"Okay, Eva Rae," I muttered to myself, steeling my nerves. "Time to end this."
Pushing the car door open, I stepped out into the deluge. Rain plastered my hair to my face and soaked through my clothes in an instant, but I barely noticed the chill. My eyes flicked left and right, searching the shadows that loomed around the cabin.
The air was thick and heavy with the scent of wet earth and pine, and the sound of the storm seemed to swallow the world whole. Yet, beneath it all, there was something else—a tension that set my teeth on edge—a promise of confrontation, of truths about to be laid bare.
Slippery mud clung to my boots as I made my way up the path, a narrow ribbon of trampled grass that wound its way to the front of the cabin. Every step was a silent battle against the muck and the torrential downpour that tried to push me back. My fingers tightened around the grip of my gun, knuckles whitening with the effort to keep it steady.
The rain was relentless, pounding on my shoulders like an incessant drummer, urging haste and caution in equal measure. Water cascaded off my face, blurring my vision, but not enough to deter me from the task at hand. I kept close to the shadowed edge of the cabin, thankful for the obscurity provided by the storm.
I reached the window, myheart drumming in sync with the rain. Through the pane, distorted by rivulets of water, Will's figure was a smudge of complacency. He lounged in an armchair, the amber glow of a fire casting dancing shadows across his features. A smirk played on his lips as he toasted the air with his glass, the rich brown liquid catching the firelight.
"Enjoying yourself, are you?" I whispered, almost impressed by his nerve.
My pulse quickened—not from exertion but from the knowledge that every second counted. The rain continued its relentless assault, but inside, Will reveled in warmth and solitude, or so he believed. This was it—the confrontation I had been chasing. I wiped a hand over my face, brushing away the water and the doubt.
"Time's up, Will," I murmured, a promise to myself more than anyone else.
A silhouette caught my eye. My heart skipped into a gallop, pounding against my ribs as if trying to break free. Another figure, motionless, stood in the corner of the room.
I straightened up, wiping the wet from my face. The rain had soaked through my clothes, each droplet a cold reminder of reality. There was no turning back. A deep breath filled my lungs, mingling with the scent of pine and damp earth. It grounded me and sharpened my focus.
"It’s time, Eva Rae," I whispered to myself. "You've got this."
I stepped back from the window, my sneakers leaving imprints on the muddy ground. Every cell in my body tensed,ready for what would come next. I approached the door, the weapon heavy and slick in my grip.
"I need answers," I demanded internally. "Now."
Hand hovering, I hesitated. Every scenario played out in rapid succession—ambush, deceit, the glint of a hidden weapon. Danger was a palpable taste in my mouth, metallic and sharp like the scent of lightning in the air.
Rain lashed, relentless. It muddled sound but did nothing to dampen the throb of adrenaline coursing through me. My fingers twitched, inches from wood that might as well have been a gate to the unknown. Still, I leaned closer, ear angled toward the sliver of space beneath the door.
Silence wasn't what I got.
Muffled laughter trickled through the gaps, a low hum of conversation barely discernible. Words lost to the downpour, their tone teased at normalcy. Was it a ruse? A casual chat over brandy had no place here, not with Angela's life snuffed out and justice hanging by a thread.
"Stay sharp," I muttered, a mantra against the unease.
The rain's rhythm shifted, a staccato on leaves, wind rising. It cloaked me, perhaps masking any giveaway sounds of my presence. Yet, there was something else—an undertone beneath nature's roar—a clink of glass, the shuffle of movement.
I straightened, instincts on overdrive, gun a cold weight against my palm. Showtime.
With purpose, I raised my hand to the worn wood surface of the cabin door. A deafening silence fell upon the clearing as if nature itself held its breath. Three sharp raps broke the quiet, the sound cutting through the storm like a verdict.
"Will!" My voice came out steel-clad, unwavering despite the tempest around me. "Open up. We need to talk."
Nothing.
My knuckles rapped hard against the door once more, three solid thuds that resonated with my pounding heart. Each knock was a drumbeat. There was no going back now. Whatever lay on the other side of that threshold was a mystery I was about to unravel.
"Will!" Louder this time, assertive, leaving no room for doubt or delay.
Rain battered the earth, a relentless drumming that drowned out all else. I stood motionless but for the rise and fall of my chest. The gun's weight was a constant in my hand as I scanned the tree line, searching for shadows that didn't belong.
Nothing.
My gaze returned to the door. Seconds stretched like hours.
The cabin door groaned, inching open. Hinges protested, voicing age and disuse. A sliver of light, then more, until Will filled the frame. His eyes widened, an eyebrow arching in silent question—or was it accusation?
