The poker is where I left it, propped against the fireplace. Though ornamental, it’s made of heavy iron. I would know—Melissa nearly caved my fucking skull in with it.
I wrap my fingers around the handle as I stride toward the sliding glass door.
Beyond the window, snow falls in a curtain, blurring the edges of the world. But the floodlights illuminate a swathe of white.
And standing in that light, like something out of a religious fever dream, are two figures.
They’re holding hands.
I laugh.
Because obviously I’m hallucinating.
Reliving Billy’s last moments has finally driven me mad. My brain has conjured the two people I can’t stop thinking about just to torment me some more.
One of them sways, nearly falling, and the other catches them and yells, “Rooke!”
So not a hallucination, then.
Kai and Haven are in my backyard, in the driving snow, clinging to each other like a modern day Hansel and Gretel stumbling upon the witch’s house.
The thought makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
Am I the witch in this scenario? The monster who lures lost children inside with promises of warmth and sweetness, only to devour them?
Or am I the huntsman? The one who arrives too late to prevent the horror, but just in time to save what’s left?
The cold slams through my black Henley when I slide open the door.
I don’t care.
I’m rushing over to them, poker forgotten, bourbon forgotten, crossing the yard like the two broken creatures in my floodlights are the only things that exist.
“What the hell is going on?”
Kai is wearing the same clothes he wore to the restaurant, but they’re filthy. The bottom of his slacks are soaked with mud, sweat and melted snow forming dark patches on his shirt.
He’s not wearing a jacket because he gave it to Haven.
But that’s not why I’m struck immobile.
Blood.
It’s everywhere. On both of them. Their hands, their faces, their clothing.
I can’t tell who it belongs to, but from the way Haven nearly fainted just now, I have to assume it’s hers.
Until I notice how Kai’s favoring one leg, and the stain spreading down his other thigh—too dark for snow or sweat. I glimpse flesh through a rip in his slacks.
I close the distance between us, my hands going to Kai’s shoulders. He flinches at the contact, then sags against me like he’s been too scared to fall apart until now.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” he rasps.
Haven doesn’t react to my presence at all. She’s staring straight ahead, her eyes glassy and vacant. She’s drenched, shivering violently, and there’s something wrong with the way she’s standing—like a marionette with half its strings cut.
“Get inside,” I growl.
Kai takes one step before his legs give out. I catch him—catch them both—before they topple to the snowy ground.
