Page 47 of Web of Lies

Riley

"Are you serious?" I ask, looking back and forth between Kyle and Evelyn, and then down at the clothes on the bed.

They're Evelyn's, for when she goes hunting with Noah.

It's a pair of black leggings, a fitted compression shirt, and a matching fleece jacket for the chilly morning air.

It's five a.m., and the sky outside is still a deep blue, slowly beginning to lighten with faint streaks of pink and orange painting the clouds.

Subtle droplets of morning dew gather along the edges of the window.

Kyle and I have been practicing target shooting for the past four days, and I've definitely improved. As a result last night, Kyle suggested we take the next step and go hunting. I agreed, assuming he would go with me, but as it turns out, I was wrong.

"If we all go, there'll be too much commotion," she says, hugging her fluffy robe close to her chest.

"That's true. The animals could hear us coming from a mile away," Kyle adds.

"So, you want me to go into the woods alone with Noah?

" I ask, studying them both. "Seriously?

Evelyn, please. Can't you go with me?" Anxiety eats away at my mind, and I wrap my arms around her shoulders, praying she'll change her mind.

Although I've gotten more used to being around Noah, I've never been alone with him, as there was always someone else in the room with us.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn says, wrapping her arms around my waist. "But he's the best hunter of all of us."

I turn to Kyle and purse my lips into a pout. "Really? Are you sure you're not better than he is?"

"She's right," Kyle says with a shrug. "He's always been better than I at that kind of stuff. I'm a man of encouraging words, while he's better at getting things done."

"Encouraging words, my ass," I say, earning a chuckle from both of them.

"But your clothes won't fit me," I say, turning to Evelyn and reaching for any excuse to buy myself at least another day to prepare mentally. "Let's just postpone it. We can go shopping, and I'll get something that actually fits."

Evelyn rolls her eyes at my attempt and draws me in closer. "You're half a head taller than me, sure. But trust me, they'll fit just fine."

"Are you ready?" Noah's deep voice carries through the room, interrupting our conversation. We all turn toward the doorway, where he stands in dark gray combat pants and a matching, form-fitting compression shirt that hugs his tall, athletic frame.

Evelyn doesn't try to hide her reaction.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her biting her lower lip.

She pulls her arms from around me, closes the distance between them in two steps, and presses her hands flat against his chest. Rising onto her toes, she leans in and whispers something into his ear.

Whatever it is, it clearly hits its mark.

Noah's eye widens, the dark pupil dilates, and his shoulders roll back as his posture straightens.

Kyle lets out a dramatic sigh from behind me. "It's five in the morning, Eve."

My eyes widen, and I nearly choke on my breath. "Kyle." I snap, turning to face him.

"What?" he says with a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah." Evelyn snorts and waves him off. Her cheeks flush a soft shade of red as she takes a step back and turns to face us.

Noah clears his throat, the husky sound cutting through the awkward silence.

"Ten minutes. Downstairs. Otherwise, I'll come get you," he says, his voice suddenly strict and commanding.

Not at all like the calm, quiet man I've gotten to know these last couple of days.

Until now, he had been the perfect host—reserved and respectful—and a perfect partner for Evelyn.

But now? It's as if someone flipped a switch.

My jaw slackens as I watch him turn and leave.

Evelyn shoots me an apologetic smile over her shoulder before chasing after him.

"What did he mean by that?" I ask, still reeling from Noah's comment.

"Either he's taking you hunting, no matter what you're wearing, or he's going to come back up here and play dress-up doll with you."

"You wouldn't let him." I shoot back, turning to face him with narrowed eyes, but all I get in return is a lazy shrug.

"If I wanted to, I could stop him." His lips twitch into a smirk. "But I have to admit, it would be entertaining to watch you try to fight him."

My stomach twists at the thought that he actually finds joy in my suffering.

"Why are you the way that you are?" I shoot him a glare, snatch the clothes off the bed, and storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

My hands move quickly, swapping the oversized band shirt I wear to sleep for Evelyn's clothes.

As I slide my limbs into them, they fit as if they were made for me.

With a heavy sigh, I turn to the mirror and examine my reflection looking back at me.

My eyes are heavy with sleep, with deep blue shadows underneath them.

I grab a hair tie from the counter and pull my messy hair into a high ponytail.

Then, my gaze locks onto my reflection in the mirror once more. Everything will be fine.

I climb out of the passenger seat of the truck and shut the door behind me.

The cool morning air brushes against my skin.

I pull up the zipper of my jacket and bury my face in the soft fabric of the collar.

It's late September, but it's already much colder than I expected.

Soft fog drifts across the mossy forest ground, and beads of dew shimmer on the surrounding trees and shrubs.

Whiskey darts past me, his tail held high, and his bright, neon-orange collar glowing as he circles the truck. After sniffing the air and the ground with excitement, he jogs toward the back. Following him, I find Noah adjusting the straps of his backpack and tightening the strap on his rifle.

"Are you ready?" he asks, stealing a quick glance at me as he shoulders his backpack and grabs the rifle.

"If I say no, will we go back?" I ask, half-joking, half-hoping that we would.

"No," he replies with a tired sigh. "Let's go."

The first rays of sunlight filter through the treetops as I fall in step behind him.

My gaze lands first on the pistol holstered at his hip and then on the hunting knife secured just below it.

He sets a steady pace and leads the way.

An awkward silence hangs between us, as if neither of us knows what to say.

The forest is silent, broken only by the sound of our footsteps crunching on leaves and splashing through patches of mud.

Meanwhile, Whiskey is trotting ahead, his tail wagging and the white tip swinging from left to right as he dives into the bushes to explore the area.

At least one of us is having the time of their life.

"How much farther from the car do we have to go?

" I groan in annoyance. My feet ache from walking across uneven ground.

Each rock and patch of mud pulls at my nerves.

Evelyn's boots help, sure, but they're not magic.

The thick mud clings to the leather as if trying to swallow my steps, and every movement feels heavier than it should.

With each squelch, my patience wears a little thinner.

I'm used to pavement, not this muddy mess that won't let me move at my pace.

"Be quiet or you'll spook the animals," Noah says in a low voice as he continues leading the way through the woods.

Eventually, we reach a small wooden blind surrounded by branches. Noah takes off his backpack and rifle and lays a tarp on the ground behind the blind. "Sit down." He nods toward the tarp, then squats down.

"Here? Why?" I ask, watching him while he sets everything up.

Without taking his eyes off the rifle, he points in front of him. Following his gesture, my gaze lands on a spacious clearing. "The deer move through here in the morning. The grass is covered in dew, so they'll stop to graze. You'll pick one out and take the shot."

"Hold on," I say, glancing between Noah and the clearing. "I thought I was just going to watch you hunt, and then try it another time."

Noah looks up at me, raising one brow. "No, you're going to shoot a deer. Today." He lets out a low sigh and sits down on the tarp.

I drop to my knees in front of him, my eyes fixed on his. "But—"

"I get it," he interrupts. "I'd prefer to shoot first, then let you take a turn," he says, shifting his position just as Whiskey runs up to him, panting softly.

He sits down beside him with a light thud.

"But the deer have been acting a bit off this season.

They don't linger like they used to. It depends on the day. "

"Okay," I sigh, my shoulders slumping in defeat. "But what if I can't do it?" My gaze drops to Whiskey, who has lain down and is now crawling toward me. I cup his head in my hands and ruffle his ears, finding comfort in the warmth of his fur.

"Then I'll take the shot, field-dress the deer, and we'll head home. We can always try again another day," Noah says calmly as he rummages through his backpack. "Did Kyle show you how to shoot a rifle?"

"Yes, but he made me shoot at cans in your backyard. Not moving targets."

"That's okay. What matters is that you know how to use it and overcome the idea of pulling the trigger on a living being." He says. "Coffee?"

At the mere mention of coffee, my gaze snaps up to him. My eyes widen and a broad smile spreads across my face when I see the thermos and two stainless steel cups in his hands. My saving grace. Despite knowing I had to get up at the crack of dawn, I had planned no time for it.

"Yes, please," I say as I take one cup before he pours the steaming black coffee into it. Without hesitation, I lift it to my lips, savoring the rich aroma as I take a slow sip. The warm, bitter brew slides down my throat, melting the pressure in my chest and washing away the tension in my muscles.