Page 30 of Thunder's Reckoning

This wasn’t the compound.

A ceiling fan spun slow overhead. An old desk stood against the wall, books stacked haphazardly. A poster of a muscle car curled slightly at the edges. Somewhere, far off, music pulsed through the darkness.

Malik sat beside me, perched at the edge of the bed, one hand raised mid-air like he didn’t know whether to comfort me or let me breathe. His eyes were wide but calm, steady in the way he was taught to be.

“You were dreaming,” he said, his voice quiet, anchored in the now. “I heard you crying.”

I blinked hard, dragging myself out of the past. My throat burned like I’d swallowed glass. “I’m sorry,” I rasped, my voice frayed and hoarse.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Malik said. “Bad dreams happen.”

My hands trembled beneath the blanket. I kept them hidden. I didn’t want him to see how broken I still was. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push. He just sat there, small and still, like he knew sometimes silence was safer than words. A boy forced to grow up too fast. A ten-year-old with the soul of a survivor.

Eventually, he stood. Crossed the room to the door, before he stepped out, he glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not there anymore, Sable,” he said simply. “We got out.” Then he left, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

I sat in the silence, and for once, it didn’t feel so heavy.

Because he was right.

We got out.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MORNIN’ CARRIED THEscent of strong coffee andwhatever Josie had whipped up for breakfast, bacon, maybe biscuits drowned in gravy. Normally I’d grab a plate, let the grease settle into my bones, but not today. Walked right past the kitchen without stoppin’. Wasn’t in the mood for the noise, the laughter, that shallow chatter folks leaned on after a long night.

My head was still crowded with her.

Those eyes of hers, cuttin’ right through me the night before. Lookin’ at me like I was a man built from rusted parts, barely held together by bad choices and hollow promises.

The common room was mostly cleared out, quiet as a graveyard for a Sunday mornin’. Just a couple hangaroundssprawled on the couches, snorin’ like busted engines. Out front, Gearhead was already sittin’ astride his bike, starin’ off like he had somewhere important waitin’ on him. I gave him a nod as I passed and swung a leg over my Harley, a sea-blue beast that’d been with me longer than most folks I knew. She was the only thing that ever listened without judgment.

But even the road didn’t fix me this time.

Wind in my face, pipes roarin’ under me, it usually burned the mess clean. Not today. Breeze felt thick, pressin’ instead of carryin’. Every damn red light stretched itself out too long. Every mile dragged heavy, like the blacktop itself wanted me to turn back.

By the time I pulled up outside the house and killed the engine, my jaw was set tight, hands still grippin’ the bars like I could squeeze answers out of them.

Then I saw her.

She was sittin’ on the porch, knees pulled up, arms wrapped ‘round a worn book like it was the last thing tetherin’ her to this world. Morning light broke through the haze and spilled across her, turned her skin to gold, but it didn’t touch the shadow on her face.

She wasn’t readin’.

Hell, she wasn’t even here. Eyes wide open, but they were seein’ someplace else, someplace far darker than a quiet porch in South Carolina. I don’t think she even heard the engine of my Harley.

I stood there a minute, unnoticed. Watchin’.

There’d always been somethin’ graceful about the way she carried herself, still as stone, like she was carved outta silence. But today… today her shoulders were locked too tight. Color drained clean from her cheeks. Fingers clutchin’ that book so hard her knuckles bleached white.

I walked up slow, lettin’ my boots crunch the gravel so she’d hear me comin’. She didn’t lift her head.

“You alright?” I asked, keepin’ my voice low, careful, like one wrong word might break her clean in half.

“I’m fine,” she said quick, too damn quick. Voice sharp as frost.

“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” I murmured, easin’ down beside her. “I asked if you were alright.”

That pulled her gaze to me. Lord, I almost wished it hadn’t. There were hollows under her eyes, deep shadows that hadn’t been there before. Saw the tremble in her jaw, just for a second, before she forced it still.