Page 22 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

I should tell him I was fine, to stop touching me, and demand he leave.

Having Kreed in my room late at night was never a good idea, but I didn’t want him to go.

And I definitely didn’t want him to stop touching me, not when every cell in my body came alive, despite that voice of reason inside me screaming bad idea , but none of them were louder than the silence lingering after a nightmare.

None of them drowned out the shaking in my chest or the way my skin still crawled with old ghosts as Kreed did.

He banished the nightmares. Perhaps it was that his darkness overtook mine, blanketing me in his chaos, fierce, consuming, and strangely safe.

He sat on the bed, barefoot, hoodie rumpled, hair a wild mess as if he’d run his hands through it a hundred times tonight. He looked at me, waiting to see if I would tell him to get out, but it took one glance into his silver eyes to know I wouldn’t.

I didn’t want to be alone even if it meant having the company of the enemy. “What’s keeping you up at night?” I asked, breaking the silence before it could swallow us whole.

His shoulders lifted in a faint shrug, but his gaze stayed locked on mine as his hand fell from my face. “You. My mom. My dad. Crew shit.”

I sat up slowly, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, refusing to admit how much I missed his touch.

“Tell me about her.” Talking was far safer than silence.

I didn’t know much about the woman who gave birth to Donovan’s children, and I wanted to know more about his mom and why they rarely spoke of her.

He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he’d shut down like he always did when things got too real, but his voice broke through the quiet. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re comfortable sharing.” I couldn’t help but be curious about her. I hadn’t noticed a single photo of her in the house, only what I’d seen online. She’d been beautiful, passing most of her stunning looks to Kreed, the eyes, the onyx hair, and the strong chin.

“She was everything. Light, warmth…soft in all the places this world is hard. She loved music, used to sing around the house when she thought no one was listening. And she had this laugh. God, you would’ve liked her laugh. It filled up a room. She would have adored you.”

I didn’t say anything. Just let him talk, the charge of his words filling in the space between us, like they carried more than memories.

“My dad…he didn’t deserve her,” he continued.

“He broke her down piece by piece. She was an accomplishment, having a beautiful woman on his arm as his wife. I was the one who found her.” His voice cracked then, just barely.

“Laid out on the floor like she didn’t matter.

She did. She mattered more than anything. ”

My throat burned. “I know that feeling,” I whispered.

“Seeing them go. Wanting to stop it and not being able to do a damn thing.” Was this what Raine had alluded to?

We’d both been there when people we loved passed on?

I sensed there was more to the story, but I didn’t push.

I could see what it cost him to open up this much.

He looked at me then, really looked, as if he saw every broken piece of me and wasn’t scared of the mess.

“We never talk about her. It hurts too much. And the more time that passed without speaking her name, the easier it got, but doing so feels like we’re forgetting her, and I don’t want that.

It’s a loneliness that never leaves,” he said softly. “It carves a hole inside you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “It does.”

We sat like that for a while, two kids shaped by grief, haunted by memories we couldn’t undo, and for once, it didn’t feel unbearable.

It just felt…understood.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The shrill scream of the security alarm shattered the quiet. My body jolted upright, heart in my throat, every hair on my body rising as fear sank its claws in. The sound was so sudden, so violent, that it took me a second to process what it even was, but it was the why that caused ribbons of fear.

Someone had triggered the alarm.

Someone was outside.

Someone was trying to break in.

My eyes widened, immediately flying to Kreed, who was already moving. One second, he was beside me, and the next, he was on his feet, every muscle in his body coiled, his expression unreadable except for the flash of something deadly in his eyes.

Danger.

“What the fuck—” he growled, then turned to me. “Are you expecting anyone?”

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head as I scooted to the edge of the bed. “No one.” Hell, I wasn’t even expecting him, but it hadn’t stopped Kreed from getting inside.

His gaze darkened. “Stay here.”

“Like hell.” I scrambled out of bed, not even trying to hide the panic in my voice. “You’re not leaving me alone to get hacked to pieces. I’m coming with you.”

His hesitation was brief, but it was there, yet he reached for my hand, interlocking our fingers. “You’ve seen too many horror movies.”

“Maybe, but I’ve also seen real-life horrors,” I whispered, staying close as he turned toward the door.

We crept down the stairs, not bothering with the lights, my fingers in his.

The house was pitch-black except for the faint red glow of the alarm panel blinking at the end of the hallway.

Every creak in the floorboard felt deafening.

I was practically glued to Kreed’s back, breathing shallow, trying to listen for any sound, footsteps, a window sliding open, or a breath that wasn’t mine.

Kreed stood still for a beat, shoulders tense, head tilted slightly like he was listening to something only he could hear.

He reached for the butcher block with precision, fingers closing around the biggest knife my cousin had.

The blade caught the pale moonlight bleeding in through the window, glinting silver as he turned it over once in his hand.

Without breaking stride, he moved toward the back door, his steps quiet and stealthy. His hand curled around the knob, but he paused, looking at me, eyes growing dark and stormy as they found mine. “Lock the door behind me,” he ordered.

My stomach clenched as I clung to his hand, refusing to let go. “What? No fucking way. Don’t go out there. It’s dark. You don’t know who’s out there. This is a bad idea.” Was I actually worried about him? The thought of Kreed hurt made me sick.

His jaw flexed, but his tone didn’t waver. “I need to make sure whoever set off the alarm is gone. If I don’t check, neither of us is sleeping, and as much as I like the idea of keeping you up all night, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”

I wanted to argue. I wanted to scream, but I could see in his eyes that he was going, no matter what I said.

I hated how calm he was. Like walking into danger was just another Tuesday for him.

Maybe it was. “I swear to God, Kreed Corvo,” I muttered, chest throbbing with dread as I unraveled my fingers from his, “if you get yourself murdered, I’ll never forgive you. ”

He turned to face me fully, one corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “It’s good to know that no matter how much you hate me, you still care.”

“It’s me I’m concerned about. If you die, what chance do I have?”

“If I’m not back in five minutes,” he said, holding my gaze, “call Raine.” He didn’t wait for my response. He just turned, yanked the door open, and disappeared into the night.

My fingers fumbled with the deadbolt, locking it with a hard click that felt final.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass pane, eyes straining into the darkness beyond the porch light.

My breath fogged the glass, shallow and fast. Somewhere out there, he was alone with only a knife and whatever anger he was running on.

Seconds dragged.

I counted my heartbeats just to fill the silence.

A shadow shifted along the fence line, and my pulse spiked. “Kreed?” I whispered even though he couldn’t hear me.

The figure stepped into the light, and a breath whooshed out of me. Kreed emerged from the side of the house, knife still in hand, his expression masked. He stepped up to the door, knocked once, and I unlocked it as fast as I could, pulling him inside.

“Well, you didn’t die,” I said, using sarcasm to cover up what was really happening inside of me.

He shook his head slowly. “No one out there to kill me, but I wish they had tried.”

I didn’t miss the tension still in his shoulders. “That’s messed up. Do you think it was a false alarm?”

“Could’ve been,” he said, but we both knew better. His eyes swept the hallway behind me, then met mine again. “Or someone wanted us to think that.”

Goose bumps raced up my arms. Whatever had just happened, one thing was clear. I was glad he was here, and I wasn’t letting him sleep on the couch tonight.

Gnawing on my lip, I led the way back through the house. The hall was dark, the only light coming from the sliver of moon filtering through the window at the end. Shadows stretched along the walls like quiet ghosts.

We reached my bedroom, and I hesitated in the doorway, hand hovering near the frame.

“Leave the door open,” I said softly, stepping inside.

The room smelled faintly like lavender and old pages, comforting.

I climbed into bed, the sheets cool against my skin, pulling the blanket up, but it did little to soothe the chill in my chest. I swallowed hard, hesitating again as I stared up at him.

Kreed lingered near the door, one hand braced against the frame like he was giving me a chance to change my mind.

“Will you stay?” I whispered. “Just for tonight?”

His eyes locked on to mine, and for a beat, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched me, reading between the cracks I couldn’t seal up fast enough.