Page 6 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

Crash.

A clatter of what sounded like glass breaking from somewhere in the small cabin jolted me upright in bed. Strands of my silvery hair fell into my face as my head whirled toward the door, and a moment later, Rusty mumbled a curse in his gruff voice.

Shoving my hair out of the way, I scooted to the edge of the lumpy bed, stretching the kinks out of my back and neck. Definitely not the best sleep of my life, that was for freaking sure.

I made quick use of the bathroom, mostly because I didn’t have anything to do my normal hygiene routine. No toothbrush. No toothpaste. No hairbrush. No face wash. Nada.

Rusty was crouched on the floor, sweeping up broken glass into a makeshift dustpan when I emerged from the hallway. He glanced up, sensing my presence. “Everything okay?” I asked, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“Just being my normal, clumsy oaf,” he retorted, scooping up the last few bits of glass before standing up. “Did you sleep okay?” he asked, keeping his voice light as if it would make this situation any less weird.

I tried to recall how many times I’d ever been alone with him. Other than a few times when I was little and he used to watch me at the shop, I couldn’t think of anything in recent years. I shrugged. “I haven’t been sleeping well since…”

“You don’t have to say. It’s been rough. Probably really hard for you.” He let out a heavy sigh, dumping the glass into the trash before facing me again. “I’m sorry about what happened, for not being able to save your parents. If I had known…”

“How could you have?”

“It’s a guilt I’ll carry with me forever.”

My lips turned down. “My dad wouldn’t want that.”

Setting the broom aside, he leaned against the counter. “He also wouldn’t have wanted his little girl in the clutches of his enemy. I should have done a better job finding you sooner.”

“You found me. That’s enough. You lost him too.” It felt so good to talk about my parents with someone who knew them, with someone who loved them. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this, not to forget about them.

Rusty swallowed before pushing off the counter. “Sit. I made some coffee. You’re probably starved.”

I sat curled up in the oversized chair, a knit blanket pulled around my legs as Rusty set a steaming mug of coffee on the side table beside me.

“Sorry, it’s not Starbucks,” he said, placing a box of doughnuts down next. “Best I could do on short notice. I’m not exactly Gordon Ramsay.”

I offered a small, flat smile. “It’s fine. Thank you.”

He hovered for a second longer, hands in his pockets like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he gave a nod and stepped back toward the kitchen.

The coffee smelled like burnt hazelnut, and the doughnuts were slightly stale, but none of that mattered. Nothing did because everything I thought I knew was a lie.

My fingers trembled as I wrapped them around the warm mug, trying to ground myself, find my bearings, but it didn’t work. I was still floating, untethered and raw.

Donovan hadn’t just altered my parents’ will; he’d orchestrated their deaths. For revenge. A long, meticulous plan that ended with them dead and him sitting like a king on a throne built from the ashes of my life, and I had nothing. No clothes. No room to call mine.

The blanket suddenly felt suffocating. I kicked it off and stood up too fast, the room tilting slightly as the pressure of it all bore down again.

Rusty turned from the sink. “Kaylor?”

“I don’t have a home.” My voice cracked. “I don’t have anything, Rusty. Not even a goddamn pair of socks to my name.”

He moved but kept a careful distance. “You have people who care about you. We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone.”

“But I am.” I choked out a tart laugh. “I don’t even know what to do next. My whole future just…collapsed. It’s hard to think about tomorrow when today is already unbearable.”

He nodded slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know it’s bleak right now. I know it’s not what you need, but the cabin’s safe. It’s yours for as long as you want it. I’ll stock the kitchen later. And I’ll make some calls. Try to find someone, anyone who might help.”

I blinked back the tears forming again. I was so tired of crying. “You don’t have to fix this,” I murmured. “I’m not you’re burden.”

“You could never be a burden.” Rusty gave me a sad smile.

The coffee had gone cold, the doughnuts untouched.

There wasn’t much to do in the cabin. I contemplated going for a walk to clear my head, but I didn’t know anything about the area, and it would be just my luck I’d end up lost. Not to mention, the temps had dropped overnight to a bitter cold that took my breath away.

It was an easy decision to stay cozied up in the chair, especially after Rusty started a fire.

I must have dozed off, because when I woke, the cabin seemed dimmer than before.

Pushing the blanket off my legs, I listened, wondering where Rusty was.

Silence greeted me. No footsteps. No low murmurs from another room.

Even the fire had fizzled out, leaving nothing but ash in the burner.

I swung my legs to the floor, rubbing at my arms as a chill settled over me.

Stepping cautiously into the kitchen, my stomach twisted when I looked out the window, seeing at least another inch of snow blanketing the ground, but more importantly, Rusty’s truck was gone.

No note. No explanation.

Okay, where the hell did he go? Nothing like dropping me off in the middle of nowhere and then dipping.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten yet today.

Abandoning my seat at the table, I went on the hunt for fuel.

At least Rusty hadn’t just dumped me here to fend for myself.

I tried to imagine myself foraging in the woods for berries.

It was laughable. I lacked actual survival skills.

Unless there was a Black Friday sale at Prada, the only survival instincts I had were emotional trauma shit.

Since I didn’t have it in me to make anything complicated, I opted for the quickest option. I obviously could handle toast. Right? How hard could it be?

It took me longer than I was willing to admit to finagle the toaster, but I could reheat coffee like a pro if this place had a microwave, which, of course, it didn’t.

I’d been here for less than twenty-four hours, and I already missed my life and all the things I took for granted, like having a fully stocked fridge and pantry at my disposal any time of the day.

I wasn’t going to last a day here. Something about being alone and isolated in a strange place set me on edge, and cold coffee alone wasn’t going to be enough to calm me.

Opening the freezer, I improvised, pulling out a tray of ice and popping a handful of cubes into my coffee. While I waited for my toast, I sat at the kitchen table, staring out into the endless stretch of trees.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

Process what happened and what I learned?

Yeah, I sure as hell didn’t want to do that.

I could hardly believe last night was real, and shoving all the feelings inside a nice little compartmentalized box somewhere in the dark crevice of my brain seemed so much healthier than dealing with it.

I was fucking tired of crying. My eyes couldn’t handle any more, puffy and bloodshot as they were.

Sipping on the iced coffee, I winced at the bitterness. What I wouldn’t do for some sugar and cream.

The harshness of my situation settled deep in my bones, whether I wanted it there or not. Controlling my brain wasn’t as easy as snapping my fingers.

The betrayal. The fucking stupidity of it all. How could I have been so foolish?

My chest ached, a slow burn of anger and something else.

Something I wasn’t ready to name. I had started to trust Kreed.

Not just tolerate him but trust him. And Mason and Maddox, too, at least a little.

But not like Kreed. No, he was different.

I thought I saw another side to him. Was that all part of his persona?

Was any of it real? God, I’d fucking slept with him!

He didn’t just make me trust him. He made me want him, and that was the most dangerous part because I had started to believe the lies wrapped in skilled hands and stolen glances, in the quiet moments when he wasn’t a Corvo and I wasn’t the girl his father stole.

I had started to think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as I thought.

That he was on my side. How fucking foolish.

Kreed was the bad guy. Well, relatively speaking, considering my father had apparently been one, too.

That realization cracked deep and jagged inside me.

If I couldn’t trust Kreed and I couldn’t trust my father’s memory, then who the hell could I trust?

The answer curdled in my gut. No one. Not anymore.

The toaster popped.

I jumped, the sound yanking me out of my rabbit hole. “Screw this,” I murmured. I couldn’t stay here. The cabin felt too small, too cut off, like I’d been stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but my thoughts. And my thoughts were the last thing I wanted company with.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed the only person I still trusted.

Brock answered on the third ring. “Kay?”

“Hey.” My voice came out hoarse, but I tried to steady it.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Brock rattled off. I could picture his pinched, dark brows. “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night.”

My fingers dug into the side of my head as my elbow braced against the table. “No.”

“Are you hurt?”

My lip trembled. I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me. “No.”

“Did Kreed do something?” he demanded, nothing friendly in his tone.

I let out a hollow laugh. “Depends on your definition of something.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“I don’t want him dead. There’s been enough death.”

A pause. Then, softer, he asked, “What do you need?”

“Can you come get me?”

“Where are you? At the house?” he replied without any hesitation.

He meant Kreed’s house, an obvious assumption since he didn’t know what happened last night. “A cabin. I don’t—” I exhaled. “I don’t know where I am,” I admitted, hating how weak I sounded. “Somewhere in the woods.”

“Stay put. I’ll get Fynn to track this number.

Keep your phone on.” The shit my cousin and his friends could do still baffled me.

I could barely make toast and coffee. At my age, they had reputations that stretched beyond high school.

“I’m on my way,” he assured, and through the phone, I could hear him moving, already in motion.

“Brock?” I hesitated. “Does your offer still stand?”

A series of dings came through the line that sounded like a car door opening. “To stay at my house?”

“Yeah.”

“Always.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay. See you soon.”

As I hung up, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

I didn’t know what the next move was, but at least I would be somewhere familiar and with civilization and within reach of DoorDash.

Brock’s house, however, wasn’t a very inconspicuous location.

It was a risk. Kreed or Donovan could easily find me, but I was banking on my cousin having something up his sleeve to keep me hidden.

He was good for shit like that.

Now I just had to wait and figure out what I planned to tell Rusty. He’d gone out of his way to drive me here last night, give me a safe haven, and I ran the first chance I got.

Some habits died hard.

Each minute that ticked by felt like an hour. I couldn’t decide if the anxiety in my stomach was because I didn’t want Rusty to come back or if I did. Regardless, I sucked at waiting. It gave my brain too much free range.

With nothing else to do, I scrolled through my phone, searching but telling myself I wasn’t looking for his name. I should block his number and delete him from my phone, but as I stared at Kreed’s contact, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.