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“We can't stay here long,” I said as I locked the door behind us. “But it'll be fine for now.”

“It's not like you're really giving me a choice,” she responded as she stepped into the living room and looked around. Her eyes took in everything. The paintings. The furniture. The large area rug. The busts of animals pinned to the walls. “You kill all these?” she asked.

“Some of them, but not all. My father killed some, too.”

“Hunting runs in your family. I guess we can't choose what gets passed down to us.”

“You could say that I inherited it from him. I'm not ashamed of that. My father was a good man.”

“Yeah, I'm sure every therapist would agree with that, too. A father who trained his son to kill should be given the Father of the Year award.” She stood beneath the bust of a stuffed deer and softly petted its fur. “Sixteen points on this one.”

“You hunt?”

“Not exactly. I did a lot of reading as a child.” Her fingers moved slowly over the fur, caressing the buck as if he could feel her touch. “Who killed this one?”

“I did.”

Poppy let out a chuckle as her hand dropped lifelessly to her side. “I bet you enjoyed it, too. Like the first sip of liquor to a home-bred alcoholic.”

“To be honest, no. I didn't enjoy it at all.”

“Bullshit.” She cocked her head and peered at me. “I don't believe that for one second.”

“It's true. I was only ten when I shot him,” I said as I stepped to her side. I looked up at the buck and touched his nose. “I washunting wild turkey, not deer. This guy—” I slapped the side of his snout. “This guy charged me. I didn't see him until it was almost too late. I got lucky.”

“I wonder how much luck I have. It doesn't seem to be much, honestly.” Her eyes fluttered to mine briefly before going back to exploring.

Poppy moved from one bust to the next. She wanted to know who and how it was killed. The buck was the only unintentional death in the room. My father took that kill as an opportunity to teach me, to show me that beauty can be dangerous. He taught me that without death, there would be no life.

My father showed me how our family relied on death to survive. But my father and I looked at the world through a different lens. He killed, and it didn't matter who you were or what you did. I couldn't do that. I couldn't just kill so callously. Not that there hadn't been unintended casualties here and there. It came with the job. You can be careful, plan ahead, and plot every single scenario, but nothing is definitive. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it went as planned. Yet, that one percent couldn't be avoided.

“It's cold in here,” she said.

“I'll build up the fire more.”

“Let me get this straight, you're obviously a wealthy man. There's electricity but no heat?”

“There's solar panels and a fireplace. I like to stay off the radar.”

“I wonder why.”

“Sit down. I'll have it warmed up in here in a few minutes.” I walked to the fireplace and started to add fresh logs. “You can use that blanket if you want to cover up.”

Poppy tucked her feet beneath her and wrapped herself in the blanket. “How long are you keeping me here?”

“I don't know,” I answered. “As long as it takes, I guess. The longer you're with me, the longer I can keep you alive.”

“I'm so confused.” Poppy snuggled into the blanket, her eyes sternly fixed on mine. “I don't know what to think anymore.”

“How about you just listen for now? Can you do that?” She thinned her lips and nodded. “You have to stay with me. Being with me is the safest thing for you, but being with me doesn't make you safe. I did something I wasn't supposed to, and people are going to come looking for me. Those same people are already looking for you, too.”

“What people?”

The fire began to crackle and pop as I poked the red embers. When there was a steady flame, I went to the couch and sat next to her. “Poppy, you're not ready to hear the truth. I know you think you are, but you're not. For now, you just have to trust me.” I reached out and touched her cheek.

Her eyes were studying me. I was screaming inside for her to see me as the man I was and not the monster she imagined. I wanted her to look into my soul and see the light, not the darkness.

“Trust me, Poppy,” I said as I held her face. “I'll explain everything when I know you're ready to hear it.”