I turn around and stab a finger into his chest, cutting off the words before they can leave his mouth. “Don’t fucking say it,” I hiss. “I’m not fucking crazy.”
“I never said you were,” Breaker says, but the sympathy in his eyes makes my hands ball into a fist, the urge to punch the expression off his stupid, beautiful face making my teeth grind. “I’m just saying—”
I shove past him, not wanting to hear it. That’s why he’s here. He’s worried about me. Yeah, well, I’m worried about Hunter. Breaker didn’t see what I saw all those years ago. He saw the man in the woods that day, tied to a tree and gutted. He saw the level of depravity that is Rune Gavin, but he didn’t see it. Didn’t smell it.
Didn’t hear it.
Not like I did.
Like Hunter did.
We were the unfortunate ones to stumble upon that place soaked in evil.
“Have you heard from Father?” I ask, my voice too sharp as I settle back in my chair.
“No,” Breaker says. I don’t look his way as he sits back on the bed and mutes the TV, but I think that may be worse becausenow the noise in my head is louder. “He said he’d contact us if he heard anything.”
I nod, returning my gaze to the parking lot outside the window. The low mountain range provides a picturesque backdrop for the small city nestled in the foothills. Our hotel rests on the edge of town, near the national park. The landscape here reminds me of my home county. Lush and green, but not as vibrant. Maybe it’s because whatever evil Rune unleashed in those woods all those years ago seeped into the earth and stained the soil, dulling it.
Outside the window, families pack up their cars, preparing to travel the roads that line the reserve, or set off for a day of adventure on the trails snaking through the forests outside of town. Little do they know that miles and miles beyond, nestled up to the edges of the state park, lies a haunted place, littered with dead bodies and ruined lives.
The place where Hunter is right now.
“He’s working on a plan,” Breaker says, and I sense him moving. He sits across the table from me, but I don’t look his way.
I can’t. He’ll see how terrified I am.
“It’s been three days,” I remind him, though he doesn’t need it.
We’ve sat in this hotel room, ready to move in again at a moment’s notice, but have been given no order to get Hunter back. Father says it’s too risky right now. Even when Reaper screamed and raged, and nearly got us kicked out of this hotel, threatening to go alone, Father told him he would not risk all his sons again. That he and Rune will reach a deal and Hunter will be returned to us.
He just needs time.
But Father never saw what I did. And I never told him.
Hunter doesn’t have time.
“Where do you think they came from?” I ask.
Breaker takes a deep breath. “No clue.”
“There were a lot of soldiers.” I catch his brows lifting and his nod. “Who would have that many? And who would have told Rune we were coming?”
“No fucking clue,” Breaker says.
Behind me, a beeping sound rings through the quiet room, indicating the lock has been disengaged. My gaze collides with Breaker’s, then we’re both moving. I lunge for my gun on the bedside table, and Breaker stands, reaching for his in the holster behind his back. The second the door opens, we’re both ready and aiming, fingers on the trigger.
“Fuck,” I grate when I see Reaper entering the room. He briefly looks at our drawn weapons as he shuts the door, his face devoid of all emotion. “You’re supposed to text me before you come in.”
Reaper glances at my phone on the nightstand and shrugs.
“How is Striker?” Breaker asks. “Has there been a change?”
“He’s stable enough to move,” Reaper says. “The surgeon Father flew in said Striker will be fine.”
“Thank fuck,” Breaker murmurs, returning his gun to its holster and sitting back down. “When do we move him?”
Reaper shrugs, sitting down at the end of the bed. He rubs his jaw, then runs a hand through his hair. He looks strained, far more than I feel, like his skin is stretched too thin. The deep circles under his eyes mean he’s not sleeping. Not that any of us are.
