“We really need to get our shit together. Mik’s back for one day and we stop noticing things.” I think to myself, as I grab the bag on top and head back towards Mik’s room. I’ll put it just outside her door, that way she’ll see it in the morning and can bring it in to unpack.
Reaching the top of the stairs, soft steps vibrate against the floor,behind me?Turning on the ball of my foot, I silence the gasp that wants to escape, when I see Mik—fully dressed, heading from the kitchen to the front door.
What the fuck?
She goes straight for the suitcase I was going to come back for, looking around frantically for what I can only assume is the backpack I’m holding onto still. My feet move on their own, stealthy, creeping, as I head back down until I’m perched on the bottom step.
Standing there, I watch her for a few moments as she continues to look for her missing stuff. Entirely unaware of my presence. So, with a loud clearing of my already painful throat, I throw the most obvious question at her.
“Looking for this?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Mikayla
While the guys were cleaning up the card game, I was packing my things. Normally, I wouldn’t carry sentimental items with me, but zombies would have to attack before I left my dad’s keychain box behind.
Suitcase packed, backpack borrowed, the last order was to write out a quick note, in hopes it provided them with enough reasoning to not try and come after me.Without going into depths of detail.Once I had everything collected and ready to go by the door, I placed the note on the dresser and climbed into bed. Curled in on myself for one last good night of sleep before I ran from the people I love, in order to keep them safe.
The horrid screech of my alarms pulls me from my dreams and I groan. I know what must be done, but that doesn’t mean I have to enjoy doing it.
Climbing out of bed, I sling the bag over my shoulder and grab the handle of my suitcase. My mind is in a constant state of battling with itself. The want it feels to stay here, stay with them, versus the need to keep them safe. In the end, their safety will always take top priority, but fuck the last few days have made it hard.
With a last longing look around the space they created just for me, I head for the hallway. Closing the door on this part of my life—however fleeting it was. The remaining doors on this floor are all closed, at two in the morning I would expect them to be, but for a moment I wish they weren’t. Allowing me one last look at all of their calm, sleeping faces.
Skulking through the hall and down the stairs, I drop my bags at the door before moving for the kitchen. The air is still and the tension thick on the main floor. Like the house itself is trying to keep me from making it out the door. Forcing me to wade through a fog as I cowardly escape into the night. The fridge light glows, as I grab a bottle of water for the road, and leave my note and the spare keychain on the island countertop. Just like when we were kids, the first place theyhit in the morning is where the food is kept. So, I have little doubt they’ll be able to find it in a timely manner.
My eyes close as I inhale deep, my lungs trying to take in as much of them as I can. When they finally open, I look around once more, seeing the life they built for themselves and each other. The luxury they live in after years of hard work, and I’m so damn proud of them. They are where they’re supposed to be, surrounded by love, light, and success. Molds I don’t fit into any longer.
I’m ruthless, cold, and calculated. The epitome of darkness in a human host, and I refuse to ever snuff out their light.
Heading once again for the door, my steps feel as though someone tied lead weights to my ankles. It’s time to go, and everything in me wants to revolt, but I can’t stall anymore. When I make it back to where I left my bags, I nearly miss the fact that the backpack is missing.
Double checking that it didn’t fall under the table, or behind the plant, it’s still nowhere to be found. I even checked my own shoulders in case I forgot I put it on. What the hell? How does a bag just get up and walk away? If this is another sign it’s not—
A throat clears from the steps, and my spine goes hard. Straightening out as if someone shot a current right through it. How did I miss someone standing there? Better yet, how much has he figured out?
“Looking for this?”
Have you ever been gifted one of those jewelry boxes as a kid? You know, the ones where you wind up the little handle, and a beautiful ballerina starts spinning on the inside. A melodic song playing through a crappy internal speaker, as you pretend for just a moment that you could ever be that graceful? Do you remember how slowly that little ballerina used to turn, as you waited to see her delicate face?
Yeah, I’m that ballerina.
My body is stiff, frozen in my spot but my feet spin of their own accord. Twisting me until I’m met with the sight of a very half-naked, and very annoyed Kade.
Well, shit.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, a feeble attempt at deflection.
“I don’t think it really matters anymore, because judging by the looks of you, it’s a good thing I am.”
My breath rushes out of my lungs, my body physically deflating at being caught. This is the second time, in as many days, where the skills I have learned and honed over a decade, failed when I’m around them. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in the middle of the night, and least of all with Kade.
My brain pinwheels like the loading screen in Internet Explorer as I try and think up a valid excuse for why I’m packed and sneaking out in the middle of the night. Shocker, nothing comes to me.
“Kade…,” I plead, hoping he’ll drop it and go back to bed. Double shocker, that doesn’t happen either.
“No! Not this time, Bear! You don’t get to try and reason or beg your way out of this.” He bounds off the bottom stair, walking straight for me with a tight jaw. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, drawing my eye to his torso. He’s prowling towards me, and being even taller than the others, even my shy little Gemini looks menacing.
