Page 12

AURELIA

A fter showing me where everything is in the kitchen, Khalil gives me a tour of the rest of the cabin. I learned that it’s mainly powered by solar, with wind as backup, although they don’t seem to have much need for electricity.

There’s not a single TV, phone, radio, or computer anywhere.

The most modern appliance they have is the coffee machine.

They have books, though.

Lots and lots of books.

There’s at least one on every subject. I even find a few well-worn romances hidden among survivalist manuals, cookbooks, and murder mysteries like they’re ashamed of it.

I smirk at the idea of me finding their porn stash as I follow him into the living room.

Khalil absently points out the unused loft above the living room. The tip of the A-frame window serves as the back wall of the loft and overlooks the vast wilds for miles and miles. The only way up is to climb the smaller bookshelf built into the wall near it.

It’s not a bad corner to stick a new pet in—it even has a view—but Khalil doesn’t let me go up when I ask if I can see it.

Instead, he takes me out onto the cabin’s upper deck overlooking the cliff. It looks newer and less weathered than the one Thorin imprisoned me on. I asked Khalil about it, and he told me they added it last summer. It was a project born out of boredom.

“So, you guys built this cabin yourselves?” I ask before I realize he’s taking me back down to the basement.

I’m slower to follow this time, and he snaps at me again.

Luckily, we don’t linger in the den.

He leads me through another door I hadn’t noticed when I broke in and flicks on the light before taking me down another set of stairs. Immediately, I notice it’s much cooler down here. I follow Khalil down the dark tunnel, and he turns on another light at the end.

There are shelves, but unlike the pantry, they’re mostly empty. There are a few jars with pickled carrots, peppers, beets, and squash and a basket of potatoes on the ground in the corner.

“At first, we only built one room,” Khalil says out of nowhere, and I frown in confusion until I remember my unanswered question. “For years, we had no more than five hundred square feet to share between the three of us. Five, if you count Zeke and Bane.”

“Who are Zeke and Bane?”

Khalil ignores me and picks up a whole carrot from the bunch, inspects it, and then sets it back down on one of the racks. “Getting materials up here without drawing too much attention was a real pain in the ass. The three of us used to sleep on cots, shit in a hole, and fumble around in the dark, trying not to invade each other’s space too much. It took two years before we realized that no one was looking for us or cared that we were up here, so we got comfortable. Expanded over the years. Modernized as much as we could. Made a life.”

“If you can call this living,” I mutter under my breath.

Khalil hears me anyway.

I brace myself for a fight, but he just tosses back, “Why do you think we’re keeping you?” as he passes me.

“You can’t just keep me, Khalil.” I stomp up the stairs behind him as we leave the root cellar and return to the den. “Search and rescue will find me. I bet they’re looking for me right now. Once they do, it’s over for you.”

“Uh-huh.” His dismissive agreement is all he says as we travel through the den. I glare at his back as I reluctantly follow him back up to the first floor. Why isn’t he more worried that I’ll escape or be found? His complete calm is having the opposite effect on me.

Khalil takes me out on the front porch, but no further since I’m not wearing shoes, and my only clothing is this flannel. I try not to fixate on the reminder that I’m not wearing anything underneath.

It’s cold as hell, and I start shivering immediately.

I don’t notice that I’m shuffling and huddling toward the closest heat source until I feel warm skin brushing against mine, and then I realize that source is Khalil. He doesn’t look too happy about my proximity, either. In fact, he’s even more tense, as if I’m the one holding him hostage.

Outside, it looked as if another ten feet of snow had fallen while I was out of it. The sky is clear now, and even though it’s day, I can see the moon—or at least the half that’s visible—so it must be later than I thought. I hear the sounds of nature all around us. The views from this high up should be stunning, but all I see is my prison.

Khalil points out a much larger cache of wooden logs a few feet away and another shed where he tells me they process and cure the meat from their kills. He then tells me Thorin does most of the hunting.

“What’s that?”

Khalil follows my finger to the four wooden boards no more than two feet high. It forms a square, but I can’t tell what it’s meant for with all the snow covering the ground.

“Garden bed,” Khalil answers with a displeased grunt. I’m wondering if he’s annoyed with me for asking when he adds, “I tried my hand at growing our own produce a few times, but I wasn’t blessed with a green thumb.”

Huh.

Apparently, my observation skills are shitty because I hadn’t noticed it when I first arrived.

I choose to blame my three days lost in the wilds.

Staring at the small abandoned garden, I ask, “If you don’t grow your own produce, how did you get those vegetables in the cellar?”

Khalil’s expression pinches when he realizes he’s shared too much once again.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, biting back a victorious smile while smugly bringing my vigilance skills up from a solid four to five and a quarter.

“Thorin is good at killing shit, and I’m good with my hands,” Khalil says tightly. “We sometimes trade his game and my woodwork for supplies we can’t grow or make on our own. It’s how we paid for a lot of what you see inside. The furniture, housewares, everything.”

“With who?”

Khalil’s eyes darkening is my only warning before he crowds me against the porch railing and cages me in with both hands gripping the wood on either side of my hips. He doesn’t touch me, though. Thank God.

“No one comes up here, Aurelia. Stop thinking you’re going to be rescued and start focusing on how to be happy here.”

I snort at his lunacy. “Pass.”

“You’re a bitch. You know that?”

My hands ball into fists at my side. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

“No?”

I shake my head, but my next breath stutters out of me when his hands leave the railing and skim the outside of my thighs. They stop right below the shirt I’m wearing.

Whose shirt I’m wearing shouldn’t even matter, but it does. The flannel still smells like them—warm, spicy, and woodsy, with only a touch of sweetness that you have to really dig deep to reach. It smells like cardamom.

My visceral reaction to the scent pokes at my confused brain and mocks my insistence that I hate the bearer of this flannel. Whoever he is.

“You ever think that if you would just stop running your mouth, we’ll be nicer?”

“I don’t give a shit about you being nice to me, asshole. I want you to hand me a radio and then disappear forever.”

Without warning, Khalil presses his lips against mine, and I let out a surprised sound as his hands travel up the cursed flannel. My hands rise to his strong chest to push him away, but I end up gripping his muscle shirt instead. Simultaneously, he takes my naked ass in his callused palms. The rough pads of his fingers scraping against my soft skin feel like heaven.

I’m not thinking about the fact that my naked ass is exposed to the clearing for anyone to see when he pulls back long enough to say, “Just so we’re clear, I don’t give a shit what you want.” He resumes the kiss before I can respond.

We’re still kissing when I murmur, “Said every abusive asshole ever.”

Khalil’s grip on my ass tightens, his fingers wandering dangerously close to the arousal building between my thighs. “You think we’re abusing you, Goldilocks?

“You sure as hell aren’t romancing me, asshole.”

I’m rising onto the tips of my toes to reach his lips better when he utters between kisses, “Well, I think you like the way we treat you.”

“ Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Khalil slaps my ass hard, and I yelp from the sting while he backs away from me to open the front door, holding it for me to step through. I glare at him for a long time, but he doesn’t say a word. The bastard knows his silence will taunt me much more effectively than his words ever will.

Grumbling to myself, I storm past him and into the cabin with the knowledge that he’s watching me with no shortage of smug male satisfaction. It’s not until the front door slams shut behind him, closing off the biting cold on the other side, that it hits me.

I didn’t try to run.

Freedom was right there, and I just…climbed back into my cage like an idiot .

I don’t even flinch when Khalil places a hand on my lower back. He takes me back down into the basement and into the room right off the stairs. It’s next to the destroyed bedroom that Khalil tells me belongs to Seth. That tracks.

There are several jumbo metal bins stacked underneath the white plastic farmhouse sink with a spigot. What looks like a metal toilet plunger is leaning against the wall next to it, along with a large wooden paddle with grooves down the length and a short handle. Tossed over the wire hanging in the middle of the room like a clothesline is my dress—clean now but still torn.

Khalil grabs a clean towel and washcloth from the floating shelves after pointing out the pile of dirty laundry waiting to be washed.

“Why are you showing me all of this?” I finally ask him. This whole morning has been one long, confusing mess of don’t-give-a-fuck.

“Starting today , this is the shit you’ll need to know in order to earn your keep. Make us happy, and we’ll reward you. Piss us off, and we’ll punish you. It’s simple.”

“Simple?” I echo calmly despite the shiver working its way down my spine. “Right. How?”

Khalil steps closer until I’m forced to tip my head back to keep eye contact. Leaning down until the tips of our noses touch, he rumbles, “Fuck around and find out, Aurelia.”

Khalil’s warning feels like a promise. It chills my bones and warms my belly at the same time. All the more reason to get out of here before I lose myself completely.

My skin pebbles with goose bumps, and I don’t realize I’ve lowered my gaze until Khalil hooks a finger under my chin and gently forces my eyes back on him. He doesn’t bother issuing more threats once he sees the submission in my eyes. He just pushes me out of the closet and into the bathroom on the other side of the stairs.

“I thought you might want to take a shower,” he announces after setting the linen on the sink. “Extra toothbrushes are in the top drawer. That ridiculous dress of yours should be dry by now. I’ll leave it on the bed before I go.”

“Go?” I gulp. “Where are you going?”

“I showed you where everything is,” he says, ignoring my question. “There’s meat already thawing in the fridge. You should have no problem getting dinner started. We’ll be home by the time the sun touches the horizon. Don’t leave the cabin.”

Khalil’s gone, shutting the bathroom door behind him before I can even get a word out. For a while, I just stood there processing the last half hour until I heard the front door slam closed five minutes later.

He left.

Khalil actually left me alone as if I haven’t proven more than once that I’m a definite flight risk.

Running out of the bathroom and up the basement stairs, I make it to the kitchen window overlooking the clearing in time to see Khalil step over the boundary of their property and disappear through the trees. He’s covered from head to toe now in a yellow and black snowsuit, telling me he really does plan to be gone for a while.

Still, I wait a few minutes more, scanning the tree line to make sure he hasn’t forgotten something or this isn’t a trap. The three of them could be lying in wait to see if I’ll run so they have an excuse to punish me.

After ten minutes, I head to the front door and take a deep breath before I turn the knob.

I fully expected it to be padlocked with thick chains and booby traps because it’s the only thing that makes sense, but no.

The blast of cold air when the door actually opens is almost as shocking as finding out that I hadn’t been locked in.

Immediately, my mind begins to race, trying to hastily form a plan of escape amongst the chaos of warning bells and the sole question echoing in the background.

Why should they lock me in?

I remember every moment of my ordeal before I saw the smoke from the cabin curling above the trees. I only made it this far because of Tyler. I won’t be so lucky on my own, and based on how thin the air feels, it’s an even longer way down the mountain.

My only hope is to wait for the cavalry.

I have this fleeting, insane thought that I could get myself down before I dismiss it as lunacy.

I have no supplies, zero sense of direction, and I still haven’t fully recovered from my last walk through the woods.

Heart in my throat, I slowly shut the door.

It’s a few more minutes before I can bring myself to walk away from it—my autonomy, my freedom, and my certain death if I leave this prison a moment too soon.

A yawn and the exhaustion that accompanies it take over my thoughts. I’ve been asleep for days, yet I feel like I could sleep for a few more.

I think about going back downstairs since Khalil’s bed is the most comfortable, but the idea of going back into the basement doesn’t thrill me, so I eye the cracked door to Thorin’s room.

I know Khalil left me a list of demands that I should probably get started on since the days are shorter in the winter, but I have no intention of becoming their twisted version of a housewife.

I choose the nap.

The bears follow me into my dreams, turning them into nightmares.

No matter how hard I run, they catch me. They hold me down and use me. They make me theirs. Sometimes, they let me get away just so it can start all over again. Each time, they take a little more until it’s me gladly handing over the tarnished pieces of my soul for them to devour.

That’s the most twisted part—that I don’t fight all that hard.

It’s my shame, my burden to bear.

Their faces are shielded by animalistic masks with gaping maws that reveal their devastatingly gorgeous faces.

They’re not monsters, or demons, or bears. They’re so much worse.

They’re men—virile, deviant, lonely, and wild. They’re free of the societal bonds that demand they behave honorably.

And I know who they are.

I wander hopelessly inside my own mind for what feels like days, searching for their names. Eventually, the darkest depths of my soul answers with a possession that feels perverse.

Thorin—domineering, grumpy, suspicious, and malevolent.

Khalil—passionate, vain, violent, and selfish.

I hesitated about the final name, not because I didn’t remember it but because it felt wrong.

No, not wrong. Incomplete.

It feels like one side of a mangled coin. I force my mind to speak it anyway, knowing it’s the key to my freedom.

Seth—mischievous, obsessive, gullible, and tormented.

It’s not my first time dreaming about them, but it is the first time they speak to me.

I strain to hear, but I can’t make out the angry words. The three of them are standing over me, but they might as well be on the moon. When they start to circle me too fast to tell where the attack is coming from, I try to run away again, only to realize my foot is stuck in a metal mouth with sharp teeth and an unforgiving grip.

Bear trap.

Every yank and tug at my ankle makes the trap dig its teeth in deeper, and I instinctively know that it will tear me apart before it lets me go. I hear what sounds like the crack of thunder and feel the ground trembling as if it’s about to split apart just before Tyler’s voice rises in my mind, screaming at me to run before he’s swept up in the frozen tidal wave.

The bear trap springs open, and I’m up on my feet, sprinting away from the massive wall of snow hurtling toward me. I’m much too slow, though, and I scream as I get swept up by the avalanche.

Instead of being buried alive, I’m falling, plunging through the starry night sky. Burning debris from my plane rains down around me like meteorites until I crash through the frozen surface of a lake that pulls me deeper and deeper into its depths—

“Wake the fuck up!”

The freezing water sinks into my bones, and my eyes fly open with a gasp.

It takes a second longer to realize I’m not trapped under the ice of a frozen lake. I’m not drowning or even dreaming anymore.

I’m in a bedroom, and I’m not alone.

There are three fuming shadows standing over me in the dark, depressing room.

Thorin’s expression is by far the most vicious as he holds an empty tin cup upside down that I’m guessing was filled with the cold water now soaking through my thick flannel.

Sitting up, I huff and swipe an angry hand over my face, which is also dripping water. “Was that necessary?” I shout.