Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But I know what I saw, Aubrey. They were people at one point. People who looked…changed. And they moved like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
I shake my head, rubbing the tears away with hasty swipes of my hands, willing them to stop. I can’t cry, I can’t lose it, not now. “This is insane,” I mutter. “All of it. I…I can’t—” My voice breaks, emotion overwhelming logic, training, everything.
God damn it.
Jensen reaches for me, but I step back, away from the comfort he offers. I can’t accept it. Not now. Not when the weight of his deception still crushes my chest.
“We’ll head back tomorrow to the ranch,” he says after a moment. “First light. Get everyone safely back to Lost Trail. Figure out our next move from there. See if we can get people out looking for Hank. People who aren’t us. We’re too close to this.”
The logical part of me knows he’s right. In this weather, with Hank gone and danger lurking in the darkness, retreat is the only sensible option. The cabin doesn’t feel safe anymore, not with those things out there.
But something else rises in me, pushing past fear and reason. The same drive that propelled Lainey into these mountains. The same hunger for truth, for answers, for connection.
“No,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “I want you to take me there. Where you took them.”
Jensen stares at me, disbelief written across his features. “Aubrey. You saw what happened to Hank. You saw the warning at Cedar Creek.”
“Actually I didn’t. We don’t know what happened to Hank and all I saw at the creek was a deer carcass,” I say, and mean it. “You owe me this, Jensen. You owed my sister, and you failed her. You owe me the truth. The whole truth. Not just the parts you think I can handle.”
“But the truth is there are things out there that will hunt and kill you. Things that I don’t even know can be killed in return.”
The fire pops and hisses in the silence that follows, casting long shadows across the cabin walls. Outside, the storm continues to rage, a fitting backdrop to the tempest inside me.
“Then I need to see it,” I say more softly, holding his gaze. “The caves where you lost them. Where Lainey found…whatever she found. I need to understand what happened to her.”
What could happen to me.
Her blood is in my blood, after all.
Have I always been just a few wrong steps away from madness?
For a long moment, Jensen says nothing, his expression unreadable in the flickering firelight. Then, slowly, he nods.
“Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll take you.”
The promise settles between us, as solemn as a vow. As binding as blood.
As dangerous as the hunger that waits in the dark.
19
JENSEN
The cabin is quiet in the faint light of dawn, save for the soft crackling of the fire I just stoked and the occasional creak of timber as the cabin settles. The storm blew itself out sometime in the early hours, leaving behind a world transformed—pristine drifts piled high against the windows, tree branches sagging under their white burden, the sky above clearing to a perfect, painful blue.
It would be beautiful if not for the weight of dread sitting like a stone in my gut.
I check my watch—5:47 a.m. Early, but we need to move soon if we’re going to make it back to the ranch before nightfall. Looking up, I see Aubrey emerge from the small bathroom, already dressed in layers, her face scrubbed clean, eyes rimmed red from crying or lack of sleep. Probably both.
“Morning,” I offer, keeping my voice low to avoid waking the others upstairs.
She doesn’t respond, just moves to her sleeping bag and begins rolling it with mechanical precision. The message is clear: she’s not speaking to me unless absolutely necessary.
Can’t say I blame her. I’ve been lying to her since the day she showed up at the ranch, withholding the truth about Lainey, about what happened three years ago in these mountains. About my part in all of it. They’re not the only lies I’ve been holding back but they’re the ones that have mattered the most.
They’re the ones that have broken us apart, whatever us there was.
I busy myself with breakfast, setting a pot of coffee to boil and laying out provisions from our supplies. Simple tasks to fill the silence, to avoid staring at her and the way her shoulders stay rigid with tension every time I move near her.
Last night, after our confrontation—after I’d finally told her the truth about Lainey and Adam, about taking them into these mountains, about losing them to whatever lurks in the caves—Aubrey had been adamant. She wanted to see the place where it happened. Needed to understand what her sister found, what compelled her to follow the path that led to her disappearance.