m met with silence. I step into the hall, careful and quiet, ready to go search for where Luna might be hiding. I’ve only taken two steps when…
"Oi, be just a second," a new voice says from below. "Saw a video game I’ve been wanting. Calling dibs!"
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
I dive back into my room, heart hammering as I slide under the bed again.
The bat clinks softly against the wood floor.
I clamp a hand over my mouth. I can hear him now.
One set of boots walking with zero urgency, like he’s fucking shopping in our house.
I hear drawers open. Something falls with a thud. A soft laugh.
Come on, you bastard. Take your loot and piss off. Because if he comes up here… I might just forget the plan and smash his face in, and that could blow everything. It’ll have his mates coming back to look for him.
So I wait. Again. Gripping the bat tighter. Praying he leaves and hoping Luna is still safe somewhere in this house and that I’m not already too late.