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“What?” I inch toward him, closing the gap.
He veers around me, snatches the misfired bolt from the wall of the shed, and paces off.
“Kodiak.” I jog after him, hating the way he always dismisses me. “You just realized something, didn’t you? Something about Denver? What is it?”
His legs are too long, his gait too determined. There’s nothing I can do to make him talk about this. So I change the subject.
“Why did you help me? With the notebook and hair samples?”
“Wolf’s right.” He slows to a stop but doesn’t turn around. “You’re never leaving here.”
“But?”
“If documenting our family and planning an escape keeps your mind busy…” Staring up at the cloudless gray sky, he rubs the back of his head. “If it keeps you from giving up, take your notes.” His arm drops to his side. “I won’t help you escape, but I won’t stand in your way, either.”
“How does this end? What is Denver planning?”
Without responding, he strides away and disappears behind the smokehouse.
Goddammit, he’s infuriating.
Suddenly chilled, I rub my arms and scan my surroundings.
That’s when I feel it. The instant I’m alone, it creeps in. The threat of something lurking. Rustling sounds behind me. Flickering shadows before me. The menacing presence of something somewhere, everywhere, lying in wait.
Every tiny hair stands erect as I clutch the gun on my hip, race up the stairs, and rush inside. When the door shuts behind me, I slump against the wall.
I’m never stepping outside again. Or at least not for the rest of the day.
After a few hours of basic chores—dusting, mopping, toilet scrubbing—I retire to the library to transfer my notes into the sketchbook Kodiak gave me. I skip lunch but decide to join them for dinner.
It’s already made when I enter the kitchen. Lentils, squash, and some kind of greasy, gamy meat. I don’t ask what it is. I’m just grateful to have something in my stomach.
No one speaks as they shovel food into their mouths. Heads down, they eat with vigor and purpose, making every bite count as if it’s their last.
Forks scrape against plates. Chairs squeak. The flex and grind of scruffy jaw lines steals too much of my attention. But when I’m not focusing on their masculine features, I dwell on their secrets.
“What does this look like when it’s finished?” I wait for three pairs of eyes to lift to me before continuing. “When Denver’s plan for me comes to an end, what does it look like?”
A fork drops, clattering on a plate, drawing my eyes to Leonid.
He pushes his chair back and stands. “What’s supposed to happen and what actually happens aren’t the same.”
“Does that mean…?” I swallow. “Were the other women supposed to live?”
“Of course they were.” Wolf laughs. “What kind of monsters do you think we are?”
I shoot him an arched glare.
“No one wants them to die. Not even Denver.” Leonid carries his dishes to the sink, muttering so quietly I barely hear him. “They were too fragile.”
“What happened?” My stomach sinks with dread.
Across the table, Kodiak meets my eyes, his warning hanging between us.
This place wants to kill you.
“What was the cause of death?” I clasp my hands on my lap, struggling with impatience. “Let’s start with the first woman. Helena Weiss.” Watching them closely, I don’t see anything in their body language to indicate she was Leonid’s mother. “Did she die from hypothermia? Childbirth? Bear attack?” Pulling in a deep breath, I look at Kodiak. “Murder?”
His scowl deepens on his gorgeous face, and he shoves away from the table and rinses his dishes.
“Fear.” Wolf stares out the window. “Fear killed them all.”
My skin pricks with shivery bumps. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, my little red wary berry.” He bends close and puts his face in mine, speaking slowly like I’m a two-year-old. “It means that fear is bad, m’kay? It feeds on the mind. Stay away from it, or it’ll eat you, too. We can’t have that.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Stay away from the hills. Or don’t.” Leonid veers off toward the hallway that leads to the basement, his footsteps fading with his retreat.
“They died in the hills?” Invisible fingers press around my throat as I turn to Kodiak. “Isn’t that where you’re going? Alone?”
His mouth forms a sharp slash of fangs and death. “Out there, I’m the hunter.”
28
Frankie
—
Out there. In here. Doesn’t matter where, I feel like prey whenever Kodiak is near.
“Speaking of the hills, I returned the bones to the pit for you.” Wolf yawns. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m not thanking you for that.” Shuddering, I rub my arms.
He shrugs, claps his hands, and leaps to his feet. “Sauna time.” With a quick rinse of his dishes, he heads to the door. “I’ll get the coals heated.”
Moments later, Kodiak follows him out, leaving me alone in the kitchen.
I wouldn’t mind joining them if only to dig for answers, but I refuse to go outside. The chill from earlier lingers, terrorizing my bones. The frigid darkness will send my heart into cardiac arrest, even if it’s only a two-second walk to the sauna. Maybe it’s my imagination, but my sixth sense swears something is out there, and it wants to kill me.
