4. Piper
FOUR
PIPER
The pain drags me up from the darkness slowly, like I’m being pulled out of deep, cold water.
My head throbs with a steady, heavy pulse that matches my heartbeat.
My ribs feel bruised and tight, every breath a sharp reminder that something inside me is cracked.
My left leg is a solid wall of fire from the knee down, wrapped so tightly I can barely feel my toes.
Even my hands sting, small cuts burning under the bandages.
For a long moment I don’t know where I am. Then the memories slam into me all at once. The rain. The headlights behind me. The brutal impact. The car tumbling off the road. The shadow moving down the embankment toward me.
My eyes fly open.
A man sits in a wooden chair right beside the bed, watching me.
It’s the same man from the wreck. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair cut short, a hard jaw, and eyes that look like they’ve seen too much.
He doesn’t move when I jolt, but I see the way his hand stays close to the rifle leaning against the wall. He’s calm. Too calm.
I try to sit up fast. Big mistake. Pain explodes through my side and shoots down my leg. A gasp tears out of me and I fall back against the pillows, breathing hard through my teeth.
“Easy,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel. “You’re safe, Piper.”
Safe. The word feels like a trap. I haven’t felt safe in months.
My heart races so fast I can hear it in my ears.
I look around the room, trying to take it all in.
Wooden walls. A stone fireplace with low flames crackling softly.
A big bed that isn’t mine. Simple furniture.
One door that must lead to the rest of the house.
No windows I can see from this angle. It feels quiet. Too quiet.
“Where am I?” My voice comes out scratchy and weak. “Who are you?”
He leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees. He moves like someone who’s used to being still for long stretches. “Name’s Boyd Walker. You’re at Haven 7. It’s a secure compound on Wedding Cake Mountain in Timber Creek, Montana. I found you in the wreck and brought you here.”
Haven 7. The name sounds made up, like something from a survival story.
I try to push myself up again, slower this time.
The pain is still brutal, but I manage to get my back against the headboard.
My left leg is elevated on pillows and wrapped tight.
I’m wearing a soft gray nightgown that isn’t mine.
My clothes are gone. My wallet is probably gone too.
He knows my name. He called me Piper.
“How do you know my name?” I ask. My voice shakes even though I try to keep it steady. “Have you been going through my things? Did you call someone?”
Boyd watches me carefully. He doesn’t look away. “We ran a basic check after I brought you in. No ID was found in the wreckage. Your father reported you missing a few days ago. That’s all we know right now.”
My stomach drops like a stone. Father. Viktor Lane. The man who smiled while he told me accidents happen to curious girls. The man whose money and connections could reach anywhere. If he knows where I am, he’ll come. He’ll come fast and he won’t come alone.
I swallow hard. “How long have I been out?”
“A few days,” Boyd says. “You needed the rest. Eli, our medic, kept you comfortable.”
A few days. That’s enough time for my father to fly here. For him to spin whatever story he wants. It’s long enough for him to drag me back to Denver and make sure I never talk again.
Panic claws up my throat. I swing my good leg over the side of the bed. Pain shoots up my injured one so sharply that black spots dance in my vision. I grit my teeth and try to stand anyway. The room tilts. My knees buckle.
Boyd is there in an instant. He catches me before I hit the floor, one strong arm around my waist, the other supporting my back. He’s warm and solid and smells like pine and clean soap. For one stupid second I want to lean into him, to let those arms hold me up. Then reality crashes back in.
“I have to go,” I say, pushing weakly against his chest. My voice cracks. “I can’t stay here. You don’t understand.”
He doesn’t let go. He holds me steady but gentle, like he knows exactly how much pressure my battered body can take. “You’re hurt bad, Piper. Broken leg. Cracked ribs. Concussion. You’re not going anywhere right now.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I whisper. Tears burn in my eyes but I blink them back hard. “Please. Just… let me leave. I’ll figure it out.”
Boyd guides me back to the bed and helps me sit on the edge. He crouches in front of me so we’re eye level. His gaze is calm, but there’s something fierce underneath it. Protective.
“No one’s coming for you here,” he says quietly. “Not unless you want them to. We haven’t called your father. We haven’t told anyone outside the compound that you’re here. You’re safe.”
Safe. There’s that word again. I want to laugh, but it would probably hurt too much.
“You don’t know my father,” I say. My voice wavers. “If he finds out where I am, he’ll come. And he won’t come alone. He has people. Money. Power. I saw things I wasn’t supposed to see. That’s why they tried to kill me on that road. If I stay here, I’m putting all of you in danger.”
Boyd stays crouched in front of me. He does not interrupt. He just listens. When I finish, he is quiet for a long moment.
“Then we handle it,” he says simply. “This place was built for people running from dangerous things. You’re not the first. I’m sure you won’t be the last.”
I stare at him. He looks completely serious. Like offering to go up against a man like Viktor Lane is just another day for him.
“I don’t even know you,” I whisper.
His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but close. “You know enough. I pulled you out of a wrecked car in the middle of a storm. I haven’t left this room since. That should tell you something.”
It does. It tells me he’s either incredibly kind or incredibly dangerous. Maybe both. And right now I can’t tell which one scares me more.
I look down at my hands. They’re covered in small cuts and bruises.
My mind races. I keep seeing my father’s cold smile the night I confronted him about the books.
The way he said my name like it was a warning.
The black SUV that tried to run me off the road two days later.
I ran because I had no choice. Now I’m here, broken and trapped in a stranger’s cabin, and this man, Boyd, knows my name.
He has had days to look me up. Days to call my father.
What if he already did?
What if my father is already on his way?
The thought makes my chest tighten so hard I can barely breathe. I’ve spent weeks looking over my shoulder. I’ve slept in my car, used cash only, avoided cameras. I can’t let all of that be for nothing.
“I can’t trust this,” I say, more to myself than to him. “I want to. God, I want to. But I’ve been wrong before. People say they’ll help and then they hand you right back to the monster.”
Boyd doesn’t move. He just stays there, crouched in front of me, steady as stone.
“I get it,” he says finally. “You don’t have to trust me yet. But you’re staying until you can walk out of here on your own. That’s not up for discussion. You’re hurt too bad to go anywhere right now.”
I want to argue. I want to demand he take me to the nearest town and drop me off.
But my body feels like it’s been run over by a truck.
Literally. My leg throbs so badly I can’t even put weight on it.
My ribs scream with every breath. The thought of facing the world alone again, broken and bleeding, makes me want to curl up and disappear.
“Okay,” I say finally, voice small and defeated. “For now. But as soon as I can walk…”
“We’ll talk about it then,” he says.
He helps me lie back down. The pillows feel heavenly against my aching head. He pulls the blankets up and tucks them around me with surprising gentleness for someone who looks like he could bench press a truck.
“You need more rest,” he says. “Eli will be by soon to check on you. The women brought some clothes and toiletries. They’re on the dresser. I’ll help you with whatever you need.”
I nod, already feeling exhaustion pull at me again.
My eyes drift shut despite how hard I try to keep them open.
The fear’s still there, churning in my stomach, but Boyd’s presence feels solid.
Too solid. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For him to turn out to be just like everyone else who promised to help.
Before sleep takes me, I hear Boyd settle back into the chair. His voice is quiet in the dim room.
“Sleep, Piper. I’ve got you.”
For the first time in a long time, I let myself believe it might be true. Even if only for a little while.