Page 112 of Speechless
“Not until Jenna’s out of harm’s way, anyway. I’m not planning on dying tonight, Cain,” he assured him with a sober face. “But I’m not walking into this thinking everything’s going to be sunshine and roses either.”
The flashlight swung so the beam hit Connor in the face. He yelped and threw his hand up to block it. “What the fuck, Cain? Are you trying to blind me?”
“I’m double-checking.”
“For what?”
“That you’re still the brother who believes he can change the outcome of a situation if he wants it badly enough. That you’renotgonna do something fucking stupid like throw yourself on your goddamn sword for that girl if you don’t have to.”
“I don’t—”
“Bullshit, bro. Look me in the eyes and tell me you won’t throw yourself into the fray without taking a second to weigh shit up first.” Jabbing his finger into the puff of Connor’s jacket, Cain rolled his eyes. “Can’t do it, can you, hero?”
Connor shoved the flare gun back into his pack, zipped it up tight. He ran a hand over Luna’s head as he stood. “I’ll do what I have to do, as I’ve done from the start, Cain. My life for hers, if that’s what it takes.”
“Just wait until I bring the cavalry, yeah?”
Knowing his time was ticking down, Connor nodded and stepped forward, yanking his brother into a bear hug Cain immediately reciprocated. Arms tight, they gripped each other without a word, then broke apart.
“Go get your girl, Connor. I’ll be back.”
Cain disappeared back the way they’d come, leaving Connor and Luna gazing after him until the light from his torch was long gone. Connor stood, fondling the dog’s ears as she leaned against his leg, and prayed his brother made quick time getting back to the road safely.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Luna.” He glanced around at the darkness, waited for something to usher him in the right direction. He couldn’t deny it was fucking creepy out here, especially now he was on his own—having another voice helped keep the irrational boogie monster from freaking him out, he discovered.
Without it, he felt incredibly isolated.
Luna licked his hand and whined, stirring him into action, and he ordered himself to think reasonably. He discounted the route behind him—Luna hadn’t signaled anywhere along the initial part of their trek. The next part of the journey began here, but where…
“I think it’s down to you, girl. Find, Luna. Find Jenna.”
She waited for a moment before she padded off, head lifted, black nose snuffling softly in the freezing air. She didn’t rush, didn’t break into a run. She just meandered along, sniffing and searching, leading Connor deeper into the woods and up steeper inclines.
Soft ground underfoot became rocky, icy. While Luna took the change in conditions in stride, Connor found himself having to step more carefully, assessing where he placed his feet. One tumble back down the craggy hill and it was game over.
Twenty minutes later, Luna signaled against another tree. Another, smaller smear of dark brown at waist height. Connor saw Jenna rushing down the hill in her bare feet, picking up uncontrollable momentum, banging into the tree and holding on for dear life before terror sent her staggering down the hill again.
Again and again, he let Luna take the lead, stemming his impatience when she faltered and backtracked. Without her, he’d have taken completely the wrong direction. They found a scrap of material—which he identified as part of the dirty rags she’d been wearing—caught up in a buckthorn bush. More blood on several trees, and the dog went crazy when she found a hidden dent in soft earth beneath an overhanging rock.
Shelter, he thought as he laid his gloved hand on the earth.
Dawn began to shimmer over the peak of the hill. Shimmering light turning the darkness to gray. A bird trilled prettily, a lone song echoing in the snowy wilderness, only to be joined by another, and another.
And through the rising gloom, he saw it.
“Luna, heel.” The command rang sharp and low, summoning the dog to his side without hesitation. She pressed against his leg, alert despite the long and fucking exhausting night.
How the fuck did no one know about this place, he wondered as his eyes raked over the two-story log cabin sprawling over the hillside. It wasn’t immaculate on the outside, far from it, but he was willing to bet the inside was decked out to fit a king.
Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, a dying fire ready to be extinguished or replenished. Lights were off in the dozen windows he could see, but that didn’t mean anything. Not everyone flipped on a switch when they went for a piss at the crack of dawn.
No vehicle out front, he noted, and no garage he could see. If this was Sire’s place, he had to have a method of getting his victims up here in the middle of nowhere. Not that anyone would hear someone scream—they were miles away from any form of civilization.
Connor decided he was buying the damn dog a fucking buffalo leg as a reward.
He searched the property he could see from five hundred feet away. There was no garden per se, just the natural wildness of the hillside surrounded by trees. The house was essentially sat in an alcove carved into the hill. His gaze tracked left and his heart stopped beating when he saw the vague outline of an outbuilding.
A shed.