Everything looks neat and tidy, but that isn't what’s so terrifying about my find. It’s the stack of thick, purple rope, the various guns lining the bottom, and a few knives that look like they’ve been through wear and tear, strapped to the walls that have my hackles rising.
Lightning strikes, the sound cracking like a gunshot as everything floods back to me. I fall onto my ass, rocking the truck as I backpedal until the contents of the toolbox are out ofsight.
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?!” I panic, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my breath comes in quick pants. My eyes scan frantically for anyone, and I lock onto a figure stumbling through the treeline. I sit up on my knees, my heart pounding as I watch the man brace a hand over his stomach. He’s wearing some dark jeans and a button-up shirt tucked into the waistband. Dark hair falls over his face, but I can’t see his features from this distance.
It isn’t Rowan.
Maybe that’s a good thing.
My mind is racing, but one thing is for sure. He tried to tell me, and I didn't fucking believe him. I’ve been sitting beside a murderer this whole time! I can't even think of the things I've done with him. The laughing, joking, and sweet moments all seem like one big lie.
I’m fucking spiraling when I should be running. My fight-or-flight response is delayed by the turmoil I feel. All my life, my mother drilled safety protocols and self-defense into my head. She taught me to trust when things felt off, and I didn't listen to myself.
I knew things were fucked. The weak explanations and Loxley’s reluctance to tell me anything should have been my biggest indicators that something was wrong. I didn’t put my trust in Rowan, but it felt nice to know I wasn't alone in this. I had someone there for me when I needed them most. I put mysafetyin his hands, and he played me for a fucking fool.
Betrayal lances my chest, but I shake it off as my skin begins to tingle with electricity. My adrenaline is urging me to make a choice.
Priorities, Addison!
I have to get away. There has to be someone willing to help me.
The man stumbles closer to the inn, and I climb down with shaky limbs. When my feet crunch across the gravel, his head whips up to me. He’s only a few feet away, and I open mymouth to speak, but stop when he moves his hand.
I notice the blood too late. His shirt is soaked red with a horrible gash that looks like someone tried to saw him in half. When his arm falls to his side, his entrails burst through the jagged flesh, and he falls to his knees with a sickening gargle.
My mouth opens on a scream, but only a weak whimper comes out as I watch the man fall forward, his head scraping over the parking lot. His back rises and falls unnaturally, as if it’s a reflex rather than him.
I can’t move. Not even when his blood begins to pool around the rocks, making rivets that flow with the rainwater.
I’m stunned and petrified.
Everything around me sounds like too much and not enough at the same time. I’m not in my body anymore.
The water soaks me to the bone, but I can't stop staring at the man lying deathly still. It’s as if my mind expects him to just jump up and announce it’s all a prank, but that never happens, and I'm left gawking at a corpse.
There’s a distant scream that shakes me to my core. It echoes through the forest, and I finally blink as I take a few slow steps back. I force myself to look away from the man, closing my eyes as tears well. The bridge of my nose stings, and all I can do is shake where I stand. Sobs wrack my body, but I attempt to stay quiet while I weep. I crouch down in the rain, wiping my tears as I try to get a grip long enough to fuckingbreathe!
“Come on,” I suck in a breath, placing a hand on my racing heart. Bile begins to rise, but I fight it as I take deep gulps of air. “You have to move, Addison—”
There’s another scream. It’s a deep, horrified sound that bounces through the trees.
I shiver, trying to stamp down the fear threatening to pull me under. Going into shock will make me a target. I have tomove.
I have nowhere to go, and probably no one who will listen to me, but I have to try. I have to getsomeone’sattention.
I stumble towards the truck, not sure what my plan is. I eye the toolbox, swallowing down my apprehension. At a time like this, my mother’s first rule comes to mind.
Always have the upper hand, Addison. Whatever you can find, use it.
Years of trips to the shooting range have led me to this very moment. I always thought my mom was being overprotective when she taught me how to fire a gun. Now, I’m praising her as I hoist myself into the back and observe the artillery at my disposal.
Finally, something I can fucking work with.
Morgan Bright taught me to be self-sufficient in difficult situations. This is the first time one of her insane, made-up scenarios has come to life. While it took me some time to remember what was instilled in me since I could walk, I’m glad it’s kicking in now rather than not at all.
I grab a pistol and test its weight. It’s not my first choice, but it’ll do. The magazine is next as I load the gun with a sharp slap. I tap my pocket to make sure my phone is still secure before hopping down from the truck. I face the dark thicket that surrounds this small town, unprepared for what I'm about to face.
“Addison?”
