Page 49 of Feral Darlings

Boone

The heavy, wooden double-doors creak as they swing open. The sound of dust being kicked up by the tips of heavy boots follows before they slam closed again.

It ’ s the lower hours of the night, which means that Mollie ’ s Moonlight Saloon is about to come alive with drinking and dancing, among other debaucheries.

I sit at my usual table in the darkest corner of the place, my body slouched on the wooden stool that I choose to call home during these moments. A small glass of bourbon sits on the table in front of me, my left hand gripping it like a vice.

As the sheriff of this town, it ’ s my job to keep the order around here, but I haven ’ t felt any of that in a long time.

Not since they took her from me.

I close my eyes and grind my teeth together as memories of her come flooding back to me.

I loved her.

I loved her the way the moonlight loves the ocean: in gentle caresses that ripple the surface. In the bitter dark, where no one would have been able to see us, where our secret was kept safe, and no one should have been able to tear us apart.

A tired sigh escapes me as I open my eyes and look at the glass in my hand. Do I want to do this to myself? What kind of pain would whiskey numb if I can’t really feel anything at all anymore?

With a shake of my head, I shoot the drink back, slam the glass on the table as the patrons here are known to do, and then glance toward the crowd slowly starting to gather on the dance floor.

I know what comes next, and it ’ s when I should do my job and ensure the safety of everyone here. But when it was their turn to ensure hers, they turned their backs and continued on with their indulgences, ignoring her screams for help.

And in the coming days and nights, I ’ m going to repay the favor.