Page 17 of Thunder's Reckoning

DIDN’T SLEEP MUCH.

Somewhere between the half-empty bags and the look in that woman’s eyes, my head wouldn’t let it go. She hadn’t just broke down. Nah… she’d run. You could see it plain as day in her spine, stiff and straight like a steel rod, too proud to shake even when her hands were tremblin’.

And them kids? Hell.

That little girl barely let go of her leg. The boy — Malik, she’d said — stood there like a damn soldier. Nine years old, tops, already carryin’ more weight than most grown men. Sable couldn’t be more than nineteen, maybe twenty. Could be theywere hers, could be her kin. I’d seen young mothers before , came with the territory in the world I crawled out of when I was a kid.

Ain’t judgin’.

Damn it. There it was , the past diggin’ itself up where I’d buried it. Guess I didn’t bury it near deep enough. I shoved it back down with a mental shovel, packin’ the dirt tight ‘til it couldn’t breathe.

I decided to head to The Pit. Wouldn’t be much to do this early, but I felt a need to check on Sable and the kids.

Stopped off at the diner on my way. Had the cook box up scrambled eggs, toast, grits, few strips of bacon. Grabbed chocolate milk for the kids, black coffee for her.

Old house was still quiet when I pulled up. Climbed the back steps slow, balancin’ the takeout tray, and knocked with the side of my fist.

Nothin’.

Knocked again. “It’s just me — Zeke.”

Few seconds later, door cracked open. One dark eye peeked through, wide and wary.

Malik.

Kid didn’t say a word, just looked up at me like he was runnin’ a background check in his head, tryin’ to figure if I was trouble.

Smart kid.

“Brought y’all somethin’ to eat,” I said, holdin’ up the tray.

He hesitated, then swung the door wider, just enough for me to step inside.

Place was half-furnished, but they’d be comfortable enough, Zara was curled on the couch, bear clutched tight, half-asleep. Sable sat cross-legged on the floor beside her, hair a little wild, eyes red like she’d been fightin’ sleep same as me.

She looked up when she saw me. Not startled. Just plain worn out.

“Figured y’all could use breakfast,” I said, settin’ the tray on the little table by the window.

“Thank you,” she replied softly.

I Didn’t press her with questions burnin’ on my tongue. Just handed Malik a bottle of chocolate milk.

He didn’t take it right off. “You didn’t put anything weird in it, did you?” he asked, straight-faced.

I blinked. “What the hell?”

“Malik—” she started, sittin’ up straighter.

“No,” I cut in, before she could scold him. “Strange damn question, kid. You always ask stuff like that?”

He gave a small nod, no apology in it. Took the bottle and drank like he was still weighin’ me up.

“Zara still tired?” I asked, startin’ to figure there was a helluva lot more goin’ on than I knew.

Sable nodded. “Yes, she was exhausted.”

I was curious as all get out, but it wasn’t my business —least not yet— so I changed the subject.