“So you thinketh... and now death gon’ thinketh too.Youdefinitely might die tonight with that mindset… butI’mnot. You gotta watch your words, Adrian. Speak life. Lord, coverme,‘cause his mouth don’t know better. I rebuke every word he just uttered. Amen. But Adrian, if you must know… that bear isn’t here for us. He ain’t breaking in talkin’ ‘bout, ‘Ooh, let me eat some humans today.’ He smelled food… probably them damn garlic knots you didn’t seal up last night.”
“You think he smelled garlic knots through a wall?!”
“Yes,Einstein.Wait, no. What’s the opposite of Einstein?You.But yes, bears have a sense of smell seven times better than a bloodhound…seven.If you so much as think about reheating wings, a bear two towns over might pull up with ranch.”
“Wait! Don’t bears supposed to be sleeping this time of year?”
I gave him a quick side-eye. “Well, look at you, National Geographic. But yes and no. You ever met a hungry man in the middle of a nap? Same thing. If they don’t eat enough before hibernation, they wake up broke, irritable, curious, and starving.Congratulations—you just disturbed a hangry bear, in desperate need of a snack and a stimulus check.”
Adrian blinked rapidly, clearly taken aback. “How do you even know so much about bears? You’re a psychology professor, not… not some wild cousin of Steve Irwin!”
I leaned closer, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Andyethere you are, nervous and reliant on me for guidance. But to answer your little question, it’s because Iread,Adrian. Unlike you, I don’t scroll past every animal survival post and think, ‘That doesn’t apply to me.’ Well, guess what? Tonight? It absolutely does.”
The bear grumbled softly and nosed the coffee table with its powerful snout, poking at the scented candle as if confused why the warm donut smell wasn’t edible—definitely not what it was seeking.
“See? He’s not interested in us. He’s hungry, not homicidal.”
“But what if he gets bored with snacks and wants some dark meat?!” Adrian murmured, his voice barely above a panicked squeak.
“Adrian, chill out. If he wanted dark meat, I’d be first on his menu. Trust me, that bear came looking for flavor. I take care of myself. I moisturize, and I consume my vitamins. Just call me the premium cut of meat. You, on the other hand? You’re seasoned with marijuana and stress. That bear would sniff you and walk clean past like, ‘Mmm… not fresh. He smells like anxiety and regret.’”
Right on cue, the bear pawed at the candle again, letting out a low, tired snort, as if even he was fed up with the unfolding drama.
“See?” I pointed firmly. “He agrees. You’re safe. Now hush and follow my lead before you add panic to the menu.”
Adrian and I started backing up like we were rewinding a bad decision.
I lowered the gun and stretched my arm out.
“Slow. Slow. Bears may have poor eyesight, but their sense of smell and hearing are top-notch. So all that screaming like you just caught your mama filming an OnlyFans video? Definitely not the move.”
Adrian trembled like loose change rattling in a washing machine. “How the hell did it get in?!”
I took a moment, turning my head with exaggerated slowness to gather my thoughts.
“Apparently, somebody left the door unlocked.”
He blinked at me, jaw slack.
“And for your sake?” I added with a mocking laugh, savoring the suspense. “You better pray it wasn’t you.”
Right then, I remembered that Bryce had told me to call him if I needed anything, so I took advantage of that offer in that moment. I snatched my phone and hit call, praying he’d pick up. But surely there was no way he didn’t hear Adrian’s scream echo through the cabin like he saw Sallie Mae and the Grim Reaper walk in together.
Chapter eight
Bryce
“Survival of the Fittest: Bryce and Chesteria Passed. Isis and Adrian Failed.”
Icouldn’t sleep. My mind kept replaying the day like a movie stuck on the same irritating scene. I’d been staring up at the ceiling, arms folded behind my head, pissed off that I let myself get roped into this kumbaya cabin retreat bullshit. Chesteria was worth being annoyed over. Those other two? Absolutely the fuck not.
I was about to close my eyes until I heard a scream. It was loud, panicked, and far too human to be the wind or the cabin creaking.
Isis jerked in the bed next to me. “Bryce, what was that?!" she fretted in a low tone, eyes wide as if she just saw Jesus moonwalk past the window.
I didn’t even look at her. I was already halfway out of the bed, slipping into my sweats.
“It was a scream,” I responded dryly. “What the hell you think it was, Isis? A goddamn lullaby?”
