I didn’t want to think about what Rusty could do with ten seconds. He couldn’t plan a storm. He had no way of knowing if the house would lose power, not unless it was cut.
Maddox’s head lifted to the door, and my gaze quickly followed. Mason leaned casually over the threshold, one shoulder propped against the frame, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Maddox and me with a smirk, trouble and mischief written all over him in equal measure. “What exactly is wrong with my bed?” he asked, his eyes volleying between his twin and me. “And why wasn’t I invited if we’re having a sleepover?”
Maddox snorted, his muscles returning to their relaxed state. “Yours smells like a combination of gym socks, old takeout, and profound regret.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Mason shot back without heat. “At least mine doesn’t smell like Kreed’s perpetual brooding and emotional constipation.”
Before I could roll my eyes at their endless sibling bickering, thunder boomed directly overhead, shaking the house. It was immediately followed by a blinding flash of lightning so bright it turned the room to negative exposure for a heartbeat, every shadow inverted. All three of us jumped, bodies reacting before our brains caught up.
My stomach dropped with sickening speed, unease snaking through my chest as rain began hammering the roof with sudden, violent intensity, thousands of drops striking shingles in chaotic percussion. I glanced toward the rain-streaked window, pulse immediately kicking up several notches. “He should’ve been back by now.”
Mason’s dark brows pulled together as he crossed the room, plopping down at the end of the bed. “Who are we talking about?”
“Kreed,” I said, already reaching for my phone and checking the time stamp on his last message. “He’s been gone way too long for just a run. Over an hour.”
“Maybe he stopped somewhere to wait out the storm,” Mason stated reasonably.
“Something feels wrong,” I muttered, staring out the rain-distorted window.
Maddox nodded. “Yeah. I know what you mean. There’s a weird vibe tonight.”
“And you don’t think it has to do with us all hanging out in Kreed’s bed?” Mason joked, unable to take anything seriously in his life.
Maddox kicked Mason. “Shut up.”
Another massive lightning flashed, and when it faded, a shadow moved the hallway. My heart stuttered. Kreed filled the doorway like he’d been summoned by the storm itself, completely soaked through. Dark hair was plastered flat to his forehead, water streaming down his face in rivulets. His clothes clung to every contour of his body, and water pooled steadily at his feet, dripping onto the floors, but he didn’t seem to give a shit. He was leaning heavily against the door frame, one hand braced against the wood, chest rising and falling with uneven, labored breaths. “Where is she?” he demanded gruffly, and I swore he winced.
I waited for him to notice me on the bed, to lift his head, but a dark patch spreading across the left side of his shirt drew my attention, darker than the rain-soaked fabric. A chill went through my entire body. “Oh my god.” My voice cracked as I bolted off the bed, laptop sliding forgotten across the comforter. “You’re hurt. Jesus, Kreed, you’re bleeding.”
His expression pinched with pain he tried to hide. He lifted his free hand to the side of my face. “You’re safe.”
I was, but he wasn’t.
I touched my fingers over his. They were so damn cold.
Maddox and Mason had crossed the room behind me, flanking Kreed on either side.
“What the hell happened?” Mason barked, sliding an arm immediately under Kreed’s right one to take some of his weight.
“Who the fuck did this?” Maddox demanded simultaneously, his eyes rapidly scanning the blood-soaked fabric across Kreed’s torso as they maneuvered him toward the bed. “Where are they?”
Knowing Maddox, he was ready to tear out of here and hunt down the pricks who laid a hand on one of them.
“I’m okay,” Kreed ground out, jaw so tight the muscle jumped visibly beneath his skin. “He just grazed me.”
I hovered beside them, trying not to freak out or at least not let it show. “You don’t look remotely fine. You look like someone tried to gut you.”
He gave a low, rough chuckle. How he could find anything in this situation amusing was beyond me. “Something considerably smaller than gutting.”
Mason dashed off into the attached bathroom.
“What stabbed you then? A machete? A sword?” My voice pitched higher with each word.
“More like a knife. Standard blade. Maybe paired with a really bad attitude and poor impulse control,” the smartass rattled off.
I wasn’t the only one unimpressed. Maddox shot him a glare. “Did you get a look at him. How many?”
Kreed winced. “Two. Maybe three.”
