2025-05-25 23:57:11
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Chapter 69
The wind rattled the old barn walls, shaking loose bits of straw and dust. Beverley was half-asleep, her head resting on Davion’s shoulder, when he heard it—boots crunching on gravel outside. He stiffened, and Beverley’s eyes snapped open.“Did you hear that?” she whispered.Davion nodded, his hand tightening around hers. Another sound—metal on metal, a quiet click as a gun was readied. His pulse spiked. Beverley’s fingers dug into his arm.“They found us,” she breathed.“Stay low,” Davion said, his voice a low growl. Cold determination settled over him like a second skin. He rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate. The fear was there, but he pushed it down. He had to.He reached for the pistol Beverley had given him. It felt solid and heavy in his hand. Outside, the footsteps grew closer. The door creaked under the weight of an intruding hand.The first man kicked the door open. The beam of his flashlight swept the barn’s dusty interior, slicing through the darkness. Davi
Chapter 68
Beverley’s hands were shaking so bad she almost dropped the phone. She gripped it tighter, her thumb hovering over the call button. Davion watched her, still trying to catch his breath. He could feel the cold air on his face, but he barely noticed it his brain was still buzzing with everything that had just happened.“Call him again,” he said, his voice low and tense. “We need to know what the hell is going on.”“I’m trying,” Beverley said, her voice cracking. She hit the call button and pressed the phone to her ear. The screen glowed in the darkness, bright and cold. She waited, the seconds stretching out like hours.It rang once. Twice. Three times. Then nothing. Straight to voicemail.“Damn it!” she hissed, pulling the phone away from her ear. She tried again, fingers fumbling. Davion could see the panic in her eyes, the way she was barely holding it together.“Come on, Wesley,” she whispered. “Pick up. Please.”Davion leaned against a tree, his legs still trembling from the sprint
Chapter 67
Davion’s heart was still hammering like a drum when he forced himself to push the basement door open. The hinges groaned in protest, loud as hell in the heavy silence. He winced and pressed his shoulder against it, squeezing through the gap. He didn’t dare look back, even though every nerve in his body screamed for him to check if that sniper was still out there.The hallway was just as bad as the basement. The air smelled of rotting wood and stale smoke, and the lightbulb overhead flickered like it was about to die. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, the taste of fear sticking to his tongue.He knew he had to move. Standing still was just an invitation for whoever was up there to put a bullet in his head. He glanced at his phone, but it was dead—no bars, no nothing. Typical. Just when he needed it most, it decided to crap out on him.“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, shoving it back into his pocket. His fingers were still shaking, his palms slick with sweat.He edged down
Chapter 66
Davion threw his hoodie over the back of the chair and rolled his shoulders. His muscles ached from the fight yesterday—every punch, every bruise still screaming at him—but he had to stay sharp. This place—this creepy, falling-apart house—was eating at his brain like a parasite, and if he didn’t stay focused, it’d chew him up and spit him out.He found the punching bag in the basement. It was old and moldy, practically falling apart, but he didn’t care. The air down there was thick with mildew and dust, every breath tasting like death. He wrapped his hands in tape, pulling it so tight that it made his fingers throb, the ache grounding him.Then he started hitting. Hard. Again and again. His fists slammed into the bag, the thuds echoing in the dark like a heartbeat. He didn’t think about Beverley’s eyes or the way her voice cracked when she told him she was sorry. He didn’t think about the promises or the secrets they’d made. He just focused on the bag and the sting in his knuckles. Hi
Chapter 65
I swear, the longer I stay in this place, the more it feels like some twisted reality show. Everyone’s playing a part,Margaret with her queen bee attitude, Wilson the clown who’s also weirdly brave, Beverley the ghost who can’t look me in the eye. And me? I’m the guy no one wants to admit they’re scared of.After breakfast,or whatever that awkward gathering was,I didn’t stick around. I needed to breathe. Needed to get out before I lost my mind completely.The rain had stopped, but the air still smelled like wet dirt and regret. I pulled my hood up and stepped outside, ignoring the sting of cold water seeping through my shoes.The yard was quiet, like the world forgot this place existed. I kicked at a rock, watched it roll across the mud. My head was spinning with questions I couldn’t ask out loud. Like, why are we even here? What are we supposed to be doing, besides pretending we’re a family when we’re not?I leaned against the old fence, feeling the rough wood scrape at my hoodie. My
Chapter 64
Davion came down the stairs with slow, measured steps. He didn’t care that he was still half-drenched from his early morning training in the rain or that his hoodie clung to him like a second skin. His jaw was locked tight, eyes sharp and unreadable. The main room of the safehouse—if you could even call it that—smelled like eggs and burnt toast.He hated that smell.He stepped into the dining area without a word. Everyone turned to look at him.Wesley was the first to speak, of course. “Morning, man. How’d you sleep?”Davion didn’t answer at first. He just stared at Wesley for a long second, letting the silence hang heavy. Then, in a voice as cold as a blade, he said, “Didn’t.”Wesley gave a little awkward chuckle like he was trying to lighten the mood. “Well… at least you're consistent.”“Yeah,” Davion muttered. “Lucky me.”There was a pause. Wesley scratched the back of his head, then motioned toward the table where plates were half-filled with food. “You can sit with us, if you wan
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