2025-05-27 23:58:26
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Chapter 71
Reaper stood at the edge of the forest, hidden by the shadows of the trees. The night was freezing, but he didn’t feel it. His eyes were locked on the two figures struggling along the narrow dirt road: Davion and Beverley. They were moving slow, stumbling and leaning on each other like they were about to fall any second. Reaper smirked. He could smell their fear from here, and it was like music to his ears.The cold moonlight cut through the trees, turning everything to silver and black. Reaper’s breath fogged in the air as he tilted his head, watching them like a cat watching mice. Davion was hurt—Reaper had seen the blood earlier when he’d gotten a closer look. He knew Davion was tough, but even the toughest people bled, and even the strongest got tired. Beverley… she looked like she’d break any second, but she kept going anyway, refusing to let go of Davion’s arm.It was almost sweet. Almost. But Reaper didn’t have much time for sweet. Sweet was for people who wanted happy endings,
Chapter 70
The night was so dark it was like the sky had eaten everything. The cold air scraped against Bev’s skin, making her shiver even though her chest burned from all the running. Her heart was pounding so loud it drowned out everything else—except for Davion’s ragged breathing beside her.He was hurt bad, but he wouldn’t stop. Every time she tried to slow down or make him rest, he’d just shake his head and say, “Not now.” His voice was all rough and scratchy, like he was forcing every word through the pain.They stumbled down this old dirt road that barely counted as a path. The moon kept disappearing behind the clouds, so sometimes she couldn’t even see his face—just his shape, limping but still moving forward like nothing could knock him down. Blood kept dripping from the wound on his side, even though he had his hand pressed there. It left these dark blotches in the snow, a trail for anyone who wanted to find them.Bev hated it. She hated how open and exposed they were out here. Her fin
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
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