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Prologue
Lana
It's a crisp Fall evening when I leave my apartment to go for my nightly run. I honestly hate running, but it's better than attending a gym with men whose gazes linger too long making my skin crawl. Attention is the last thing I want. So I run later in the evening to avoid possible interactions.
At this hour, I imagine most people are getting ready for bed or perhaps already in dreamland, preparing for an early start with either a 9-5 job or getting their kids to school. I had neither a 9-5 job nor kids. What I did have was a copy of my letter of resignation I had given to my bit too handsy boss and a black cat with a tissue eating problem.
It's been a month since I quit and I have felt such a weight lifted off my shoulders and a sense of freedom. That office job was slowly sucking the life from me while my boss wanted me to suck the life from him if you know what I mean. The guy couldn't take a hint even though that “hint” was the word no half a dozen times.
Before quitting my job, I had saved up enough money to get by for a bit while I decide what I want to do next. I need a new start and although I hate running, it does help me relax and think clearly. I also find the night sky to be so soothing with its shimmering stars and moon, I could stare up at the sky for hours and get lost in it.
“Like a Stone” by Audioslave is playing in my ears as I pass a park with a basketball court that’s usually filled with people during the day. I continue down the street until I pass Betty’s Diner and then suddenly my music stops. I pull out my phone from my fanny pack to find my battery just died. Well, that's just great. Music helps make these runs bearable. I pick up the pace a bit more listening to nothing but my hard footsteps on the cement sidewalk and faint chirps from crickets.
I'm on my last block which is my least favorite because it's so secluded and far from the main road. As I round a corner I nearly bump into a large bearded man with his sweatshirt hood up smoking a cigarette. Smoke is blown into the air between us and I fight the urge to swat it away. I can't stand the smell of cigarettes.
“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” I say startled.
I would say he’s an attractive man except the stick of poison hanging from his mouth is quite the turn off.
“No worries, miss,” the man says back with a surprisingly bright smile as he turns and starts walking backwards still staring at me. Like that’s not creepy at all.
I nod and turn to resume running when this time I actually do bump into something. A tree. No. A person. Another man. Gosh, what is wrong with me tonight? In my defense it's rare I run into anyone on my runs let alone two people back-to-back.
I lift my gaze to meet his face and I find myself staring up at a man who towers over me, easily over six feet tall while I stand at a mere 5’2”. His piercing pale blue eyes shine brightly even in the dimly lit night, reminiscent of a vibrant spring sky. However, his face is obscured by a ski mask and his hood pulled up, leaving only his captivating eyes visible. A sense of unease washes over me, prompting me to instinctively take a step back from him.
“I’m— I’m sorry. I didn't see you there,” I manage to say, trying to keep a steady voice.
The blue-eyed man just continues staring at me. My blood runs cold. I start to take another step back when I'm suddenly grabbed from behind and a cloth is pressed over my mouth. Panic takes hold of me as I instinctively inhale and struggle to break free. I look at the man in front of me again, my eyes begging for help, as if he wasn't part of this. His gaze falters, casting downward as if ashamed. Then my vision turns black.
Chapter 1
Callum
Fifteen years later, I'm heading to the prison to pick up my big brother who is finally being released today after serving a lighter sentence than he deserved. At least that's what the public’s opinion was. Did they care that our father had a temper and physically as well as mentally abused us? Did they care that it was technically self-defense and he was a piece of shit? No. My brother had a bit of a bad history with the law since we were kids. And at twenty-three years old the public just saw him as a violent criminal who just added the murder of our father to his record and they believed he deserved to be locked away for life.
My brother is far from a saint. He’s fucked up and battling his own inner demons. I hold our dad responsible for the role he played in creating what my brother turned into. But, he’s my big brother and I can’t deny the bond we share. What he did that day fifteen years ago saved my life. I was eighteen years old and my life would have been drastically different if not for Cole. I owe him everything.
I'm waiting outside leaning against my truck when I see Cole strolling out of the prison a free man. He sees me and throws his arms up yelling, “Little bro!”
I push off the truck smiling and jog over to him. We collide with a strong hug.
“It's good to see you, Cole.”
“Well, if you visited more—"
“Don't start with that,” I say, cutting him off.
A few years ago they moved him to this prison which made it a three-hour drive one way. Between my demanding full-time construction job with plenty of overtime, it became increasingly challenging to visit regularly. I know Cole understood and didn’t hold it against me. He just liked busting my balls.
“Ah, yea, let bygones be bygones. It's a new day. A fresh start. Let’s get outta here and head home,” he says with a pat to my shoulder.
We get in my truck and began the three-hour drive home. Home being the same house we grew up in. The same house our father was killed in. I could have sold it but it didn’t feel right to sell the only home Cole has ever known while he was locked up. Plus it’s been passed down from generations and it's a pretty sweet setup.
The property has a large amount of land and it’s set back into the woods away from the main street and even further from the center of town. Most people don't even know there's a house back here. It feels as though we exist solely to the wildlife that surrounds us, and I honestly prefer it that way. Even when I do go into town, I keep a low profile and stick to the essentials. Work, errands, and then back to the peaceful seclusion of my hidden sanctuary.
Even after all these years I still get some dirty looks from the locals. Mostly the older folks. They look at me like I’m tainted goods or judge me because of my brother and think I'm trouble just like him. I guess I don't really blame them.
We pull down the long dirt road leading to our house. Cole rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog.
