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The transformation during the full moon had been a chaotic blur of sensations. There was that terrifying instant in which her senses sharpened to a painful clarity—sights, sounds, smells, her blood flowing in her veins, the feeling of being invincible, the strength and speed roaming through her body like a tidal wave in a raging storm. Then there came the searing pain, the complete and overwhelming terror of losing herself, the anxiety of the unknown. After that… nothingness. Waking up had been even stranger. Laura’s eyes shot open to a sharp metallic taste that clung to the back of her throat, the bitter taste of copper on her tongue, and the oxide smell that coated her surroundings. She then realized that her mouth was stuffed with something, something alien and outside what she was expecting to feel once her consciousness was again capable of controlling her body—fabric, soft yet unyielding against her teeth. And something else. Something soft. Her lips wrapped around skin, muscle, and bone… and she had craved it. Until suddenly she didn’t. An arm. Laura drew back, releasing her grip an instant as she stared at the man in front of her in wide-eyed horror. Travis Hackett's face was shocked, a mask of the same horror mirrored back at her. She scrambled backward, heart pounding as her gaze flicked to what he was holding in his right hand. A broken shard of silver mirror hung from his hand, slick with fresh blood from the deep cut on his palm, as he was trying to hold onto it for dear life. The silence between them was thick, suffocating. His gaze roamed over her naked, blood-covered form, her face a mask of wariness. Travis sighed while rolling his eyes and dropped his weapon. The mirror shattered into a million pieces, creating a sound that broke the silence in the room. It was enough to remind Laura she owned a voice. "Uh, thanks for… not killing me," she murmured hesitantly. They both kept eye contact, too worried that looking somewhere else would break the thin peace that engulfed them. "Likewise." He replied with the same tone. A distress noise distracted them, Laura saw—with horror—how Ryan fell to the floor with a grunt, succumbing to his blood loss. The shotgun dropped to the floor a meter from them. Travis looked at it with passive intent, but Laura wasn't paying attention to that, jumping straight into doctor mode and grabbing Ryan's side with despair. Panic shot through her at the amount of blood he'd already lost. "He's bleeding out," Laura said desperately, the metallic sharpness of blood thick in the surrounding air. She looked back at Travis, worry in her eyes. "He needs a hospital, or he won't make it." Travis hesitated, wincing from his own injuries, before opening his mouth to speak. But before he could respond, the door beside him flew open suddenly. Jedidiah Hackett burst in; before anyone could do anything, he seized the shotgun that laid on the floor between them, his eyes going wild. Laura barely had time to react before Constance followed after him inside the room, her face twisted on a mask of calm fury. "Get up," Jedidiah barked, aiming the gun straight at Laura. "Pa—" Travis tried to cut in, but a snarl from Constance was all the response he received, her gaze locking onto Laura with such an unnerving intensity that it sent chills down her spine. "Wait!" Laura shrieked, still holding Ryan’s side. Her voice carrying a desperate tone. "It's over! Chris is dead, and we're cured—" Not sooner she spoke the words than she realized she'd made a terrible mistake. Travis closed his eyes, his mouth open in a mute gasp. And then a wail escaped Constance as her gaze shot to Chris's lifeless body, now lying on the floor in the center of the room. Jed's face contorted in a grimace, as if Laura had just destroyed his world. "You clueless brat," Jedidiah growled. "This ain't over. Now get up!" He raised the shotgun to emphasize his demand. Laura tried to explain, tried to plead. "He needs help—Ryan's bleeding out—he'll die if we don't—" The deafening blast of the shotgun cut her off. Her ears rang, the sound echoing endlessly in her head. She could barely see anything, her brain just trying to understand what had happened. She saw Travis move and speak to his dad, but the words were muted behind a veil of a high pitch sound and a blur curtain on her eyes. For a second, everything seemed to fog around her, and then she blinked away at the dizzy feeling. This was when she realized what had just happened. Where Ryan's head was supposed to be, she saw a splatter of blood, hair, and skin. He was gone. Replaced by a ghastly, gaping open wound. Laura's breath caught in her throat when the realization hit her like a wall of bricks. The Hacketts weren't afraid of the werewolves anymore. She was the monster now. She—and anyone else who survived the night—were the new enemies in Hackett's Quarry. "Fucking bitch!" Constance's shrill voice cut through Laura's stunned shock. She sat on the floor, cradling Chris's head, her voice full of pain and venom. "She killed my Kaylee! And now she's taken my boy too!" Laura tried to protest, Ryan blood covering her lips and making her slur her words of innocence, head still spinning from the shock. "I didn't—" "Ma—" Travis tried to intervene, trying to calm his mother. That had been a bad idea. Constance whirled on him, eyes ablaze. "And you helped her!" she spat, pointing an accusatory finger at her son. "You helped them kill our family! You were here, and you didn't protect your brother!" Travis dropped his head, refusing to meet her gaze, shame, and sadness filling his face. "Ma—" "Shut the fuck up!" Constance screamed, her voice cracking with that ragged edge of desperation. It wasn't just rage— it was anguish, pure and unfiltered, bleeding through her words. She turned back to Laura once more, her features contorted in that heartbroken anger that almost made her unrecognizable. "You hunted my granddaughter like a fucking animal! My beautiful Kaylee… My only granddaughter…" Her voice cracked on the word, and a sob wrenched itself free from her throat, a sound filled with unbearable loss. Tears streamed down her wrinkled face, her entire body trembling as if she were on the verge of shattering. Constance's shoulders heaved with every breath, and she covered her face with both hands as if trying to keep herself together. "She was everything to me," she gagged, the words forcing themselves out of her in hoarse, gagging gulps. "She was my baby, my perfect—sweet girl." Soft now, barely above a whisper, as though talking to someone that might not be there. "What do you want to do with her, dear?” Jed asked softly, his voice even, but the reflection in his eyes mirrored the shared pain of a father mourning his child. "She killed them, Jed," Constance sobbed, her hands falling as she stared at Laura through a film of tears. "She took everything from us." She surged forward, her face twisted in a mask of grief. For a moment she looked lost, hazy, her eyes not quite focused and empty, as if she was trying to wrap her head around just how much she'd lost. "I want them back," she whispered, voice breaking. Laura's eyes flickered, confusion etching across her face. "What—?" Constance's eyes snapped back into focus, but something dark and terrifying twisted the sadness in them. "I want them back," she repeated. Her voice was rising, her words spoken with a fevered intensity. "You took my granddaughter. You took my son. You're going to give them back to me!" Her voice was a demented snarl, rabid with an impossible demand, one that defied reality. Suddenly, she turned to Jed, her face settling into an ugly mask of determination. "Take her to the cells downstairs," she ordered, her voice shaking but firm. Travis's face went pale. "You can't be serious—" "Take her!" Constance shrieked, the sudden explosion of sound like a palpable blow. Its force made Jed and Travis flinch, and for an instant, even Laura stumbled, caught off guard by the raw nakedness of Constance's voice. The room went silent but for the labored breathing of the grieving grandmother. She looked around wildly, her grief having consumed her completely. It wasn't just hate driving her actions; it was a desperate, mindless need to fill the void in her heart. Laura could see it now: Constance wasn't just seeking revenge but was clawing at whatever shred of hope of a healing opportunity she could grasp, no matter how twisted it was. Travis and Jed stood petrified, paralyzed by the force of her emotions. It was at that moment Laura saw her chance. She bolted for the door, Constance's screams and the commotion behind her blending into a chaotic cacophony. The door opened, giving her a taste of freedom that lingered for an instant before a hand clamped around her ankle, yanking her down hard. She hit the floor with a painful thud, and Constance's voice rang out behind her, triumphant. "Good job, Bobby! Get her downstairs. Now." Laura was dragged to her feet by Bobby, his grip firm on the back of her neck as he hauled her back into the room, face to face with the barrel of Jedediah's shotgun. "Move, girl," Jedidiah growled at her, his tone filled with hatred. "You can't be serious," Travis' whisper echoed in the room, strained, almost breaking under the weight of his emotion. There was a desperate undertone to his voice as they walked down the hall, her footsteps heavy, reluctant, each one as if she was being dragged into an abyss. "This is madness! You can't actually expect me to just stand by and let that happen!" He sounded more like he was pleading for them to listen—to understand— rather than arguing. Laura kept quiet; hands raised slightly as the cold shotgun nuzzled in against the small of her back. Constance trailed along behind them, her face twisted up in anguish, her eyes blazing with fury. Laura dared a glance over her shoulder at Travis, whose face was set in desperation, torment, and something deeper—betrayal, perhaps? His eyes darted between his mother and Laura, wordlessly searching and pleading for a way to quell this. Bobby tailed them in silence, knowing full well there was nothing that could be done. No fight that could be won. "Silas is still out there," Travis continued, his voice cracking like some man on the brink of breaking. "We got a couple of hours left before dawn. We can still save Caleb—" But Constance didn't even bat an eyelash. Her step didn't falter; her eyes didn't quail. It was as if Travis's words were the mere wind howling across a wide, open space. Laura watched him struggle, his shoulders taut, his hands quivering with his attempts at breaking through, but Constance was ironclad, a wall of grief and vengeance that he couldn't break through. "Please," he said, surging forward with a raw, almost frantic energy. "Just—consider this, Ma. Locking her up— Expecting her to—to— This won't change what happened. It won't bring Kaylee back!" his voice dropped flat, cracking beneath the weight of his own pain. Something in Laura twisted with his words, her stomach knotting with guilt and fear, the instinctive desire to bolt making her glance over her shoulder again. For an instant, his gaze flashed with a conflicting reflection. He didn’t want to do this— she could see it in his desperation. His face was etched with anguish, his hands shaking as they floated uselessly beside him, as if he wanted to reach out and drag her away from the nightmare they were being dragged into. But Constance never flinched. The older woman's eyes were filled with the dark storm of emotions churning beneath them, a vortex of grief and rage and despair, and something else, something mean and relentless, fastened on Laura, and Laura swallowed hard against the weight of that gaze. "Ma, please," Travis wheedled again, voice breaking, as he was taken down the creaking wooden steps into the basement. "This isn't what they would've wanted. This isn't what Kaylee would have wanted." Something flickered across Constance's face, something which almost seemed to resemble heartbreak—but then it hardened into something far darker and more unyielding. "Don't you dare speak to me about what they would have wanted!" Constance's voice cracked out like a whip. Travis's head whipped to the side, his whole body going rigid as if he'd been struck. Laura watched in astounded amazement as Travis slowly turned his head back toward his mother, his eyes cast down with hurt. He just stood there, frozen, his shoulders slumped, the fight going out of him like a balloon deflating. For a long minute, he stared and stared at the floor before his gaze rose to his mother, his eyes filled with something so raw and vulnerable that it made Laura's heart ache. "Ma," he whispered, his voice small and broken. It was like a child calling out, lost and hurt, reaching for comfort that would never come. "If you go through with this, I will have to go to the police. I can't allow this to happen." "Don't you fucking dare, you piece of shit.” Constance screamed, the tears streaming down her face in uncontrollable rivers. "You should be ashamed! After everything she's taken from us, after what you've done?" She stepped closer and Travis took a half-step back, his body recoiling as if the words themselves were physical blows. "How could you defend her after she hunted down my granddaughter like a damn animal? Your niece!" Travis's lips parted, a protest forming, but no words came out. He looked like he wanted to argue, to scream, but all that he could do was stand and shake, his gaze locked on his mother's face in some search for understanding, forgiveness. But there was none. Only rage and grief, churning and burning like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. The descent through the stairs to the basement barely took a few instants but dragged on to seem like an eternity. Before she knew it, Laura was wrapped in that dim red light. It was strange to think she stood there not long ago with Ryan, trying to free that other counselor from the cell she was standing in front of. Number three. With no less apprehension, she saw how the werewolf on the first cell was nowhere to be seen and completely unaccounted for. She didn't have the strength to say any word, fearing that all this anger she had been a witness to would be focused on her. She got a little push from behind by the barrel of the gun, feeling forced inside the cell. She couldn’t do anything but step inside slowly, getting to the center of the cell before she had the strength to turn around and confront her jailers. She lowered her hands and waited for the door to close, permanently trapping her in an electrified cage. "Not yet," Constance whispered, raising a hand to stop Jedediah from closing the door. She turned slowly, her gaze riveting on Travis with an intensity that sent a shiver down Laura's spine. When she spoke, her voice was low, oozing venom. "You too," she spat. "Ma?!” Travis's voice broke as he took an uncertain step back, his eyes wide with disbelief. But Constance didn't waver. Her face twisted up in anger, every word from her mouth as poisonous as the finger jabbed deep into his chest. "You heard me!” she snarled. "You only had one bloody job. You were supposed to protect your family! You were supposed to protect your brother and my little Kaylee—that was your fucking job!" Every word had Travis recoiling, but Constance in anger was a force of nature— unstoppable, merciless. She pushed forward, looming over him despite a frame much shorter than his, her eyes alight with that form of anger that comes only from a deep heartbreak. "And you couldn't even manage that," she spat, her voice cracking on the last word. "You couldn’t keep them safe. And now you stand here, threatening to go against your own family?! To betray us?!" She spat the words out as if they had a foul taste, her lips curling in revulsion. "You useless piece of shit. You can't protect a fucking goldfish in a tank. So, if you're useless as a protector, then you're going to serve better by helping to heal this family. You fucking faggot piece of shit. You can't even fuck a woman to save your sorry ass. I said get in! Your freaking bullets killed my baby and my son, you are bringing her back even if it's the last thing you do with your pathetic useless life!" Travis's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked shattered, the weight of her words crushing him as his shoulders slumped forward. In horror, Laura felt a sickening guilt; her fear was forgotten in this scene before her. The grief of Constance had warped into something ugly, something monstrous, and it tore pieces off Travis. "You're the reason this family is broken, and now you're going to help fix it," Constance spat, stepping backward enough to swing her arm out and point directly at Laura, still standing inside the cage. "Get in!” The words felt like an actual blow, and instinctively, Laura stepped back, her heart racing against her chest. Travis's face hardened. His mouth seemed to tighten to an even, thin-lipped line. He shook his head, and though the voice was strained, there was firmness in it. "No fucking way am I going to—” The slap seemingly came out of nowhere; the sound of it reverberated off the walls of the basement like a gunshot. Constance's hand moved in that blur of speed in such a vicious arc, it left Travis reeling. He stumbled backward, clutching at his cheek, his eyes wide once more—shocked, in pain. Bobby shifted uncomfortably; the tall man looked from his mother to his brother with a fidgeting, unsettled expression. His hands twitched at his sides, undecided as to what to do or where to look. The air was thick with tension that crackled in the basement. "Ma…” Travis's voice was barely above a whisper, the word strangling in his throat. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking, his face pale under the red hellish lamp of the cell, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He'd been slapped before—hell, he'd taken worse—but this… this felt different. The slap wasn't just physical for a wrongdoing. This slap had been against his moral code and everything he stood for. As a sheriff and as a man. It cut deeper, slicing through the remnants of his pride and dignity. "Ma," he tried again, this time his voice hushed, as he fought not to lose it. "Please… don't do this.” Constance's expression didn't soften. If anything, her gaze only grew colder, more determined. She raised her chin and stared down at him, as if he was some stranger, someone she no longer knew. "Don't make me say it again, Travis,” she warned, the tone low, dangerous. "Get in before I make you. Now.” "Pa.” Travis's voice was hoarse with absolute desperation as he whirled to his father for a lifeline. His eyes went wide and pleading, his face raw with incredulity and terror. "Get in, son. Just do what your mother says.” Jed's voice sounded hollow, like he was repeating lines he could hardly believe himself. His gaze didn't meet Travis's, and the betrayal in his words felt like a gut punch. Travis's jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break down, but then a spark of defiance lit his eyes. "This is fucking crazy, I'm not allowing this to happen.” He spun around, ready to leave, but the sudden shift in his stance had him miss the quick nod Jedediah gave Bobby. Travis's way out was sealed off efficiently and terrifyingly by the unyielding bulk of his little brother's body. "Bobby—” Travis's voice cracked in a mix of frustration and incredulity. He peered up at his younger brother, seeking the soft-hearted boy he'd helped raise. The boy who'd cried over having stepped on a frog. But the man standing before him was impassive, his face twisted in a mixture of pain and resolve. "Sorry, Travis.” Bobby murmured in a barely audible tone. No anger in his tone, no animosity—just a weight of sorrow. It was clear this was something Bobby did not want to do, yet the resolve in his stance said he would, anyway. That was all it took for something in Travis to snap. He lunged forward with a ferocity that even Bobby was startled by, fists flying as he threw every ounce of strength into getting past his brother. Laura had never seen a grown man fight so desperately, so raw: he wrestled and shoved and struggled, wild and uncoordinated, as if the disparity in size and strength between him and Bobby could be overcome by simple will. It was not enough. Bobby's arms crushed around Travis like a vice, yanking him backward despite him being wildly thrashing about. Every time Travis broke loose, every time he got a punch or kick in, Bobby would absorb the blows, his grip closing, until he had finally outmaneuvered him. He was like some wounded animal—teeth bared, cornered in a desperate last stand against the inevitable. By the time it was over, Travis was panting, dripping with sweat, and trembling with exhaustion and rage. Bobby released him only once they were inside the cell, the same iron bars that held Laura captive now sealing Travis's fate too. Travis's blood was all over Bobby's arms and overalls from the wounds he suffered with his fight with the werewolf. But Bobby stared at them emotionlessly, as if his brain could not handle the size of what he was going through. He closed the door after he got out, leaving the two captives trapped inside the small, claustrophobic space. Travis battered on the cell door, making a clatter that painfully echoed in the basement until Jedediah turned the level in the power box. There was an immediate crackling of energy in the air, the metal bars suddenly sparking to life with hazardous electricity. Travis froze, instinctively retreating to avoid the painful shock, yet his eyes remained fixed on his father and brother with a wild, desperate intensity. "Pa, let me out of here!” he yelled, his voice rough and raw. "The police would wonder what's become of me—they'll ask questions. I’m the fucking Sheriff of North Kill— people will look for me!" He was almost begging now, his voice edged with hysteria. Jedediah watched him with an unreal disconnection, like Travis was an unruly stranger and not his own son. "We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” he said flatly. "There's witnesses all over the campsite! They saw us! They'll call the police!” Travis's voice rose, the words spilling out in a frantic rush. "Oh, we know.” His dad almost sounded bored as he nodded back to Bobby. "Hunting season hasn't finished yet.” "No more blood on our hands! We agreed to that!" Travis's voice broke with a raw anguish clear in each word. "This is not how we protect our family!” "We're so beyond that," Constance spat, a bitter edge to her voice. "There's little left worth protecting. Unless you start pulling your weight." Her voice broke, and in that one moment, hurt danced fleetingly across her face before it twisted into something colder, crueler. "You want to get out? Well, get that fucking bitch pregnant so we can have a family again." Travis recoiled, as if she'd slapped him again. "I will never—,” he started, but the rest was swallowed by a vicious snarl from Constance. "Of course you wouldn't, you fucking faggot piece of shit. Like I didn't know what was wrong with you.” The voice was low, dangerous. She turned away, muttering something under her breath before snapping back at him with scathing finality. "It should have been you, not my sweet Chris. He did what he had to do for this family. You should be the one dead. You either fix this or you’ll rot here with that fucking murderer.” She stormed out of the room with that last poisonous remark, without ever looking back. Travis was speechless, standing there with his chest heaving as he tried to understand exactly what had just happened. He stared at the door that was now closed, unseeing, his breathing very shallow and in short, ragged gasps. For several long minutes, he didn't move or say another word. The fight had been drained from him, leaving only an empty shell. Finally, he turned around slowly, his eyes heavy as they settled on his new cellmate. She was bloody, half-naked, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Shivering, clutching at herself as if to cover a body that had more blood than cloth covering it. Laura looked so small and fragile, then her expression shifted—her eyes narrowed with a fierce, angry determination. "If you try to touch me, I fucking swear—” she started, the sharpness in her voice defiant, as she edged her way closer and closer to the electrified metallic cell. Travis felt a sudden, unexpected wave of hatred rise up within him towards this woman. How could she—after all that had just occurred, after all that she had just seen—how could she have the audacity to accuse him of that? "With all due respect—read the fucking room, Laura.” His voice came out harsh and biting. "I know it doesn't look like it, but I am not a fucking monster. So please, just shut the fuck up.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration, his fingers trembling. He felt nauseous, his stomach twisting with a sickening mix of shame and anger. Laura stared at him, easing just a fraction. When she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, it was to ask, "What your mom said… are you—you know— gay?” "What?” Travis asked, staring at her in astonishment, his eyes wide as he blinked, his mouth opening and closing, trying to process her question. She raised her hands in a placating gesture. "Because that's okay by me. I have nothing against—that would even make me feel better—” "No, I am not fucking gay.” His words came up more forcefully than he meant. "What's wrong with you? I can only be a rapist or homosexual?" He shook his head, letting out a humorless chuckle. "No, I'm not. But I've never hurt anyone like that, and I'm not about to start just because my mother demanded it. I'm a cop, and that must mean something to somebody; I must believe my badge counts for something.” He sighed. "Well, this shit just flew into the fan. It has gone too far, and I've just been another pawn in this screwed-up game." He stopped, his gaze wandering off, his voice dropping to a whisper, almost to himself rather than Laura. "We need to get out of here.” He closed his eyes, his face screwing up as he fought the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. The wild desperation was gone when he opened them again, replaced by a steely resolve. "Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his steady, professional voice—the cop mask slipping back into place. "You took a bit of a tumble when Bobby grabbed you.” She looked at herself for a second, considering her state and the ache in her knees from when she fell, but then she shook her head. "I'm fine. You thought… you," She pointed at his arm. "Would you let me check it out?” He looked down at his hand, then arm, and shrugged, a look of resignation crossing his features. "It's not like we have anything here to do anything about it.” She took that for permission, stepping closer to him. The faint scent of sweat and fear filling the air. She kept her gaze on his, her heart pounding with concern as she got closer to examine his wound. She reached out and gently took the fabric of his torn shirt, opening the hole nearest his elbow carefully and tearing the sleeve downward without breaking their gaze. Her mind raced with thoughts of infection and the pain he must be enduring. It wasn’t until she had to unbutton his wrist that she finally looked down. The sleeve fell to the floor, revealing a deep, bloody wound. The sight of it churned her stomach; it had to be hurting like hell. Then she turned her gaze to his palm and made a painful grin when she saw the clean cut from the mirror. But she could not see any sharps in the wound, and it seemed clean and not deep enough to need stitches. She sighed with relief. Just a cleanup, disinfectant, bandage and he will be good to go. "We need to clean the wound, disinfect it, and cover it. You need stitches here; I bet that's where the fangs were," she said with a calm voice but in a tone packed full of concern. He nodded, his eyes reflecting how serious it was. "Well, nothing we can do until they come back," he whispered, his tone etched with defeat. "You need to tell them. It could get infected badly, she urged.” "Yes, I know," he replied; the timbre of his voice sounded like that of a man speaking from experience. A heavy silence lay between them until he felt the urge to break it: "We need a plan to get out. This is just going to get worse." Laura nodded slowly. "So, what's the plan?” he asked. "You're asking me?” she said, her face crossing with disbelief and surprise as she stepped back. "Well, you are the escape master. I've personally seen you in action. A cop's worst nightmare," he said, trying to lighten his voice without completely hiding the tension. She let out a short laugh, almost a sigh. "I'm not that good.” "You escaped under my watch.” "Because you have a fucking heart, Travis," she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. "I played the wounded woman in distress and worked like a fucking charm because I knew you cared, somehow. You didn't like the situation any more than we did. You tried to protect us in your own fucked up way. But you didn’t want to hurt us. I seriously doubt your parents are going to be as manageable. And besides, it was one-on-one when you locked us, not one-on-three armed hillbillies.” "Two,” he corrected her firmly. "We are in this together. Is two against three.” Armed hillbillies. She turned and walked away, her head shaking almost imperceptibly. "When the time comes, you may have to choose between your family and your family's murderer. I'm not counting my luck charms on this one.” "You did what you had to do to protect the person you love.” "And that's why I'm only counting on myself,” she whispered as an answer, making sure he knew she knew he loved his family more than a complete stranger that just murdered half of them. A silence fell over the cells as they both sank down to opposite ends of the cage, the weight of their circumstances falling heavily between them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Laura didn't realize she had fallen asleep until the sound of Travis's shoe sole scraping against the pavement jolted her awake. She blinked groggily, her heart quickening fast in her chest as she heard footsteps approaching. Travis was already standing, looking straight at the corridor. First, Bobby appeared, his face shadowed and tense; followed by Jedediah, his expression equally grim. "What happened?” Travis asked in a low, but urgent voice as his gaze scanned each of their faces for answers. "Did you find Silas?” "No.” Jedediah's voice was somber, a warning that the news wasn't good. "Pa—" "Caleb's dead," Bobby burst out, his words landing like a physical blow to Travis and Laura. A shiver ran down her back. That wasn't good news for their situation, since the mental state of Constance—in this extreme circumstance, was just going to worsen with the grief. "What happened?" Travis whispered, his tone careful, almost pleading. "One of the little pigs shot him in the lodge," Bobby said, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. He looked completely overwhelmed, eyes darting between his brother and father. "Ma’s upstairs with them three." "How many survivors?" Travis dared to ask, his words steadier than he felt. "From the counselors, how many survivors?" Jedediah answered before Bobby had a chance. "None." Travis let out a long, defeated sigh; the sound escaping him was like that of a balloon slowly releasing its air. He knew what had happened. Too many witnesses, too many people saw, too many people knew. They couldn't leave Hackett’s Quarry without exposing everything. The weight of his failures pressed down on him like a physical burden. He had failed them all; his brother, his nephews, the kids he had sworn to protect. It gnawed at him like a relentless reminder of his shortcomings. He was supposed to protect those kids—for Chris— and he had failed. The thought of his brother's disappointment twisted in his gut like a knife, almost too painful to bear. His heart was heavy with the knowledge that this moment had come because he did nothing to prevent it. The despair and self-loading were overwhelming, so thick, gnawing and eating him inside out-a darkness he seemed not to find his way out of. He couldn’t escape from it. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he lowered himself to the floor, the coolness of the concrete beneath him grounding him against the storm within. Seconds later, Laura appeared at his side, her voice urgent, fierce. "He is badly injured," she said, her eyes harsh and defiant. "We need a medical kit and water to clean his wounds. We are covered in dirt and blood; it's a high risk of infe—" Travis cursed as alarms blared, cutting her off. He turned his head up to his dad, who was by the wall of the power box, pressing a small button next to the levels. The red dim light started flaring in circles ominously, and from sprinklers in the ceiling, freezing water started raining down over their cell at high pressure. The sudden shock of icy water made his breath catch in his throat, stealing away whatever warmth remained. "There you go, sweetheart," they heard Jedediah say in a mock tone, his voice full of sadistic pleasure. Laura let out a little gasp as the cold water hit her, and she started shivering uncontrollably. Travis sprang up; his instincts kicking in as he firmly grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to the furthest corner of the cell. But even there, the water was relentless, pouring down like a torrential storm that made their skin hurt like attacked by millions of small needles. Cold burrowed deep into their bones, and every movement felt torturous. He heard Jedediah yell an order to Bobby to bring the medical kit, but the sound was muffled through the roar of the water. The pressure felt like they were being pounded from every side. Travis's heart sounded like a thunder inside his chest as fear and a sense of helplessness started welling up like bile. He screamed, "Pa! Stop!" but his voice was quickly quenched by the continued deluge, cold water muffling the words out. The chill cascaded over them, and Travis's mind went into overdrive, desperation clawing at the insides. Several minutes—what felt like an eternity—elapsed before the lights eventually stopped flashing and the water finally came to a stop. Travis stepped back from Laura, whom he had tried sheltering from the merciless downpour. They were soaked and freezing, each piece of clothing attached to the body. The cold had sapped their energy, leaving them shivering and completely exhausted. The desperate situation swept Travis's mind with thoughts of what might happen next, gnawing into his fear. The fans started to kick in, lowering the temperature of the cell while the ventilation worked on drying after what was supposed to be a normal maintenance cleaning session. The red oscillating light steadied itself back into the same dim permanent suffocating scarlet. They were too overwhelmed and distracted by the present situation to have noticed that Bobby had opened the door until they heard it clack shut. The cold, damp air seemed to lean in on them, emphasizing their feeling of helpless incarceration. On the floor inside their cell was a white box with a red cross, bright against the grimy concrete. "Your mother wants us to bring you some stuff from your old bedroom," Jedediah said. "Little Bobby will bring you something to eat later." Jedediah nodded his head toward the door and Bobby walked away right on his heels. "Hey, wait! What about the bloody toilet? There is no toilet here!" Laura interrupted before their figures disappeared. "Don't you worry, hun, I'll bring ya' a bucket." And with that, they were gone. The sound of their footsteps echoed until they faded into the distance, leaving behind only the chilling silence. The only sounds were the water drops falling from the ceiling bars, matching the rhythm of the ventilation fans. Cold magnified every small sound, and the silence was all that heavier and oppressive. "A bucket? He's fucking joking, isn’t he?" Laura finally exclaimed after a few seconds processing his words. She looked at Travis, who was just reaching down to grab the medical kit from the floor. "I seriously doubt it," he whispered, recoiling slightly. Almost an apology reflected in his eyes as he handed her the kit, taking note of her shaking hands with a concerned expression. "Are you sure you can do this?" he asked, nodding toward her trembling fingers struggling to open the box. "I’m not sure, I'm freezing, but we have to treat the cuts, or it's going to get infected," she muttered between her chattering teeth. He nodded in understanding and let her work on cleaning and disinfecting his wounds. His fears were again fueled as she fumbled trying to thread the surgical needle. "Laura—" "I know, stop it, dude. I got it. There are some painkillers in here that will help with the pain. It's going to sting like a bitch," she rambled, a second consequence of the sharp cold. Travis took the needle and thread from her, then gently held her hands and raised them to his mouth, evolving them on his own. "Hey—wh—" He blew warm air onto her fingers. The sensation was a mix of relief and pain due to the contrast in temperatures, but soon her fingers started to show better mobility and sensitivity. "Thank you," she said after he released her, returning to the needle and thread. "It was pure self-interest. It was not going to be pleasant for either of us," he replied with a faint smile. She refocused her attention on his arm, stitched a couple of the deeper cuts-he was in such bad shape. Then she cleaned each wound thoroughly before disinfecting and wrapping them in medicated bandages. To make sure, she gave extra attention to his hand, making sure—for a second time—that there weren't any pieces of mirror embedded within the cut. Antiseptic odor mingled with cold, damp air; tension was heavy on them both. "They said there were no survivors…" she whispered and did not look into his eyes. "Max was waiting for me on the island… do you think they—?" "I don't know," he answered in a whisper. "Maybe they just followed the known counselors without knowing Max was there. Don't lose hope. He might be alive, on his way to the police." "He doesn't know what happened here. He doesn't know what your family is doing. If he tries to come here asking for me—" "He would have been smart enough to go to the police after your disappearance, and when he tells them how I locked you in the cell for two months, they will start an investigation. More if I’m now missing too." He frowned. "I'm not sure what explanation my parents will give to the police for the death of Chris and the rest, or even us being missing…" he trailed off. "Let's just hope the police get enough information to open an investigation." "Will they find the tunnel to the basement?" Laura had to look up at Travis' face when he stayed silent after the question. "I'm feeling I am not going to like the answer?" "Most of the tunnels were built afterward for illegal purposes" "The moonshine tunnels," Laura ventured. "The moonshine tunnels," he confirmed. "What means that most of the basement of this house is not in the plans of the original house, so the police will have no knowledge about them." Laura grunted with visible disappointment. Travis stayed silent, giving Laura all the information she needed with that. It took Laura some time to finish the bandages. "There. We need to change them every few days. Just to make sure. Do you need painkillers?" He shook his head. "Save them. The water is making it numb, so I don't feel much pain now. It wasn't long before they heard the steps again. Bobby appeared in the entrance of the cell with a single bed frame and a mattress. He entered the cell in the middle and placed them in the left corner. "Ma says this one's for you, Travis; she says your girlfriend can sleep on some towels in her own cell. I'm bringing some boxes on the next trip." Bobby chimed in somehow apologetically. Neither Travis nor Laura said a word about it. He left for a few undetermined minutes, coming back with a couple of heavy boxes. And—leaving the prisoners in complete disbelief— a camping toilet that was placed next to the old bed frame. Once satisfied he left the cell and closed after himself. Bobby walked slowly towards the level box and Laura was about to scream at him to stop, thinking the power was going to be turned on and they would be electrocuted with the water still floating in the floor, but instead the door in between both cells opened. "I haven’t slept yet, so I’m going to go to bed now. I will come back later and bring you some food." "Bye, Bobby," Travis responded with a complete lack of interest, turning around on his heels to cross the cells and get into what was going to be their living area in their nearest future. Laura watched him go before finally turning to follow Travis. "I thought he was going to power up the electric cells with the water still dripping," Laura said with a nervous tone. "There is a moist detector in the toolbox, it will not power it until the humidity levels are low enough to not to suppose a danger," he explained with patience. It took a bit for Laura to ask her next question, unsure of how to word it in a way that sounded too hopeful. "Would he open the door if we asked him to?" she asked, leaning over Travis's shoulder to see into the first box he decided to open. "You can try, but he doesn't obey anybody but my parents. And believe me, C and I tried." "C?" Laura asked. Travis stopped, not realizing he was drifting back toward his childhood memories and that there was not any C anymore. It was just him now. Travis Hackett. He was never going to see his little brother again. He swallowed and rummaged even deeper in the box. "Chris." He whispered as an answer. He grabbed an old hoodie, trying to make up the color; it was a clear color for sure, but under the crimson light everything was red. The fabric was soft yet frayed at the edges, faded with age. It carried the faint smell of dust, a combination of mildew and the musty scent of long-forgotten memories. He analyzed it for a second and then handed it to Laura. "It is old but warm." Laura took it gratefully and pulled it on, the warm fabric wrapping around her like a cocoon, discarding the old pieces of fabric that were hanging from her thin body after the transformation. She glanced down at the design emblazoned across the front; a cheerful cartoon carrot, its bright colors muted with age and red. "It is quite warm. Are you sure you don't want it? Your uniform looks very cold." "It hasn't fit me in years," he muttered absently, reaching for another piece of clothing, before changing his mind and tossing it to the side. "Was this one yours?" Laura asked in surprise, taking the design in the front. "Yes, very long ago. Ma always preferred to keep our own clothes for hand-me-downs. That Bobby didn't have any chance to wear them is still a continuous reminder every time the boxes' conversation comes up." She laughed softly, digging through the second box. "Bobby seems like the kind of guy who grew way too fast and too big to wear his big brother's clothes," she said, shaking her head at an oversized, ridiculously too-large T-shirt. Travis smiled faintly at the comment, the humor needed a release from their grim reality. He continued to dig through the clothes and old aged material until his fingers brushed against worn fabric. Finally, he pulled out a pair of old sweatpants. He could tell by feeling that they were soft and fuzzy from years of wear but would still hold up to the task at hand. "Here," he said, his face apologetic, handing them over to her. "No underwear but this will have to do." Laura said nothing to that, too relieved at the prospect of something comfortable to wear. She slipped into the sweatpants, their loose fit enveloping her like a warm hug. It was comforting, just being dressed again—a little victory in their bleak surroundings. She took a moment to appreciate the small consolation of the clothes, the soft material soothing against her skin. It was an odd feeling, really-how something as simple could feel like a luxury when everything else felt so wrong. "Thanks, Travis," she said, smiling genuinely at his thoughtfulness, even amidst their struggles. "Anytime," he replied in a soft tone. She kept rummaging on through the box Travis had given her: old T-shirts with faded prints, a few of which were even cracked; jeans, comfortable to her fingers, soft from innumerable washes, but practically falling apart at the seams; the musty-sweet smell of the clothing—the smell of a long-remembered attic where memories lay in store. There were no socks, but she spied a tattered piece of cloth ripped off a shirt. She reached in and snatched it up. "Mind if I use this?" she asked in a soft voice. "Not at all," Travis said, eyes pinned as she expertly tied it around her head as a make-shift hair tie and drew her damp hair away from her face. "What about the bed?" Laura asked, looking at Travis as he started digging in the remaining clothes for himself. "What about it?" he asked, without letting up in his search. "Well, it's a single bed, so even if you feel like sharing, we're not going to fit without breathing down each other's necks all night long. Or are you going to make me sleep on towels on the floor?" "Of course not." He finally found a shirt and started to untie his tie. Laura turned away, giving him a semblance of privacy while still trying to process their situation. "Then what?" There's nowhere we must be, and time doesn't work when stuck in a cell. I think it would be better if we took turns. I can sleep at night, and you sleep during the day. That way we're always on watch and rested when the escape opportunity shows up." "Why should I have to sleep during the day?" "Because my family sleeps at night, and if they visit us during the day, it's better for me to be awake to confront them if needed." Laura considered his words and the logic behind them. She didn't want to be a liability when the chance for escape finally presented itself. And for sure she didn't want to be part of any conversation with his parents when Travis was asleep. She heard Travis mutter something under his breath and turned around without thinking. What she saw made her heart drop. Travis stood there with his tie off and his uniform shirt open, revealing gruesome wounds that raked across his chest in three long, deep gashes from his left shoulder to the center of his chest. Unmistakable marks of a werewolf's claw. The edges were rough and raw, bloody, stark reminders of the night's horror. "Well, fuck," she breathed; the reality slamming her with unforgivable hardness. The stress of their situation combined with the shock of his injuries overloading her. "I'll grab the kit," she whispered, not much above a whisper. "Put the toilet in the next cell too," he reminded her, his voice hoarse. Laura frowned as she stopped by the camping toilet. "You all are kidding, aren't you? About the toilet. They will let us go out for showers and bathroom breaks, right?" "No, I don't think they will. That was only a service from the police station, but they will not hold the same VIP experiences here. These cells are walkthroughs, but it's better to keep this one as a living space and leave the other as a toilet. Just an attempt at privacy." "Privacy?!" she shrieked, her anger finally overflowing. She grabbed the damn toilet, moved to the cell adjacent, left it on the floor and turned back, glaring at Travis through the bars. Straight into his dark tired eyes. "What privacy?!" "I know," he sighed. "Just please don't fight with me. We're in the same shit." Laura glared at the toilet, her anger suddenly mixed with despair. "Oh, we will be in the same shit, alright." "Medical kit, kid," he pressed on, determined to avoid an argument. She got to work quickly, snatching up the kit and cleaning and dressing the remaining wounds. The gauze was roughly textured and scratchy against her fingers as she worked, and the antiseptic stung as it touched his wounds, making Travis wince slightly. She slathered antibiotic ointment onto the gashes and wrapped them securely but not too tight. Soon they were clothed and warm. Travis fitted into an old dark hoodie and some clear, worn-out sweatpants that probably belonged to a much younger Bobby. The fabric was soft but threadbare, affording just enough insulation to keep the chill off. He gathered their wet clothes and tossed them into the other cell, the damp fabric slapping softly against the cold floor. He did the same with his shoes, they were just going to rot and disintegrate in the humidity of the cells. As he did, Laura's eyes caught something interesting atop the bed. "You had your radio with you the whole time?" she accused, grabbing the cold, wet device. "It's useless," he replied, shrugging. "Not just because it's wet but you can't radio anybody from the basement. There's not enough range. You can try it if you want but save the battery." "What about your phone?" "Same, but I don't have one." "What do you mean you don't have one? You don't own a fucking phone? It's 2021!" "Caleb gave me his old one, but I have it at home. I don’t take it to work or when hunting because of the tracking, and I just use it mostly to message my nephews. I use the radio at work and with the family—more secure. I have a landline at home. So yes, I do have one, but it’s at home." "Jesus, you're fucking old school." "I'm taking that as a compliment." Laura puffed a laugh, her spirits lifting slightly as she looked over the rest of the boxes. "Do you mind if I snoop a bit more?" "Be my guest; you're not going to find anything interesting or useful. I need to lie down a bit; I'm dead on my feet." She nodded and began rummaging through the other box as Travis lay down in bed. Most were filled with old clothes, faded blankets, and a few towels—all of which smelled stale and musty, showing their age and years of storage after long lasting summers of wear. The fabric was rough and worn; some pieces were even eaten through by moths and insects. Despite the unpleasant odor, however, they were warm and dry, which was a blessing considering their circumstances. Laura drew out a couple of blankets and set them on the bed beside Travis' bare feet. She thought they could make the bed when he got up, but for now, warmth was the priority. As she finished, a wave of exhaustion washed over her. It had been too much to process, and she knew it would continue to be too much until she regained her freedom. She looked at Travis now and his even breathing pattern, showing his deep fall into a more than welcomed sleep. She sat down on the floor beside his legs and rested her arms on the mattress, laying her head upon them; finding consolation in his existence amidst such desolation. With every fiber in her body protesting, Laura finally let herself sink against the mattress. The exhaustion wrapped her more completely in its warm arms. She closed her eyes, and her mind whirled with thoughts, fragmented between fear, uncertainty, and the far-off chance of escape. But before she could still hold onto any more such thoughts, the weight of fatigue pulled her under once more, and she was asleep again. In her dreams, the chaos and horror of the night slowly receded, even the memory of it now an echo in the distant dreamy hills, as fractured pictures replaced the sleep terrors: sunlight filtering between the leaves, the breeze of spring, and laughter that could have come from another life. She was safe, at least for this little while, wrapped in the warmth of their make-believe haven. She was stirred awake by Travis's gentle prodding, a protest of stiffness in her back made her grunt a painful noise. Her eyes fluttered open to see him holding a tray, steam wafting up from a dish glistening in the dim red light. The comforting smell of food enveloped her, rich and savory, drawing her fully awake. Instinctively, she reached for the tray, impatience overriding her residual fatigue. "Sit in the bed; it's still hot," he whispered, and wordlessly, she did as instructed, the focus locked onto the meal before her as he turned to the cell door where his own tray awaited on the floor. She could see Bobby outside the cell, slumped in a wooden portable chair, talking in a low tone of voice to his brother when he sat back to eat his meal. She could have felt anger at the secrecy, but the low tones were a welcome relief. The silence let her bask in the food's warmth, the smell calling up memories she hadn't dared indulge in for months. She leaned in a little closer now, to take in the stew—a rustic creation, more broth than substance— topped with small pieces of meat and brightly colored vegetables. It was a sight that made her heart ache, for it brought images of her grandmother's homemade meals, warm and full of love. She heard her stomach growl while she carefully rolled a few chunks of meat with her spoon, looking at Travis for reassurance. When he started eating, she followed suit and abandoned any hesitation over the food. A moan of delight escaped her as the first bite touched her lips. There was a release of flavors in her mouth, a rich tapestry of sensation which draped itself around her like a warm hug. The venison was tender and perfectly seasoned; it melted away in her mouth at each morsel. The spices danced on her tongue, their fire trickling into her, and the potatoes and carrots dissolved easily, almost as if they too wanted to give comfort. The world melted away from her, and all that was real was this meal. It tasted like a piece of home—the smell of her grandmother's kitchen, the sound of laughter across a table, the beauty of being together as a family. The next second, it crashed over her in a wave; she was so very homesick for her family. A few tears welled in her eyes, and she hastily blinked them away, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable moment. She looked up to find Travis watching her, his expression a mix of surprise and something softer, while Bobby grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. "Sorry, it's just so good," she managed to apologize, feeling a bit sheepish. "Ma's stew is the best," Bobby agreed, nodding enthusiastically. At this, Laura smiled gratefully and went back to eating in silence, taking in every ounce of food as the warmth slowly spread within her. Having cleaned her dish, she refrained from running her tongue over the plate and instead picked up the glass of water. She gulped it down, enjoying the cool relief as it soothed her thirst; a satisfied sigh escaped her lips. She strained for a moment to catch snippets of conversation between the brothers, but it was all trivial—nothing of relevance to their dire situation. Mostly, it was about their family and their grief; so, she let them have privacy in silence. Soon, a full stomach and comforting atmosphere pulled her into drowsiness. "Lay down, kid; you're gonna fall off the bed," Travis said, a touch of alarm in his voice. Mumbling a protest, Laura didn’t have the energy to argue as he gently lifted her legs, helping her rotate and lie back down. She felt him covering her with the blankets, their weight anchors and warm solace. As he turned again to his brother, the heat and security closed over her, and she gave in once more to the heavy tug of sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When she awoke again, she was welcomed by a strange scenario: Travis was on the floor, struggling through a set of ab crunches, his face contorted between tired determination and the clear pain of his injuries. Immediately, Laura's medical instincts kicked in, feeling the need to intervene."What the fuck do you think you are doing?" she exclaimed. At the sound of her voice, he paused mid-crunch, leveraging himself onto his good arm, breathing hard."Morning. Just… exercising." His voice was low, barely masking the exhaustion. "You should start, too.""Not with new stitches, you shouldn't. And why on earth would I need to exercise?" she returned, her eyebrows rising.Travis struggled to a seated position, his face gaunt but his eyes clear. "I've been thinking—we need to stay sharp," he said now more calmly. Laura looked at him with confusion. "Sharp? For what?"He ran a hand over his face; his eyes were tired but resolute. "For when we escape. We're trapped now, but we can't be helpless. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here, but when that door opens… we need to be able to run. Fast. We lose 11% of muscle mass after ten days of not exercising, that's dangerous in this situation."The weight of it all hung between them, placing a thickness on the silence. Laura swallowed hard and nodded."So, it would be a good idea if I joined you… for training?"Travis's face softened, but his eyes had a hint of seriousness to them. "It'd be helpful. I don't want to drag you around the forest when the time comes."Laura shook her head slightly. A tiny smile played on the features of her face. "But you need to take it easy. Your wounds aren't fully healed yet, and we don't have endless supplies.""You're a doctor," he pointed out, almost as if to reassure himself."An animal doctor." She rolled her eyes, and couldn't help but let out a dry laugh. "And I didn't even get to start training, thanks to some asshole who locked me up for two months and then invited me for dinner with his fucked up family who put me in a second permanent lockdown.""You trespassed on private property, there was no invitation."“Through your illegal moonshine tunnels, hunting for what was supposed to be a fictional creature," she snapped back. "Which side are you on, anyway?"Travis sighed, rolling his eyes in return. They both knew the lines between sides had blurred long ago.Laura's head jerked suddenly, her eyes locking on the empty cage beside them. "There was another werewolf in here when I first got to this room. What happened to that? It wasn't here when we were put here."Travis stood, his aching body stretching. "Scoot over." She moved, making space on the bed as he sat beside her, pointing down the corridor. "It probably slipped out when the power went off. There's a possible escape route through the moonshine room—there's a broken window, small but high up. It could work as an exit if we get our chance to get there.”Her eyes slitted, thoughtful. "You're telling me the doors will open if the power goes out?" He nodded. "Does that happen often? Could it be our chance?"Travis frowned. "Maybe once, but Pa wouldn't make the same mistake twice. There's probably a generator now. Ma makes sure things like that don't happen again.”Laura was already thinking ahead. "For the sake of argument, let's say the doors open. How do we get out?"Travis bit his lip, getting up and pacing once more in the small space. "There's the corridor with the barrels. Leads to storage, where the window is. After that, we run. If Pa's truck is there, we can take it. Bobby always keeps a spare key under the driver's seat.""And if the truck's not there? We're just supposed to run around the woods toward the fucking sunrise?""We'd head southeast. But… it won't be easy. If they haven't killed Silas yet, the place will be full of traps and cameras.""Who's Silas?" The question from Laura was like a wrench in Travis's mental gears. His body stiffened, his expression shutting down."Come on, Travis, you're still keeping things from me? Now?"He heaved a deep sigh before he sat back down beside her. "Chris wasn't the first werewolf.""So Max—""Let me explain," he cut her off a bit too sharply. It was obvious this conversation was taking more than he had at the moment. This was the first time he was telling the secret of his family to a stranger. A stranger that killed—or helped to kill—most of it. "Max would have been cured after Chris's death, but he was not the first. Caleb was the first—Chris's son—and then his sister. Chris got bitten last, trying to help them.""Silas was the one biting Caleb," Laura commented when Travis got momentarily silent. He nodded. "Who is Silas? How it happened?”Travis made a painful face, but told the whole story: about the forest and the fair, Caleb and Kaylee, the fire, Eliza Vorez, leaving Chris his kids emotionally scarred, Kaylee completely dependent on her grandma, creating a bond that was now broken.Laura listened without interrupting too much, asking questions when possible, and making sure she understood what Travis was telling her, never pressing him into closing himself up again. Then she remembered."An old woman," she whispered."What?""When Max and I had the accident, there was an old woman in the woods. I first thought we hit her, but she was just following us and whispering Silas' name.""That's impossible.""I did. Travis, I did. I heard her too in the station, she was the one that lured me where the silver—" she frowned. "Is she a ghost?""At this point, I don't think it would take me much to believe in ghosts." He passed his hands through his face in a tired desperation."So is your family still hunting Silas?" Laura couldn't find a way to phrase the question without bringing up the fact that, at this juncture, it was rather pointless to break the curse. Travis nodded."That's something I discussed with Bobby over lunch; they're still after him because it was our family that set him free, and he's still out there killing and infecting people. And animals. That can come and bite our asses very soon being so close to home. Six years, and we were so close this last full moon.""Why didn't you tell me then when I was in that cell at the station? You could have at least said something to me about Silas and I wouldn't have tried to kill Chris. I would have help you with the white wolf.""You're the first damn person I've told half of what I told anybody. I was just trying to keep my family situation as subtle as I could for the shit that was going to come once all was over." "What shit?"Travis did a sad laugh, nervous.“What the hell do you think? The killings? All the kidnappings? I was going to take care of my family until the end, but when you both were free, you and Max would probably have put me in jail. I didn't want you to know anything about my family, either, so they wouldn't have to go through all this, they would have no involvement. I didn't want to get my brothers or my nephews in danger.""You thought we were going to turn you in after we helped you?" she frowned."Oh I knew you would. I drugged and kidnapped you and your boyfriend for two months. I disposed of your car and any proof you had been in the area. I tampered with evidence. I was going to prison one way or another."“Well, you weren't wrong there," she said, making a fake smile with full teeth, looking around them to point out that they were indeed in an actual cell."Yeah, well, I thought there would be a trial first. Made it a bit more official." He disinflated with a sigh.At that, she could not help but have a small puff of laughter escape her. They remained silent for a little while longer, something Travis realized was too much to handle with Laura, seeming like the kind of person who most of the time needed full human interaction. Probably his decision of keeping her in a lonely cell for months away from her boyfriend was a bit of fault for her need to keep constant contact.“Do you think we can plan something for the next moon?" Travis thought about an answer for a second."It would be the best and worst time. Best, because the house would be empty but for my mother. But my dad and Bobby would be out hunting a very angry werewolf, probably with the truck, so we would need to run through the forest at night, at full moon and with no weapons or werewolf blood to protect us.""We can hide somewhere here until the next morning and then grab the truck when they are asleep.""That could help, if we are sure they are not going to check the cells before going to bed. But we will need a map of the grounds so that I can show you exactly where everything is and in which direction to head; I will ask Bobby for something to write the next time he comes by. A map would be too obvious, and I doubt my parents will willingly give it away, but a notebook would be a little more inconspicuous."Then they shared a bit about their lives—mostly Laura— and about dreams, her career, and her family. It tore her a bit, just having to think about her mom, leaving Travis a bit awkward since he didn't know how to comfort her. He went on autopilot to police training, treating her like a crime victim or witness. He nodded silently while giving a reassuring touch on her shoulder. This was weird for Laura at first, seeing this demeanor; she knew very well by then, though, that attempts at physical contact by Travis were well-meant. He wasn't being creepy, just a very awkward person trying to be, somehow, helpful.Before they realized, they had been talking for hours. Their conversation was cut short by the return of Bobby. He came back with a bag of toilet paper and a plastic bottle of water. Travis moved to the cell door to take them, then handed the toilet paper to Laura so she could take it to the other cell.They exchanged a few words, and Laura quickly noticed how badly the loss of his family and his brother's incarceration weighed on Bobby. The interaction ended with Bobby staring down at the floor before he finally turned to leave."Hey Bobby," Travis suddenly said, remembering one last thing from the list of utilities he had requested his brother bring for them. "Next time, could you bring us a notebook and a pen?"Bobby scrunched his face in a frown. "Why would you need that?Laura, who had just stepped back into their cell, strode over to Travis, wrapping her arms around his chest, pressing herself against him. She felt him immediately tense warily. But she didn't break her gaze from Bobby as she said in a sultry, hushed voice:“Because we want to keep count of how many times your brother fucks me every day. I keep losing count." She bit her lip and raised one of her legs to rest against Travis's belly teasingly.Bobby's eyes went wide with horror as he stuttered, "I—I'm gonna ask Ma," before turning around and bolting out of the room. Travis' ears burned, and he shot Laura a look of utter disbelief stepping away from her as she began to laugh."Don't—don't do that!" he stuttered, flustered. "Why would you say that to him?"“Because now he's going to run to mommy and tell her we're doing exactly what she wants us to do. Obviously,” she turned around with a shrug, going back to lie down in the bed. "Obviously," he groused. "Little warning next time, maybe?""No promises," she said, smirking.Travis growled, exasperated.Not long afterward, Bobby returned with the array of toiletries Travis had requested: toothpaste and toothbrushes, a reloaded first-aid kit, soap, and a bucket of murky water."Don't drink it," Travis told Laura with a very serious expression. "This is for washing and cleaning. This is an old house, if you don't boil or filter the water it's not safe to drink it.”Bobby also left them a small black notebook and a couple of pens. He set it all down at the door and closed afterwards, walking away without a word. He made sure to not to look directly at Laura—she took it as a win, however small. Travis's ears were a deep red color as he stood by, watching his brother leave.From the moment Travis got his hands on the pen, he grabbed his discarded police torch and began sketching out escape plans. They sat on a narrow bed side by side as he outlined in detail a map of the surroundings, locating traps, camera locations, and lookout points. His expression was serious and stern. He also reserved one page for counting days and current dates. Full moons—he wrote. Just for Laura to take the notebook from his hands and mark a second date on his calendars. He asked with a look of puzzlement in his face and she merely whispered, "my period." He let it be. In moments like these, Laura did see the cop in him—relentless, thorough, unwilling to leave anything to chance. He answered all her questions, detailing the best routes to safety and possible scenarios for escape."If you can't make it to the truck," he said, drawing his finger in a line, "head south toward the highway. Follow that until you reach North Kill or flag down a vehicle. But don't come out of hiding until you see who's driving it. Don't show up unless you're positive it isn't my family driving. Here, I'll list out the plates of all our current working cars."They went through all the dangers around the lake and the sharp wires tangling within it, the hiding places, traps and the web of cameras. The ultimate danger, at full moon, was the werewolf and possibly newly infected ones. Laura felt the description of these beasts' strength and evilness make the situation fall upon her chest."You have to commit it all to memory," Travis said, more patient, when she frowned and asked why she couldn't keep a copy of the map. "If they find so much as a thread of this on you… it's over. And, more importantly, in the heat of an escape, you might lose it or not have time to read it. Keep it here." He tapped her temple lightly, his voice serious.And so, they developed a routine. Every day, he made her repeat the routes, the trails, and the hiding places till it had been carved in her brain and she could repeat them even in her deepest sleep. He filled the notebook with layouts of the house, the property, the campground, and everything about his family members: their strengths, their weaknesses, and preferred ways of combat.“Bobby's strong, military-trained in close combat," Travis had said one afternoon, his voice low. "He relies on brute strength, but he's not too fast on his feet. Prefers knives or anything that lets him get in close but he is still good with a gun. If he is apparently unarmed, run, if he is armed, hide.""And your father?" Laura asked.Travis furrowed his brow, his jaw clenched. "Pa's dangerous with a gun, but he's too old to chase you. If you see him coming at you running, he's probably out of bullets or wants to make you suffer a little longer. Keep your distance."Their talking veered between strategy and personal stories, but it wasn't all talk. In that near space they had, Travis started physically training her, too. They sparred, training in close combat moves, blocking techniques, and holds. She honed her reflexes and speed, but Travis wasn't at full strength yet, his injuries from her werewolf form still healing, and it affected his movements. He winced at times, his body ached when they sparred, and there were times when Laura needed to change his bandages because they got bloodied. Still, he fought through it, always exhorting her to give it her best. What Laura could not help but notice was that whatever Travis taught her, it was never an attack move; it was always defense. He was teaching her how to free herself from any compromising position rather than hurting his family.It became another point of contention between them. One day, after an especially grueling session, Laura confronted him."Why won't you teach me to fight back?" she said exasperated, breathing hard, her muscles aching.“Because they're armed, and you're not. If—no, when they pull a gun on you, you can't fight back." Travis's stare was tough and unyielding. "You'll never be quicker than a bullet, kid. You do whatever it takes to survive in that moment, understand? Comply, play along… until you see an opening. Then, you run and hide until you can't see them anymore. But do not engage.”Laura swallowed as his words hit home. It made sense, but it didn't make it any easier to swallow.The first attempt at escape was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, an instant decision to run for it when Bobby opened the door to bring them food. She hadn't thought it through, and that showed: no sooner had she launched herself at the gap than Bobby reacted with surprising quickness. He yanked her back with one massive arm, pinning her against his chest. Travis rushed forward, barking out orders to his brother to let her go, but he didn't have to. Bobby released her, his face pale and frown deepen."Don't… don't do that again," Bobby muttered, stepping away from her like she'd burned him.The instant Bobby disappeared, Travis whirred on Laura, his face dark, serious. "You can't just run like that. You got to think it through. You might have gotten hurt.""Yeah, well, I'd rather be hurt than stuck in here forever," she returned, her chest heaving with adrenaline. "I can't just sit around and do nothing.”Travis's jaw clenched, frustration flashing across his face. "Next time, if you're going to try something like that, I want you to use your head.""Well fuck you, dude. While I was doing all the real work, you're just sitting on your ass!”“Because I'm still fucking injured!” he exploded, his anger boomeranging off cold walls. It was so uncharacteristic, yet for one telling moment, Laura saw just how much her words had hurt. The intensity of it silenced her, her bravado faltering. Travis breathed, hoping to stop his escalating frustration. "I'm still hurt. I can't take on Bobby like this without making it worse. And if I make it worse now, it'll delay any real chance we have of getting out of here. You need to improve, and I need to get better. But we need time.”The weight of his words settled heavy between them, and Laura's defiance faltered. "We don't have time," she whispered, her voice breaking.Travis nodded, catching the fear in her, solid in his resolution. "But that's all we can do for now. That's all I can do for now.”He softened his gaze, the tension in his shoulders easing somewhat. "We're in this together. We'll find a way out, but we have to be smart about it."As she looked into his eyes, the reality of their situation crashed over her like a wave, and for the first time, she saw how it was taking its own toll on him, too.Days went by, honing her approach. He showed her how to shift her weight, how to position herself to dodge a grab, and how to feint and misdirect. When Bobby came with more food, she gave it a try. This time, when he reached to grab her, she managed to slip past his grasp in time and made it a good two steps closer to the door before he cut her off. Quicker than she expected, his face masked with guilt and determination as he forced her back. Still Travis kept on teaching her what he could, making her do push-ups, squats, and anything that could keep their bodies strong and ready but still very slow and with sometimes somber expression of pain when one of Laura's sparrings hit somewhere near his wounds. Even then he never ordered her to stop trying, giving her knowledge to improve on her defense. Every time he showed Laura some new defensive maneuver, it twisted his stomach into knots. She needed to learn, Travis knew. Yet every session reminded him of how he'd failed her in the first place. Every time she hit the floor, he saw the red in her eyes—the rage he hadn't been able to stop that had put her in this position.The frustration mounted with each failure. It wasn't only the confines of the cage that gnawed at her, but the weight of failure after failure, and the nagging feeling that with each failure, she was disappointing Travis too. "Am I even learning anything?" she asked one night, slumped against the bed frame after another day of fruitless attempts."Yes," Travis said softly. "You're learning. Every time, a little better. You're past Bobby's first guard three times now. You're quicker, sharper. You're thinking, not just reacting. That's the difference between survival and… not.""But it's never enough," she whispered as her eyes began to prick with tears. "I never get away."Travis was silent for a long time, before reaching out, laying his hand on her shoulder in an awkward manner. "You will. You just gotta wait for the right moment and for my help once I'm healed. And when that comes, you'll be ready."Days came and went, possibly even weeks—it was impossible to say.Without sunlight or clocks, the passage of time melted together into a vague, fuzzy block of sameness. Bobby continued to bring food and toiletries, but never razors. Travis's salt-and-pepper beard had grown coarse and scraggly. It itched incessantly, but all things considered, that was the least of their concerns. Bathroom conditions were far worse, for instance. The single toilet in the corner of their cell was all they had. Every time Laura felt the urge to use it, she cringed into her humiliation. Travis would turn away then, often humming softly-old country tunes, or lyrics she didn't recognize, anything to ease the discomfort and retain whatever shreds of dignity she had left. The soft, gravelly tone was weirdly soothing; a small comfort in a suffocating situation. At least Travis made sure it got emptied every day when Bobby brought the food, making it a tracking point to calculate time. It was a ritual, a small way to retain some semblance of control in their deplorable reality. They got a chance to put up a small clothesline to help dry their clothes after each wash, which took an eternity to happen since the basement was a dark damp space. The ventilation and the moisture settings of the cage helped with this problem in a certain way but the fabric ended up with a humid and moldy smell. Nothing that they could do to avoid it.Sprinklers, set off under Jedediah's orders, drenched them and the 'toilet' cell altogether. Despite how they had tried to make do with sponge baths with the use of the bucket of water, they couldn't get away from the humiliating showers. The Hacketts had decided that they needed routinary sprinkle cleans for hygienic purposes, but the fact that counted as a humiliation and torture device on them played a second role. Bobby sprang through it with a display of obvious unease and then disappeared to let them change to new dry clothes in silence. Laura always felt less than human when it was over. Despite all this, they never gave up on their will to escape. But boredom settled in like a heavy fog.Bobby's sporadic visits, mainly sliding trays of homemade stew or broth through the doors, only punctuated their days of monotony. Food was simple, always something that one used a spoon for, avoiding sharp utensils. If there was a meat dish included in that day's food plan, they were forced to use their hands. They ate in silence, exchanging sometimes a glance speaking of mutual frustration. Bobby rarely spoke, and when he did hang around the door, his uncertainty over whether he was wanted caused tension to blossom. Laura saw Travis stiffen every time it happened, and Bobby would just turn and walk away, still mute. For the two of them, at least, there was no such thing as time; the monotony chewed away their bones. They discussed and rehashed the same topics: escape routes, what-ifs, a rundown of their family dynamics—until there literally was nothing left to be said.They even found common interests, such as old classic fantasy and horror movies, but those did little to take up the time. Travis's old watch had stopped after the fight with Bobby; its hands were eternally frozen at 3:15. There was no light to determine how much time had passed, other than the oppressive, ever-present crimson glow of the cell. "I'm tired of thinking," Laura grumbled one afternoon as she lay on the cold floor, staring at the cracked ceiling. "I just want to be out there, feeling the sun, the rain… anything." The words tasted of desperation. Of course, it was not only the bars that confined her but what they did to her mind.She slept, and her dreams were of freedom: running through cool waters, the warmth of the sun upon her skin, or rain down her face as she stood in the open.She dreamed of running through trails of green wild grass in the deep loud woods. But she woke to the same grim reality all the time: the stench of sweat, the silence of the basement, and the dark red glow of their prison. It was the ever-present shadow of Travis that was her only company, her former jailer now transmogrified into her only human interaction. Despite the training sessions, Travis grew restless too. He masked well, but Laura could notice frustration behind his eyes, the way his jaw would clench each time Bobby appeared. The tension in the air between them grew thicker with each passing day. "We're running out of time," Travis would grumble when their eyes met during their incessant drills.Even his meticulous planning could not quash this deep ache in Laura's heart to be free.She wanted the wind on her skin, the earth beneath her feet, and the freedom that was so close and yet so far. Now all she could do was wait for the opportunity and pray that when the time came, everything Travis had taught her would be enough. But, damn it, if she could have just a book-something to stave off the insanity. The notebook they had was barely readable under their dark atmosphere. She suspected that was why Travis was pushing her to memorize their escape plans so fast. The constant red grime of the hellish light reminded them that time was running out, and Laura felt herself hanging by a thread. One day, after an especially grueling training session, Laura felt a change in him. He was getting faster, flinching less as he moved."Let me see your bandages," she whispered, her tone full of concern and hope. Laura watched as Travis gingerly removed the left side of his hoodie and raised the sleeve of his right arm, taking care not to jostle the bandages that crossed his wounds. It had been days since she'd tended the deep gashes she'd inflicted on him in her monstrous form. She remembered well how he hadn't fought back. He'd let her attack him, even when she knew he could have easily killed her with the mirror. Everything had been a blur when she had transformed, but when she came back he was badly hurt, with a makeshift weapon on his hand, but she had remained unwounded. "Let me see," she whispered, and the guilt in her voice was thick as she reached for the gauze. The bandages were tinted brown and peeling at the edges. They needed changing, and she knew it was overdue to check if his wounds had closed properly. He didn't argue, just stood quietly, his shoulders hunched a little. She could feel the tension rising off him as she unwrapped the fabric wrapped around his torso. With every layer that fell away, more of his skin was exposed, the crisscrossing marks still there but—thankfully—no longer raw and bleeding. As she finally worked the last piece free, her breath caught.The wounds were entirely closed now, but faint, raised scars marked where her claws had raked across his chest and her fangs grabbed his arm. She reached out, her hand hovering above one of the marks almost as though afraid to touch him."They've healed," she whispered, and the mix of relief and guilt churned in her chest. "They—they look okay." Her fingertips traced the faded marks with light touches, but it felt like they were burning into her. She'd done this to him, yet he was here teaching her how to survive, teaching her how to escape. The guilt swelled high in her throat, but the gratitude was something for which she couldn't find the words."Yeah," Travis said softly, his eyes cast down on himself. "Didn't think they'd heal that fast." He paused, then added, "Thanks to you, though.”Laura shook her head. "You shouldn't have let me hurt you like that," she whispered, her fingertips brushing over the smooth skin near a particularly deep scar on his arm. The memory was still emblazoned in her mind — blood soaking through the cloth when she'd first bandaged him, the way he winced but never made a sound. "I could've—”"Could've done worse," he interrupted, his tone even. "But you didn't." He leaned over to regard her, eyes tenderizing. "You helped me after, remember? Kept these from getting infected."She bit her lip, placing her palm gingerly on his chest where three parallel scars ran across his left pectoral. They were smooth under her fingertips, yet she knew they would always be there—visible reminders of what she'd done."They're gonna remain huge scars," she said softly, her voice quivering as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I didn't…I didn't know it'd be that bad once healed."Travis's eyes dropped to the floor, and he shrugged lightly. "Don't worry about it. I have plenty already." He tugged the hoodie up a little further on his right side and gestured vaguely to the other faded marks on his skin, old wounds she hadn't noticed before—small white-clear lines and puncture marks that were almost invisible unless you really looked. "These are just more to add to the collection.”Laura looked up into his face then to read his expression. It was usually like staring at a brick wall: solid, unwavering, and shut down. The scars didn't seem to bother him, or if they did, he concealed it well enough that she couldn't show it to her."Doesn't it bother you?" she said hesitantly. "That I did this to you?”"No," he replied firmly, his eyes locked on hers. "You didn't do it. The werewolf did. If I blamed you for those it would mean I had to blame—" He paused and then added, "And it's not like it's the worst I've had."Laura frowned, her fingers still tracing the edge of a scar. "How can you just say that? It is bad, Travis. I did this to you.”“Not on purpose,” he whispered. “And you saved me afterwards.” A ghost of a smile played across his lips. “You even made sure I stayed bandaged up properly and all. Wouldn't let me move too much or strain myself.”“I had to,” Laura whispered back, recalling nights passed changing dressings, checking for infection, willing the wounds to heal faster.Travis shifted, tagging his hoodie back up over his shoulders, his movements still guarded. "Yeah, well… thanks," he said quietly, finally meeting her gaze again. "You did good."It was almost too much—the casual way he accepted what had happened, the readiness with which he played down everything as though it wasn't significant. Yet she knew better. She had seen the pain in his eyes, felt the tremors in his body as she'd cleaned the wounds, heard the hitch in his breath whenever she pressed too hard during the training."Why don't you care more?" she finally whispered, the question slipping out before she could stop it. "It's like you're… used to it."Travis looked away and sighed. "Been through a lot before all this. You don't get to be sheriff in North Kill without earning a few of these. Plus hunting a werewolf for years while having to deal with three more in my own house."Laura felt the very weird tangle of gratitude and resentment. Gratitude for his help, for the skills he was teaching her. But resentment, too, that he knew all these things because of what he'd been through, because of a past that still haunted him in more ways than one."Travis… I—”"Don't," he interrupted softly. "I'm training you so you can get out. That's it. I'll be fine." He said it with such finality, such certainty that she almost believed him. Almost.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Laura laid on the narrow bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while Travis paced the cell. His gaze was keen and cut through every inch of concrete wall and surroundings. He never once touched metal to the bars but kept his distance as he examined the bolts and hinges of the framing around the door, his movements methodical and deliberate. But all the cells wouldn't get fully electrified until all the doors were closed, so keeping that door open would break the electric circuit. Still, he made it very clear that they shouldn't get comfortable touching the metal in case they forget that it might turn dangerous in any second. Travis moved with sure steps, his mind going at every angle, every possible weak spot in the cell. His hands were in his pockets; he didn't trust them to stay still. Every few moments, he turned back to Laura, reassuring himself that she was there, that she was safe. It was a suffocating weight of responsibility, but he could show no signs of that.After weeks of being stuck together, Laura knew nothing about him. There was something beneath Travis's gruff, rough exterior that she couldn't grasp. Something hidden that has been slipping out of her reach.He wasn't simply a small-town sheriff caught up in his family's twisted business. He was calculated, strategic—more dangerous. And it unnerved her. It was more apparent now that his injuries and the incarceration shock had not been holding him back. He was back to full strength now, completely healed and sharp. That seemed to make his brain work differently, more like a hunter and less like an injured prey. "You know," she started softly, drawing his attention. He stopped, turning back to her. The brows furrowed together. "You seem… comfortable doing that. It's not just a cop thing, is it?""Doing what?" he asked, frowning more deeply."Inspecting everything like you're preparing for battle," she clarified, gesturing vaguely around the cell. "You act like someone who's trained to find weaknesses and set up ambushes. You move like you're expecting a fight."He let out a deep sigh-the heavy sound reverberated in the small space. For a moment, he looked older than she'd ever seen him, the lines around his eyes deepening as if the weight of his past was weighing him down. Laura leaned up onto one elbow, watching him closely."I was in the military before I became a cop," he said quietly, his voice low. "Joined right out of high school. Infantry. Did a few tours before I came back." He shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze as he continued. "When Kaylee was born, I left. Her mom—Chir's wife— died in childbirth. I felt Chris needed me at home and I didn't want to be a soldier anymore. Family is the most important thing in the world and when Chris had his I wanted to be part of it. So I joined the local police.”Laura blinked, digging through the information. The pieces began to fall into place, the memories of their earlier encounters replaying in her head—how effortlessly he'd blocked her strikes, how he managed to pin her down in that holding cell at the police station despite her putting everything she had into keeping him off her. She was certain she had the advantage of surprise back then, but he moved like a man who expected an attack, one who had been so well-trained that he would know precisely what she'd do.“Military-trained," she muttered, her voice low. "Like your dad… and Bobby.”He nodded reluctantly. "Affirmative.”There was a bitter edge to that, something raw and unhealed in there. He had told her bits and pieces before—mostly gleaned from how his father had drilled him and Bobby from a young age for something more. But she hadn't realized just how deep those scars went."So when the old sheriff died in the fire…" she began softly, not wanting to push too hard, yet needing to understand. "That's how you ended up in charge?"The lines on Travis's face hardened and his jaw clenched."Sheriff Miller, Hank… He was a good man. And he knew how to handle the… complications around here. After he died, no one else knew what to do. I took the role because someone had to keep order, keep this place from falling apart. And because—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening as he shook his head. "Because I thought I could control things. I thought I could protect Chris, keep the kids safe." Travis's voice shook for a moment, and Laura saw the cracks in his stoic mask. His eyes darkened under the weight of years of failure, his jaw clenching so tightly she thought it might break. "But I failed them. And now. I don't know how to fix it." Laura's face relaxed. He seemed more beaten now than she had ever seen, as though he'd harbored this guilt for way too long. She opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but he turned away before the words could fall off her lips, his eyes fixed upon the floor."That's why you're so good at this," she said softly, waving her hand around the cell again. "It's not just because you're a cop."He let out a short, humorless laugh. "Guess I can't turn it off. Even when I want to."She watched him in silence, a new understanding dawning. How well he had deflected her attacks, how facile he was at anticipating hers, how he foresaw with ruthless accuracy every avenue of retreat that might be used… Small wonder half her efforts ended with her pinned or restrained before she knew what had happened.“You stopped every one of my attacks back at the station," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "I thought I was being sneaky, thought I had the upper hand… but you shut me down every time."He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck."You were reckless. Didn't have a plan, didn't think it through. If you want to survive, you need more than guts. You need strategy. You have to be ten steps ahead of who's coming after you. You only finally beat me that one time, because you actually planned and put some thought into it, sedating me. That was smart. That's how we'll get out of here.”Her heart clenched at the truth in his words. He wasn't saying this to make her feel weak or incompetent—he was preparing her. Preparing her for when she had to face his family. Alone."Is that why you're training me now?" she asked quietly. "Because you think I can get out of this if I have a good enough plan?”Finally, he turned to her and locked eyes steadily with hers; his intense stare seemed to pin her down. "I know you can. If you're smart. If you don't let your emotions get the best of you."She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. He wasn't coddling her with false hope or sugarcoating anything. If there was any way out of this nightmare, it was going to be through utter will, strategy, and the skills he taught her. Still, something else he had said nagged at her."You left the military to be with your family," she said slowly, piecing it together. "But then your family dragged you right back into this… war. And now you're trapped in it again."His eyes darkened, the muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. He didn't respond, but she saw the truth in his silence.He'd never really escaped. He'd just traded one battlefield for another.“I'm sorry," she whispered, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could smother them. "I'm so fucking sorry you're caught up in this, too. It's not fair."He shook his head, waving off the apology. "Don't be. Just… get out when you can. And don't look back.”"I’m not going anywhere without you," Laura said, her voice quivering in conviction. She looked at him, really did look at him, and for the first time then, she realized they needed each other; he was not just her protector anymore, but her partner in this hellhole, and she would go nowhere without him. Nobody was left behind.His lips parted, as if he wanted to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he just nodded slowly, his features softening."Alright," he whispered. "We get out together."Laura nodded, her chest closing with the determination of what would be done. Whatever happened, whatever lay in store, she would fight. Because now she knew exactly what kind of training was backing her up—and she wasn't going to let him down.Laura turned away from Travis, staring up at the ceiling as the weight of their reality bore down on her. All along, he'd been training her—teaching her routes, building her strength—but the plans had always been about her and never them. He never included himself in the means of escape. Every tactic was for one person; just her.She knew why. No matter how dangerous things got, his family wouldn't turn on him. He was one of them. But if she didn't make it out, then she'd be the one who would be in danger. That's why he focused on her survival, accepting he'd be left behind.But Laura refused to accept it. If Travis thought she'd just run and leave him to face his family alone, he was wrong. She wasn't going anywhere without him.Now that Travis was healed, they got to some serious planning, using Bobby's nature against them. Now, with Travis back to full strength for the first time, their chances felt like they were in their favor. They would escape together—or not at all.But another thought struck her several days after Travis proved his full recovery, after a round of hard sparring—a realization that made her heart sink.It's only been a few weeks, she remembered. Not even long enough for her to have had a period. Constance's twisted plan to keep her locked up, hoping for grandkids, hadn't yet been thwarted by nature. But it was coming. In no time, the absence of any pregnancy would be evident, and when that would be the case… Constance would be furious. Laura found Travis subtly different since she had taken off his bandages, no more holding back in their sparring sessions — his movements smooth and sure, a controlled power in every gesture and movement; an intentness that wasn't there earlier. He was healed now, stronger, sharper than she had ever seen him.But there has been something off about Travis lately, some underlying friction that had started to seep into every movement and word. At first, it was little things: eyes darting toward the cell door whenever Bobby approached, or the sudden silence as his jaw clenched tight, holding back words he could not afford to say.His focus during drills became relentless.He would time her escapes to the second, having her repeat movements until her limbs felt like lead. He barely slept but instead paced the narrow space of their cell and muttered under his breath over and over, detailing the routes of their escape. The air was thick with tension, heavy with a burden of urgency that mounted day after relentless day. He watched her with a sharp, almost calculating gaze, as if waiting for something beyond his control. He didn't offer any more breaks anymore, almost as if he was scared to lose one single second that might be the dividing line between life and death. Laura sensed that something was coming, but she hadn't the vaguest idea until this dull ache in her abdomen seriously sharpened and became cramping pain. Since the pain had first arisen, she had thought it a soreness from their relentless training; now, though, as the cramps spread, the truth hit with full force—she was getting her period.Cold dread trickled through her. She had always known this was going to happen, that one day her body was going to make its presence known. But the timing simply could not have been much worse. As the wetness began to seep into her sweatpants, she realized she could no longer hide it.She gritted her teeth, trying to sit as still as possible on the bed. Travis leaned against the far wall, studying the rough sketch he'd drawn of the basement layout. When he finally looked up to find her hunched over, his eyebrows furrowed. "You okay?" he asked suspiciously. He had been watching her a little too closely over the last few days to miss something like that.Laura forced a smile, nodding quickly. "Yeah, just sore from training. I'm fine."But his gaze lingered on her, studying her too intently. "Laura…" His voice was softer now, tinged with concern. "If something's wrong, you need to tell me.""Nothing's wrong," she snapped, harsher than intended. She saw the hurt in his eyes and immediately regretted it, but there was simply no way to let him find out—not yet.Hours crawled by, her misery escalating as the cramping increased. Travis had watched every wince and squirm, his eyes slitting in suspicion."Something's off," he whispered that night, laying aside his notebook. He crossed the cell and hunched before her, peering into her face. "What aren't you telling me?""Dude, I'm fine," she lied, but even to her ears, it sounded hollow.Without warning, Travis reached for her hand, pulling it away from her stomach. "Show me," he said, his voice even, cool, yet with some sort of concentrated fear behind. And then Laura hesitated, heart pounding, as there was no hiding it anymore. Slowly she rose to her feet, turning so he could see the dark stain spreading on her sweatpants.Travis froze. His face went pale. He stared at the blood, eyes widening. "Sh—it," he said in a low, dead voice. "Is that—?""It's my period," Laura replied, and the plainness of her flat, emotionless voice made it all too real. "I'm not hurt. But it's worse."Travis wasn't relieved. His gaze sharpened, weighted with the feeling of a long calculation. "This is definitely not good news.”Travis leapt to his feet, running a hand through his hair, and his entire body became taut. He resumed pacing. "Ma's been keeping watch for sure… waiting for proof that I haven't… that I— we are not doing what she wants."Laura's heart skipped a beat. She could already see the route his thoughts were taking."We gotta think this through," she said urgently. "We can wash the sheets, hide it, and—”"No," Travis said, the word slicing her off, his voice constrained. He didn't freak out, but his gaze flashed toward the door, mind already racing ahead to formulate a plan. "We need to deal with this quietly," he muttered, pacing the small space. “We have to stay one step ahead of her." Laura watched as he spoke, her heart racing."You really think she's keeping track?'"He paused, his eyes locking with hers in grim certainty."You bet she is. She wants her grandchildren and she is not getting any younger."A chill ran down her spine. He was right. Constance was nothing if not obsessive. She'd been waiting for something—anything—that proved Travis had followed her twisted plan. And this was the proof she'd been waiting for his defiance."We have to go," he said suddenly, his voice barely contained. "Tonight."Laura's head spun, her hands cold from fear. "Are we ready? I still can't even—""We must." His voice cracked and then in an instant turned soft. "I'm sorry… I just… I won't be able to keep you safe if she thinks we've lied. She'll freak out, and I don't know what she might do."Laura met his gaze, her heart pounding, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the full weight of how trapped they truly were. Laura looked at him with deeply intent, then gave him one of those sharp smiles."Fuck yes, let's do it.”And with that, the matter was settled.He went back to take Bobby’s role at the next sparring, hulking after her in mock attacks while Laura darted away out of reach, their twisted version of hide-and-seek.But it wasn't just running. It was pushing their limits, finding Bobby’s weak points and gaps in his movements, learning how to slip through his grasp without hurting herself. But the problem was that no matter how quick, no matter how agile she was, Bobby was simply stronger. There was no overpowering him by brute force; it had to be a surprise, exploiting his trust, split-second distractions. But the sparring didn’t end well. She'd snapped at him in a fit of irritation, exhaustion, and hormones boiling over, lashing out when he corrected her stance for the umpteenth time. Travis had gone quiet after that, giving her space, and not long after he had stated they should rest rather than pushing themselves too hard since that would only drain them before the real fight.They were both standing at the opposite ends of their cell now, staring out to the hallway outside.The gnawing feeling of hunger in their stomachs was a painful reminder of the time and of the upcoming meal delivery, which marked the next step in their plan. Laura couldn't help glancing at Travis from the corner of her eye. He looked like a man standing at the edge, his silver and pepper beard and hair gave him a harsh, aged appearance, and the dark circles under his eyes were so deep it looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Yet despite that, his body was taut, coiled into the strength born from desperation. The tension on his shoulder was subtle, but she knew that it was there, that he was ready, if needed, to snap into action any moment. Footfalls came echoing down the corridor; Laura straightened and swallowed the constriction in her throat. Travis turned slightly, his gaze catching hers in a small nod. She forced herself to breathe in deeply and relax. She stepped forward, out of the wall into the center of the cell.It wasn't long before Bobby filled the doorway, his huge frame casting a shadow over the room. Laura's heartbeat spiked, but she plastered a tired smile on her face, faking impatience for form. "Fuck me, finally. I'm starving!""Hey, Bobby," Travis said calmly from his position near the door.“Hey Travis. Ma went to the markets yesterday and she got some mushrooms, so she tossed them in this week's stew." Bobby said it like he was discussing a holiday dinner, his voice rumbling deep enough Laura's nerves jumped.Travis raised his eyebrows, faking savory enjoyment of the smell in the air. "Any dessert today?" he asked, faking interest too as his fingers twitched at his sides."You know that Ma doesn't think you deserve dessert yet," Bobby replied with a sympathetic shrug. Travis nodded, keeping his face carefully blank, but she could see the nervous tension rolling off him in waves.Bobby balanced the two trays in one massive hand, fumbling for the switch that powered the cells. The familiar unlocking of the cell Laura's muscles tense, every fiber of her being screaming at her to act. He held the trays out, and Travis stepped forward, his face a mask of resolve and regret."Sorry, Bobby," he whispered, and in one swift movement, he hunched forward and shoved the trays upward into Bobby's chest. Hot stew spilled everywhere as the scalding liquid made Bobby grunt and stumble backward, momentarily blinded. It was all the opportunity Travis needed.He was off like a shot to Bobby's right, feet pounding the earth as he poured it on. Behind him he heard the sound of Bobby's startled shout, followed by the heavier thud of footsteps as Bobby gave chase. Perfect. Bobby was following him, just like they'd planned. That would leave the way clear for Laura to slip through the other corridor, head for the broken window near the moonshine tunnels, and disappear into the forest. Travis pushed the thought of never seeing her again to the back of his mind. Her freedom meant more than anything else. He'd protect her, even if it meant—A terrified scream rent the air, gluing Travis in his tracks. His heart was pounding in his chest as he turned just in time to see how Bobby turned on his heels and grabbed Laura's hoodie, yanking her back like she was a rag doll."No, let me go, you fucking animal!" Laura wailed; her voice raw with desperation."Bobby, no!" Travis's voice cracked. An immediate panic welled through him as he watched, helpless, while Bobby hoisted Laura into the air and slammed her into the concrete floor with a sickening thud. She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. Travis could see her eyes fluttering, her consciousness slipping away as her body went limp beneath Bobby's massive frame."Bobby!" Travis screamed again, throat raw and mind racing. Laura had moved way too soon and too slow—had been surprisingly easy for Bobby to grab her even if slower than her, he was still a mountain of a man. She should have waited until there was a bit more distance between Bobby and the exit. Now, his weight lay atop her motionless form, and all Travis could do was stand and stare, his chest tight with guilt, a vice that clutched and would not let go.Bobby was looming over her, holding her down, his eyes wide with confusion and regret. Their gazes met, and Travis saw something in Bobby's expression that made his stomach flip—guilt, yes, but fear too, fear of what was expected of him.“Bobby, let her go!" Travis' voice cracked with desperation. The words echoed off cold walls, but Bobby didn't move. Slicked with sweat, his forehead beaded with moisture. He wasn't trying to hurt her, yet his mere size and muscular strength could crush her."I can’t. Ma'll kill me if she leaves." His voice rang with guilt, his plea thick with accusation. He regarded Laura as if she would break, as if he could hardly believe what he was doing. Yet, he could not let her loose. Not with their mother's threat hanging over his head."You're killing her!" Travis's voice was hoarse now, his hands shaking while trying to push Bobby's massive form, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. More when he was worried that being too physical against his brother would make him put even more weight on top of his trapped victim.Bobby didn't budge."Get off her, you're hurting her!” Travis shrieked again, digging his claws into his brother's arms."Get in the cage, Travis and I'll let her go!" Bobby yelled, his voice breaking with the strain. The quaver in his voice was echoed by the shake in his hands with which he held Laura down. Travis saw the battle in Bobby's eyes—he didn't want to do this, but fear of their mother outweighed everything else.“Bobby, look at her!" Travis's voice cracked as his gaze tore down at Laura's limp form. She breathed shallowly, her body eerily still, and he could feel the urgency clawing at his gut. Then he saw a detail; a dark patch of blood was oozing through her pants, staining the dirty fabric red.A wild idea began to take root in Travis's desperate mind, a crazy, stupid lie that could be their only hope for buying some time. "Bobby, you're killing the baby!" he suddenly exclaimed, his shaking finger pointing at the spreading bloodstain. His voice was shaking now, but he plunged ahead, counting on Bobby's simple, trusting nature.Bobby froze, his wide eyes darting to Laura's figure. "The baby?" he echoed, his face crumbling in a wash of shock and confusion. "Oh God—Travis, I didn't mean—” He let go of Laura as if she was burning hot, taking a step, horrified at what he had done.Travis didn't hesitate. In an instant, he was at Laura's side, pulling her into his arms. Limp, barely conscious, her head rolled against his shoulder. "Laura, come on," he whispered thickly, his voice full of panic as he carried her back toward the cell. He had no chance of fighting Bobby like this; neither did any kind of escape exist if he had to haul her unconscious body through the woods. They'd get caught before they made it to the yard."Laura?" he whispered, laying her down on the mattress. He was reaching for a pulse with shaking fingers— there it was. He touched the back of her head carefully, feeling for any signs of blood. No gash, only a bump. He breathed out a trembling breath."She's okay," he said to himself. Then he rummaged for the water bottle he had stashed under the bed. He poured a little onto his hand and pressed the cool droplets against her clammy face. Slowly, she stirred. A small whimper escaped her lips."Come on, wake up," he whispered. "Please, wake up."Laura's eyes fluttered open, her gaze foggy with pain. "Fuck… it hurts," she groaned, trying to move but winced as a sharp pain shot through her chest."Don't move," Travis warned, his voice tight with guilt. "Tell me what hurts.""My head… my ribs… can't breathe," she whimpered."Travis, is she okay?" Bobby's voice cut through the moment, still lingering behind the now-closed door. His tone was panicked. "What about the baby?”“Shut the fuck up!" Travis barked out, the anger in his voice as sharp as a whip crack. He couldn't deal with Bobby right now. "Go get a bag of ice from the kitchen. Now!”Bobby hesitated a moment then took off running, anxious to fix what he'd done. The instant he disappeared, Travis spun back to Laura. "He knocked the wind out of you. Probably bruised some ribs." He eased her into a seated position, her head lolled against his shoulder. "You're gonna be okay," he muttered, half to himself.Laura's eyes flickered open once more, latching onto his. "I'm so sorry…" the whispered words tumbled out, weak, but Travis shook his head."No. Don't apologize. This is on me," he breathed, his hands trembled as he held her. He couldn't protect her, not here. Not like this. He peered again under the bed to grab his torch in order to hold her face with one hand.“Open your eyes for me, sweetheart, please," he begged low, the flashlight shaking as he examined her pupils for concussion. They were equal and reactive—thank God. He clicked off the light and tossed it aside, tucking her head against his shoulder again.“I have to check your ribs," he whispered regretfully, his fingers touching her chest hesitantly. She made a positive noise, and he started to palpate—fingers light, yet sure, as he pressed, checking for breaks. Laura winced but didn't utter a sound. How much it hurt was conveyed by the way she clung onto him, digging into his arms for support.The door creaked open, and Bobby stepped in, holding a bag of ice. Travis didn't even look up, he took the ice from his brother and turned his back to him, setting the cold pack on the back of Laura's head."Is she okay?" Bobby's voice was small, childlike and Travis didn't dare turn around.“Yes, Bobby, now go,” he growled low, his teeth gritted, his jaw tensed so the anger was barely contained."But… What about the baby?" Bobby whispered, his voice breaking.Travis felt a surge of anger rise but swallowed it back. "Fuck off, Bobby, or I swear to God."Bobby stepped back a foot, looking at Travis then Laura with an expression like a lost child seeking approval. "I didn't mean to—Travis, I—”“Just go!" Travis snarled. He listened to the sound of Bobby's feet, the door closing softly behind him. Travis blew a shaky breath. His hands were still shaking as he readjusted the ice on Laura's head."What baby?" Laura whispered, her voice weak and confused.Travis let out a mirthless laugh as his eyes squeezed shut and guilt washed over him. "I had to say somethin'. He was going to crush you. I—I couldn't get him off you."Laura reached out weakly, her fingers brushing against his hand. "It's okay. I'm okay.""No, you're not. God, Laura… I'm such an idiot," he whispered hoarse, the emotion impassioning his voice. His eyes were full of agony as he took in her frail form, the pain etched into her face. "You weren't ready. I—I pushed too soon. Fuck. You could've— I'm such a fucking idiot." He was obviously lost for his words on his rambling and self-load.“Stop," she whispered, her fingers clenching hard into his. "You saved me. I'm still here because of you."He shook his head. "I don't know what I'd do if he had—I—God, I'm so sorry. I got scared and I pushed you. We weren't ready.""It’s ok."His chest constricted, his heart wrenching at the words, but he could only nod. "I'll get us out of this. I promise.”"I know," she whispered, her voice filled with pain, but a resolute undertone that clutched at his heart. "We'll make it." Laura fell back into unconsciousness, her breathing ragged and shallow. She was so little, lying there, vulnerable and fragile, scrunched up in pain, even while she slept. Travis's chest contracted at the sight, his fingers brushing soft against her cheek. He couldn't drag his eyes off of her; every breath was both a blessing and a curse. The thin material of her hoodie stirred with each rising and falling of her ribs. He sat beside her, not daring to move or sleep, his entire focus on watching over her. The cell felt darker and more suffocating than usual, the air thick with the stench of sweat and old blood.The only light was that red perpetual dim light that always seemed to be on during their long hours, casting long, eerie shadows that seemed to press in on them.It smelled of damp and mold, faintly lodging in his lungs with every labored breath.Hunched beside Laura, trying to soothe her and assess her injuries, his mind went a mile a minute, each thought colliding into the next. His hands shook against her skin, but his brain just wouldn't quit doing what it was so well-trained to do: calculating and assessing, finding the next move.The room was too small, the cells too close, and Bobby too unpredictable. If they ran now Laura would get only a few feet in her condition. His eyes darted to the corridor. Could they make it past Bobby? And even if they could escape, there was the house, the traps, the cameras. The moonshine tunnels, maybe. But they'd have to move fast.Travis clenched his teeth, pushing back the rising panic. Every scenario played out in the same way: Bobby catches up to them. He's too strong, too fast in small spaces. But his mind had latched onto it: a distraction, that's all they needed. Bobby wasn't the brightest, but he was loyal. If Travis could use that—exploit his confusion and guilt—maybe, just maybe they could make a run for it. A distraction he needed, something to make Bobby hesitate.His mind was a jumbled mess of frantic calculations over every step, every movement. But not yet, he thought, his mind cold with calculation. She's too weak. We'll never make it if she can't run. His heart sank at the thought; frustration burned deep in his chest.But there it was again, that old, accustomed voice in his head. Wait. Watch. There'll be a moment, there always is. And when it comes, we'll be ready. It must have been hours later that he heard the steps again. Travis's muscles tensed, his eyes snapping to the corridor. Bobby was standing there, hulking and awkward with a bunch of rags and a bucket on his hands. The big man shifted uncomfortably on his feet, guilt etched in every line of his face. Then he came closer, starting to clean the mess of food and broken cutlery from the floor.“Travis… I'm sorry," Bobby muttered a minute later, voice low and indistinct. He lifted his head, following Travis' line of vision to Laura's slack face. "I-I don't have any more food. Ma's pissed 'cause of… 'cause of the mess on the floor."Travis merely stared at him, eyes narrowing with suspicion and dread. Bobby's gaze dropped to the ground. He hesitated, swallowing hard. His eyes flickered back up, guilt and fear warring on his face."I… I told Ma about the baby too. I thought… I thought she'd understand or somethin'. But she… she got real mad." Travis felt the blood drain from his face, his stomach twisting painfully. He stared at his brother, barely able to comprehend what he was saying. "You what? You told her about—" He bit his tongue hard, fighting the panic rising in his throat.The lie he'd spun to save Laura now loomed over them like a specter, and Bobby, in his stupid, innocent way, had given it substance."She—she started yellin', Travis," Bobby continued, his voice barely louder than a whisper.Travis's heart ached painfully, a sickening dread settling deep within his bones. Since they lost Kaylee and Caleb—her golden babies—Constance had been consumed with her grief. But this. This was something else. If she wasn't just grieving any longer, if her anger focused on Laura and him…"Jesus, Bobby," Travis whispered, his mouth dry as sandpaper. "What if she… What if she comes down here? What if she…" He couldn't even finish the thought. Constance was cruel in her grief, but now—if she thought Laura was carrying and lost some twisted hope for another child—there was no telling what she might do.She ain't comin', I don't think," Bobby stuttered, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. His face flushed and sweat started to bead along his brow. "She's mad, but she—she didn't say nothin' 'bout comin' down here. Just yelled a bunch." He looked down again, wringing his hands like a child caught in the middle of a bad lie. "Travis— I-I didn't mean to.”Travis turned to look back at Laura, still out and pale against the stark mattress. He didn't have time to deal with Bobby's regret now. "Just—just go, Bobby. I'll deal with Ma if she comes. But get out. She's… she needs to rest."Bobby hesitated for a moment, and with the mess cleaned up, he rose to his full height, his big frame looming like a ghost, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to say more. The smell of spoiled food on the floor was diffusing into the walls of the room, but neither of them felt hungry. Bobby was about to turn around when something apparently clicked in his memory, making him clear his throat."Uh… also, Pa's pissed. Said… said no more opening the doors unless one of ya is locked in the other cell first," he muttered, sending a wary eye on Travis's darkening expression. "He's scared you'll try to jump me again. Told me to always have one of ya locked up in the other cage so I don't get ambushed."Travis's face chiseled down in anger. "So that's how it's gonna be now?" he growled out between a set of gritted teeth. "Locking us up like animals, like we're nothing but—" He stopped, a harsh laugh bursting from his mouth. "Jesus Christ, Bobby, we're family.”Bobby's shoulders slumped further down, and he mumbled, "He's just… worried, y'know?" in a thick tone of guilt. "Said you're too smart. Can't risk it. Said it's safer this way… so I don't get… jumped again." A sight up, desperation certainly flickered in his eyes. "I don't wanna do it, Travis, but… but I can't go against him.""Of course you can't," Travis bit out, the strain evident in his voice. He ran a hand over his face; frustration and worry knotted his insides. "Get out, Bobby. You've done enough.""Travis, I—" Bobby began, but his brother sliced through him like a knife, his voice cold as steel."Just go," he snarled. "If you really wanna help, then leave us alone."Bobby opened and closed his mouth several times, looking like a lost child caught in a storm. He nodded stiffly, moving backwards to the door. "I'm sorry, Trav. Really. I didn't mean to… I'm sorry." With that, he turned and left. The heavy sound of his footsteps echoed down the hall until he disappeared out of sight.The instant Bobby was out the door, Travis's shoulders slumped in defeat. He turned back to Laura, still sleeping fitfully, her face twisted up in pain even in unconsciousness. He exhaled a long, shaking breath, his guilt and worry battling it out inside. Bobby had just made things so much worse. This whole mess was getting out of hand.He sat beside her, watching as the hours bled into one another. Laura stirred once or twice, muttering unintelligible things in her sleep, but she never woke. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. He scarcely noticed the hunger that nipped at his stomach nor the exhaustion tugging at his limbs; he'd been running on fear and adrenaline for so long that anything else felt foreign.It wasn’t until the following morning, when the cell felt almost unbearably cold, that Laura’s eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused."Hey, hey there," Travis whispered, leaning over her, his hand soft against her face. "How're you feeling?"Laura blinked lethargically, her eyes drifting around the cell before coming to rest on him. "Like shit," she said in a hoarse voice, wincing as she shifted, the pain twisting her features. "What—what happened?”Travis reached underneath the bed and pulled out a small, rattling bottle of painkillers. He poured a single pill into his palm, then grabbed the water bottle, bringing it to her lips. "Here, take this. It'll help."Laura winced, but took the pill anyway, wincing further as the motion of swallowing sent another spasm of pain surging through her chest. She sipped some water, and turned a sideways look up at him, her gaze narrowing."Did Bobby come back?" she asked softly.Travis faltered, carefully picking each word. "Yeah. He, uh… brought some ice last night. He… he didn't have any more food." He gave a slight, hopeful smile to try and make the furrowing of her brow just a little less deep. "We'll be alright, don't worry about it.""Yeah… sure," Laura whispered, falling back, her eyes shutting as if the weight of the world pulled down on her. "What else did he say?"Travis's stomach twisted, but he kept his face impassive. "He was sorry that it happened.""Mm," Laura returned skeptically. "Well, he should be.""He's just—" Travis exhaled, turning to her with a tinge of guilt and helpless frustration. "He didn't mean anything bad. Just— don't be too hard on him.”Laura's lips twitched, and a low, mirthless laugh escaped. "Don't be too hard on him? He held me down and bashed my head into the fucking ground, dude. He could've killed me.""I know, I know."She looked up at him then, her eyes clouded with pain and something else—something softer.They stayed that way for a while, Travis watching over her, his fingers still lying light over hers. He wouldn't say anything else now, wouldn't breathe a word about Constance's anger or the danger still out there, looming. Not yet. She needed time to recover, get back her strength.
Please stay back, Ma.
He muttered to himself—eyes never once breaking their hold on Laura's face.
Give me time. Give her time to get well.
Because one way or another, he had to get her out of here. But she needed to be at full strength if they were going to have any chance of surviving. Sadly, even a few hours awake was still too much for Laura in her recovering state so they had little to say to each other until she finally succumbed back into a reckless sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
That basement was wreathed in the same suffocating, blood-red light. Long shadows twisting across frigid stone walls. Everything looked like a scene from something out of a nightmare in that sickly, crimson glow— there was no color, no warmth, all shades of red that made everything bleed together. Travis felt the damp chill settle in his bones as he looked over at Laura, pale under the blanket, still deep in her fragile sleep.The thud of footsteps down the stairs sent a cold dread racing down his spine. Travis's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. He was on his feet in an instant, ready to face whatever was to come. Then Constance appeared in the doorway."Ma?" His voice shook, the fear he had managed to hold firmly inside breaking through the cracks.Constance Hackett stood in the doorway, but was a ghost of the woman she had been. Beneath the red light, she almost seemed hollow, as if something had been sucked out of her and all that remained was an empty shell. What once had been a radiant face had withered away, the cheekbones high across the skin stretched tightly over it. The tangles and mats in her hair cascaded lifelessly around her face in dull, red strands, like she hadn't touched it in days. Or weeks. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, as if she hadn't eaten proper in just as long.She clutched tightly in her hands a tattered piece of cloth: a small, faded bandana that Kaylee used to wear. She clutched the thing tight against her chest—like it was some sort of lifeline—her fingers curled around the thing tightly enough that her knuckles were white beneath the red glow. Every step she took was unsteady, but there was still something dangerous in the way she moved. Even weak, even hollow, Constance was a threat.Her eyes, sunken and bloodshot, stared around Travis and locked onto Laura with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine. Her gaze was wild and desperate, full of a madness that only grief could chisel into someone's soul. The red light captured the wet sheen of unshed tears clinging to her lashes, but her expression wasn't one of sorrow anymore; it was anger, raw and dangerous.“Where is it?” she spat, her voice as cutting as a blade, breaking the silence like a whip.Travis blinked, making sense of her question, but the dread in his stomach only grew heavier. "What—Where's what, Ma?”Constance turned to him, and there was a terrifying second where Travis saw only rage and devastation in her eyes. "The baby, Travis. The grandchild Bobby said she was carrying." The words were venomous, but constructive anger coated something infinitely worse: hope. Fragile, desperate hope clinging to her grief as if it was all she had left.Travis swallowed hard, his throat constricting painfully. The truth hit him like a sledgehammer in the gut. She had latched onto Travis’ treak—the blatant lie he'd spun to save Laura from being crushed. And now, that lie unraveled before him, threatening to pull them all under. It was now coming to come back and haunt them."Ma, there's no—""Don't you lie to me!" she screamed, taking a step closer, her eyes crazed. "You been keepin' this from me? You let her stay down here, sufferin', carryin' the last hope for this family, and you never told me?" Her voice finally cracked with grief, hysteria bubbling beneath her words."Ma, listen—" Travis began, but she wasn't hearing him.“You do know what this means, don't you? All that we've lost—my beautiful boys—and you keep it from me?" She seemed even more broken than he had ever seen, yet the fire of her anger still burned hot. The desperation and madness that mixed inside her made her sway on the spot as if she was ready to snap.Travis raised his hands as if to cool her down. "Ma, you're wrong. There ain't no baby.”Her face froze in unbelievable lines. "What?""It wasn't… She's not pregnant. It was just—" Travis broke off, his eyes darting back to Laura. She didn't need to hear this. "It was just her period. I said that to stop Bobby from hurting her. It wasn't true."Constance's body stiffened, as the truth hit home. Her eyes brimming with confusion then fury, "You lied? You lied to your brother about this?" Her voice hitched, catching in a sob. "To me? You let me believe… all this time?"“I had to. He was gonna crush her. I had to say something to stop him." Travis's voice was pleading now, raw with guilt. He took another step closer, trying to put himself between Laura and his mother one step at a time."You let me think… I had hope," she whispered, shaking. "Hope for somethin'… for this family. And you took that from me.”She stumbled backward, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. Her hands shook while she pointed at Laura, the faded bandana held in between her fingers like a rosary. "She's taken everything from us, Chris and the kids are gone and now this." Her voice cracked again, raw and broken.Travis felt a wave of protectiveness rise, even as his heart shattered on the sight of his mother's despair. He stepped forward, his voice raised, something he barely never did. "Ma, this isn't her fault. She didn't do anything to us. This is on us, on me. We did this."Constance's face contorted in a grimace; her fingers fluttered as if the words physically hurt her. "All that hope… gone again. For nothin'." Her voice shook, thick with unshed tears, and she shook her head, her gaze darting back to Laura. "She ain't givin' us anything, is she?" Constance spat, a hardening of the eyes glaring at Laura. "Just more loss. More pain.”Travis's blood ran cold. He finally fully stepped in front of Laura, shielding her with his body. "Don't you dare blame her. This isn’t her fault. We took from her. That's all we have done to everybody that has crossed our paths. We take and take, and it ended up slapping us in the face."Constance blinked, for a moment, shocked by his defiance. "We did this for the family!" she shouted. "You know what's out there! You know what she could've brought us—""No," Travis interrupted, firm. "This isn’t for the family. This is for you. You're trying to replace what we lost with something that doesn't even exist. She's just a girl. Almost the same age Kaylee was.”Constance stared into him, her face crumbling. Her lips started to quiver and then let out a broken sob, shuddering down to her toes. "I lost everything," she whispered, her small voice barely a breath. "My babies… Kaylee… Caleb… Chris… all gone.”Travis's throat started to close. "Mom… I'm sorry. I know you're hurting. But this… this isn’t gonna bring them back." He nodded toward sleeping Laura. "She's not gonna fix anything."Constance stared at Laura, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. For a moment, Travis thought she might lash out, do something reckless, but instead, she slumped forward, her shoulders sagging. The grief weighed her down, pulling her under like quicksand."I just wanted one thing," she murmured, her voice breaking with every word. "One thing… and you couldn't even give me that."Her shoulders shook and a long, ragged sob burst from her before her body folded in upon itself. Travis watched helpless as what little hope had remained within her was shattered before his eyes. For an instant he expected her to lash out, but instead she merely turned and walked away, dragging her feet—like every step took too much from her.The far-away trap door slammed shut behind her, thrusting Travis into the cold, stifling silence of the basement. He stepped backward nearer to the bed before his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees, hands trembling as he reached for Laura's. She was still unconscious, mercifully unaware of the tempest that had just rocked her.But Travis couldn't shake the weight of what had happened. He hadn't been able to save his mother from her grief, and he hadn't been able to protect Laura from any of this. Now, more than ever, he realized that the real danger wasn't the cell, or the bars, or the dark—it was the family that surrounded them. His family.And he didn't know how long he could keep her safe.Days turned into an indistinguishable routine, relieved only by the subtle indications that Laura was slowly recovering. While Laura remained bedridden, Travis followed the new protocol unquestionably. He would shuffle over to the other cell whenever Bobby arrived, allowing his brother to unlock the door in safety and hand him their food. No matter how tired and aching he was—he never let Bobby anywhere near Laura in her weakened state.Every time Bobby shut the front door, he went ahead and opened the one in between the cells before leaving. Travis waited until he was completely out of sight before carrying the trays back to Laura's side carefully, easing it down, and rousing her from her sleep. He was always patient and careful, speaking in soft tones to encourage her to sit up and have a few more bites. And when it was obvious she was having a hard time swallowing, he would raise the glass of water to her lips, urging her to take a little, slowly, until she could manage a few more mouthfuls.If she couldn't finish, he'd save what he could, pouring the water she did not drink into a plastic bottle and tucking it safely under the bed for her to use later. He would sit beside her until she fell back asleep and only then allow himself to eat whatever was left on his own tray.At first, her bruises had darkened and swelled—purple blotches spreading across her ribs and back like dark angry bruises—but with time, they started to fade. The yellowish-green splotches of healing mingled now with her fair skin, and the pain in her chest gradually loosened its grip.Travis was tireless in his care. Every few hours, he made her take painkillers, rationing them out with such intensity that Laura felt she was his lifeline, and not the other way around. When Laura had to go to the bathroom, Travis would help her stand and support her while they went to the other cell. He kept his gaze respectfully averted, giving her what little privacy he could. He would then quietly remove the blood stained clothes and wash them in the small bucket of water, with a gentleness that spoke volumes of his patience.He'd get her fresh clothes to wear from amongst the old boxes, however loose or over-sized they were. He had even gone so far as to tear strips from the thin, worn blankets, folding and layering them carefully into make-shift padding for her, handing them over with a muttered apology. Despite the fumbling, he never complained, never faltered—just continued doing whatever it would take to make her as comfortable as possible, his face set in a tight mask of concern.He was never far from her side, his gaze rarely leaving hers, intent in its vigilance, a sight that caused her throat to ache. Every time she stirred, or tried to rise, he was instantly at her side to guide her, restrain her, prevent her from over-exerting herself.“Travis, I'm fine," she muttered one morning, her voice a little raspy from disuse. She tried to sit up, wincing slightly as the muscles along her back protested. "I can do it myself.”"I know," he said softly, his hand remaining on her shoulder a second longer before he retreated backward. But he didn't go far. Only a step or two away, edging close enough that the weight of his presence bordered on tangibly crushing. "Just… take it slow, alright? Don't push it.""Don't push it?" A small, dry laugh left Laura's lips, and she shook her head. "What's the worst that could happen? Get trapped in a cell with you for another few days?"The joke fell flat. The smile Travis tried to muster didn't reach his eyes, and he looked away, his lips tightening. "I just… want you to heal up. That's all."Then she let out a guiltier sigh, as if she were trying to make light of it. He'd been this way ever since she woke up after Bobby’s confrontation—quiet, attentive, his eyes shadowed by something she couldn't place. He was always watching her, like she might just break apart at any moment, and it made her chest ache in ways she couldn't describe.Despite the pain, she did get better. With each day came a little more strength. She started to move around the cell, shuffling from the bed to the other cell where the makeshift toilet was. Travis would keep close, watching every step of hers, his breath caught in his throat as if he were afraid she'd collapse any second.In no time, she felt almost normal—if a little stiff. The ache in her ribs was dull now, more reminder than constant throb; the sharp pain in her back had subsided to a bearable soreness. Her head still hurt—most when she moved too fast or tried to stand for too long—but the nausea and dizziness were gone.She was stretching her arms gingerly, testing the limits of her movement, when Travis spoke from his spot by the cell door."Your back looks better."Laura turned toward him, raising one eyebrow. "What, been checking me out while I sleep?"A flush crept up his ears and back of his neck, and he shifted uncomfortably. "N—no, I mean—just… making sure the bruises were fading, is all. Don't want you getting worse."Her smile softened somewhat at his discomfort. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. I know you're trying to help."Travis didn't respond; he just looked so tired—more tired than she'd ever seen him, like he hadn't slept properly in days.“T," she said softly, leaning against the cell wall for support. "You need to take care of yourself too, you know. You look like shit."He blinked at her, startled, and then let out a short, mirthless laugh. "Yeah… maybe.”She would have liked to say more—to ask if he'd eaten anything, if he'd slept more than an hour at a time. But the words died on her tongue. What was the point? They were both trapped here—both running on empty.Instead, she moved slowly to the bed and sat down, patting the spot beside her. "C'mere. Sit. Take a break."He hesitated, looking at her and then the cell door, apparently waiting for Bobby to burst in at any moment with more bad news. But when she gave him a firm look, he relented, collapsing beside her with a deep sigh.The silence between them was a thousand unspoken things, hanging just beyond the edge of perception. Laura let herself lean back against the soft bed, staring up at the ceiling. The pain was manageable now, nothing other than the dull ache that reminded her she was healing. Yet she felt no less trapped now than when she first arrived at North Kill, trapped by him, trapped by her own thoughts and trapped with him."Did Bobby really apologize?" she asked softly, not looking at him."Affirmative," Travis murmured. "Said mom was really mad. He's now probably holed up somewhere, trying to stay outta her way."Laura frowned, her fingers tracing the edge of the thin blanket. "Your mom knows? She hasn't…?"“She's not coming," he cut her off quickly, his tone too sharp, too insistent, his country accent too loose. When she glanced at him, he looked away, his jaw clenched. "She's—just keepin' to herself. Ain't gonna bother us."Laura didn't push it. She could tell he was holding something back—he always did that tight-lipped thing when he didn't want to talk. But she wasn't in the mood to argue. Not when she felt so… tired. Not just physically, but emotionally drained.They sat this way in the darkness of the cell for several minutes, the silence broken only by the soft pattern of their breathing. Travis's presence was solid; small comfort at first. His eyes stared ahead, his fingers absently drumming on his knee, but every now and then, he caught glimpses of her from the corner of his eye—checking, reassuring himself she was still there, still breathing."Thanks," she whispered finally, startled to find the words were sincere. "For… everything."His face screwed up, frowning, and he shook his head, half as though he was disbelieving. "Don’t need to thank me. I haven’t done anything worth thanking.""You kept me alive." She gave him a little tired smile. "That's worth a lot."Travis swallowed hard; his throat bobbed as he tried to find the words. But in the end, he just nodded—eyes dark, serious. "Yeah. I'll… keep doing that. Promise."Laura's chest knotted, a wild tangle of gratitude and frustration rising through her. She reached out, her hand brushing his arm lightly. "Don't wear yourself out, okay? You can't take care of me if you're dead on your feet."He huffed softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?”"Yeah. But I'm your pain in the ass." Teasing, light, almost playful, and some tension between them eased. "So… get some rest. Doctor's orders."He snorted, but she could see the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. "Alright, alright. I'll rest. But only if you promise to take it easy.""I will," she said softly, her eyes fluttering shut. The cell faded around her, edges blurring as finally, exhaustion overtook her.She felt him shift beside her, his hand settle gently over hers, and she let herself lean into the touch, letting go of the lingering fear and pain.For now, that would do. Bobby's heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. That time had come again—the sprinklers. Laura groaned inwardly, already preparing herself for the cold shock to come. Travis sat up on the edge of the bed, looking at her, his face tight with the same resigned frustration they both felt.Bobby arrived, his face as empty as ever. There were no more apologies, no guilty fidgeting. It was a routine now, part of the cruel regimen that kept them ‘clean’, a perverted mockery of care.Travis stood and walked with Laura to the next cell over, both exchanging an irritated glance. Bobby simply threw the lever on the wall, and the gentle hiss of increasing pressure swept through the tubes.Travis shifted closer to Laura; it wasn’t the first time he tried to shield her from the worst part of the water’s icy blast. The light started oscillating again, the warning alarm that was to be had for the upcoming water. The sprinklers overhead sputtered to life, vomiting torrents of freezing water, its force hammering down on them in relentless sheets. The water hit with all the force of cold needles which stung the skin. Travis shifted a little in front of her, his broad shoulders taking most of the brunt of the ice assault, while Laura wrapped her arms over her head.The water pressure was not soft and gentle; it was to scrub them down like animals. Each drop was like a winter slap against the skin, soaking their clothes in a matter of seconds, making them cling uncomfortably to the skin. Laura gasped; her breath hitched as the cold shock ravaged her senses. The red glow of the room blurred with the cascading sheets of water into a surreal, oppressively crimson wash.Travis tried to stand firm under the force, keeping his body between the worst of it and Laura. She could feel the cold creeping into her bones, her fingers going numb, and her teeth chattering uncontrollably. The sound of the water hitting the metal bars of the cage and splattering onto the concrete floor became deafening. The smell of damp concrete mixed with mold filled the air as the weight pressed down on them."Just hang on," Travis said, his voice no more than a murmur against the torrent. His arm brushed hers, wordless reminder that he was there, sheltering her as well as he could. His body shook with effort, his muscles taut with strain in his fight to stand firm against the pressure.Laura hissed, hugging herself closer, and the wet clothes felt like a heavy shroud against her skin, weighing her movements down. The chill of the water passed into the center of her body, like icy tendrils crawling across her skin, wrapping around her lungs, making it hard to breathe.True to his word, Bobby flicked the sprinklers off after less than a minute. The water cut off abruptly, and with that once again, there was silence, except for the sound of water dripping on the concrete, followed by the start of the ventilation system. Laura just stood, dripping wet with water running down her face, her hair plastered to her skin, like she had just been caught in a storm. Travis shook his head like a dog, flinging off most of the water before stepping back, the fabric of his shirt soaked through and clinging tightly to his body.Bobby grumbled something under his breath that neither Travis nor Laura caught, but they were way too worried about their own situation to care about it, so he simply just left without any other word.Travis stepped back into the living area and fetched them the pile of dry clothes they'd set out on the bed. He passed Laura her change of clothes, making sure to allow her some privacy. She peeled off the wet outfit; the cold fabric sucked off her skin with an unpleasant squelch. Her fingers were numb and clumsy as she pulled on the dry clothes, shivering with residual cold. Travis turned away, as he always did, his back to her as he quickly changed out of his own soaked clothes.The chill had sunk deep into their bones, leaving them both shivering and silent. Laura ran her hands through wet hair, her breath still shaky from the cold. She shot Travis a half-hearted look of irritation. "I hate this place."He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck where the water had pounded down hardest. "Yeah," he muttered, voice low and tired. "I know.”Travis gathered the cold clothes and took them to the previous cell to hang them on the clothesline that they had improvised. With a bit of luck, the fans would be working just long enough to have them dried in no time, though having hope of that place was a mistake he kept naively repeating.The room was still, the silence oppressive, a state broken only by the dripping water and the fans. They were dry now, but the cold still clung to them, deep inside, where no dry clothes could touch.Travis turned to her again, his jaw clamped tight, but something a little softer flickering in his gaze. He said nothing. There was no need. The shared exhaustion, the routine, the misery— it was all there, hanging in the air between them. He stood there, shoulders hunched against the weight, his face shadowed by the dim red light.Laura stretched, trying to shake the lingering chill off, the weight of their situation immediately weighing her back down. She gave him a wry smile. "Same time next week, then?"He snorted, shaking his head. "I'll be sure to clear my schedule."And just like that, the routine would continue. She watched his chest rise and fall with each deep, steady breath as he finally slept, really slept, and not the restless dozing he'd been doing for weeks. It had been so long since she'd seen him finally give in to exhaustion, letting himself drift away into a much-needed rest. Always too nervous about his mother's appearance, too jumpy about those Bobby's unexpected visits, and too consumed with the need to watch her. Despite the darkness of the light, she could make out just how frail he looked under those loose, secondhand clothes—probably Bobby's, if she had to make an educated guess.The sight of him now, curled up with his arm tucked under his head for a makeshift pillow, hit her with a pang of sadness. His salt-and-pepper beard had grown wild; a few more strands of silver had crept in at his temples now that he didn't have the chance—nor the reason—to dye his hair for work. His face was haggard, dark circles framing his eyes, lips cracked and peeled from dehydration. She swallowed the hollow feeling settling in her chest. This was not the same man who had kidnapped her all those months ago—how many months? She didn't know any more. She had lost count of the days in this place. The proud, unbending Sheriff who once stood tall and stern now stood as just a worn-out, almost defeated man.Laura shifted on the cold, hard floor, feeling the sharp twinge in her lower back from bruises that were still healing and an uncomfortable position. It didn't matter. Pain was proof that she was alive, that they were alive. It reminded her they were still here, still hanging on, if it was just by a thread.She leaned back against the bed frame, close enough to feel the warmth of Travis's body without touching him, finding some comfort in his presence. Her fingers traced aimless patterns that she had drawn on the back of the notebook, her makeshift canvas. At first, Travis had grumbled at her doodling, saying something about every page being for escape plans—detailed routes and contingencies, not random drawings. But he'd let it go once he realized how much it seemed to help her cope. It kept her busy, gave her something to focus on other than the walls closing in. This stirred a very small spark of joy in her, which was rare for both of them.She hadn't been allowed to use his police torch, though. He was too worried they might need it for their eventual escape and her reckless use would wear out the batteries. She was okay with that. Laura had grown used to the red room gloom; her eyes, adjusting to the murk and darkness, were soon able to make out shapes and rough forms in the clear pages.A flicker of movement at the edge of her vision sent her head up. Her heart stumbled, a cold rush of fear clamping around her chest as she saw the figure in the doorway of the corridor. It was an old woman, her face pale and waxy, her eyes rimmed with red, as though she'd been crying for days. The dress hung loose and tattered upon her meager body, the hem frayed and gray. Long greasy hair fell in limp curtains either side of her face, tangles and strands wild. Laura's breath caught in her throat.
The Hag of Hackett's Quarry.
It was a thought that tore through her mind like a bolt of lightning, sending a shiver racing down her spine. Goosebumps pricked her skin as the air in the cell seemed to grow colder. Then she saw the bundle in the woman's arms—something carefully wrapped in cloth. And behind her, in the shadowed corridor, was a male figure clutching a shotgun. No, that wasn't a ghost. That was way worse. Laura's instincts screamed at her to move, yet she was stuck in place, locked by the lifeless gaze of the woman. She swallowed hard, willing her muscles to act on command. She reached out and grabbed Travis's wrist a little harder than she meant to; her fingers dug in as if anchoring herself.He jerked awake instantly, tension snapping through his body. His eyes locked onto hers, sharp and alert, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at something else— somebody else. His gaze followed hers and when he saw who was standing there, he sat up straight, all traces of sleep evaporated.“Ma… Pa," he whispered hoarsely. He stood up and stepped in front of her, shielding her instinctively. His presence was solid and strong, blocking her view of them. But it wasn't enough to erase the oppressive sensation of being watched by two ghosts."Hi, son," Jedediah’s voice rumbled through the room, deep and somber. He took a step forward, the shotgun held loosely at his side. "Your mother thought of making you a visit.”Travis's eyes flickered between his parents, his jaw tightening. Constance took a tentative step forward, her frail hands clutching the package against her chest. There was something in her gaze, something almost fragile beneath the veneer of madness and grief."I feel…" Her voice cracked, thin and raw, the sound of it making Laura's skin prickle with unease. Constance looked lost, adrift in the sea of her emotions. "We started off on the wrong foot."Constance's pale figure hung in the doorway of the cell, which was heavy and almost full of silence. The light of the one overhead bulb fell unkindly on her face, outlining every wrinkle, every line of pain and fury etched into her skin.Her eyes cut back and forth between Travis and Laura, keen and judging. Laura felt her heart pounding in her chest, her pulse racing so fast she'd thought she might faint. But she forced herself to remain motionless, rooted in place by the sheer intensity of the moment."I've been thinking," Constance began, the voice that passed her lips now strained, a hollow echo of what once was. "It's been so long… since you two were put down here. So much time has passed… and still nothing." Her words were measured, laced with a bitterness that made Laura's skin crawl."Ma, don't—" Travis began. Laura felt his body tighten beside her. She reached out instinctively, clutching his arm, squeezing hard. She didn't want to see where this conversation was going, didn't want to hear what Constance might say next. Yet, at the same time, she knew it would be a mistake to push her over the edge.Constance didn't say a word to him, her eyes fixed on Laura with a cold, calculating glint. "You've been down here for weeks, and still… nothing." She took another step forward, just one, cradling the package in her arms like some twisted gift. "I want to help. I can help.”"Ma—" Travis tried again, voice louder, more insistent, but Laura squeezed tighter on his arm. He turned to her, his face a war of anger and fear. He didn't want to let Constance take control, but Laura saw the worry in his eyes too—worry that if he pushed too hard, whatever fragile calm was holding Constance from the edge would shatter."Please, Travis," Laura begged, her voice barely audible over the hum of her heartbeat. "Don't… don't make it worse."For a moment, it looked like he might fight her on it. His gaze flicked back to Constance, his jaw clenching so tight she thought his teeth might crack. But then he nodded stiffly, stepping back just a fraction, letting her take the lead.Jedediah moved then, stepped forward with a deliberateness that made the cement beneath his feet crunch. He unlocked the front door of the other cell they made into the toilet space, the metallic click loud within the room, and Constance stepped inside. Travis shifted, his entire body tense and coiled like a spring, ready to launch at the first sign of trouble."Come here, hun," she ordered, her voice low and cold as frozen water. Laura didn't move, looking instead to Travis, but his face was carved of marble and his eyes ablaze with constrained anger."No, Ma—""Don’t you dare argue with me, Travis!" Constance's voice cracked like a whip and made Laura jump. Again, she looked at Laura, and for a moment, something softened in those eyes. Something almost like sorrow. "My boy's not gonna want to… do his duty with you lookin' like that. Like a goddamn boy." Her lip curled in disgust as she stared Laura up and down, taking in the oversized, mismatched clothing—Travis's old hoodie, Chris' too-big sweatpants. "You look like a goddamn mess. No man would ever—""Ma, that's enough," Travis growled, but Constance whirled on him, eyes blazing."Enough? Enough?" she spat, her voice rising to a shriek. "I've been good enough to feed you, to bring you clothes and empty your filth— to keep you alive down here. But I can stop that. I can make you starve until you both come crawlin' to me, beggin' for help!""Please…" Laura said, her voice barely audible over the crackling tension between them. She took one cautious step forward out of Travis' protective frame and met Constance glare for glare. "It's… it's okay. I'll do it.""Laura, no," Travis breathed, but she shook her head, even as her heart pounded painfully against her ribs. Constance had made a serious threat right now. She was right; they had not suffered from starvation, not yet , and if they didn't keep her happy she was going to let them starve until submission. Laura completely believed so. It was her turn to protect them from that, to protect Travis from even more misery."It's alright, Travis. I'll go."Constance's face split into a twisted, triumphant smile. "Good girl," she crooned, the syrup dripping with insinuation. "Close the door behind you. I don't want that one causin' trouble while we're doin' this.""Ma, no—" Travis moved forward, but Laura made sure the cell door slammed shut between them with a resounding clang. His teeth bared in a snarl, cursing under his breath.Laura moved until she was in the center of the cell, and Constance turned her back on Travis; her full focus on Laura now. She moved forward, shuffling slightly as she reached out with the package she'd brought in with her. Laura's stomach twisted as she saw what lay within.It was a dress—an ugly, faded thing that looked as though it had been left out in the sun for years. The fabric that had once been bright color, was now a sickly shade of what looked pink under the dim red light; there were patches where the color had bled, leaving it mottled and stained. The edges were frayed, the seams loose. And then there was the smell; musty acrid odor of decay and old perfume that made Laura gag."He never liked spending time with girls, did you, Travis? Always runnin' off with his brother and friends, huntin' and doin' God knows what in those woods. Never wanted to go to dances, never even looked at those girls I introduced him to in town. No—" She took a step closer to Laura, fury making her eyes gleam. "He'd rather play soldier or be out there, wastin' time on boys' things."Travis's face colored to a deep crimson hue, his ears getting the same shade to match his cheeks. His hands curled into fists at his sides. "That's not—”"Of course it is!" she screamed at him, her eyes razor-sharp. "You never took to any girl. I always thought—" She cut off, dragging in a ragged breath before turning back to Laura. "And now, look at this. A girl who looks like a damn boy. How is my Travis supposed to… do his duty to his family like this?"Laura felt the ground open up beneath her, like she was falling and couldn't stop. Every sentence out of Constance's mouth landed like a gut punch, soaked in disdain. It wasn't just about her appearance; it was about Travis, about Constance's screwed-up desperate need to control everything, to make them into something they weren't.Laura's throat closed, her heart pounding against her ribs so hard it hurt. She tried to steady her breathing, but Constance's eyes were on her, some strange manic intensity burning behind them. And before she could say a word, Constance reached out and yanked the hair tie from her head, letting Laura's hair spill loose around her shoulders."There," she muttered, her voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "Women should wear their hair down. Makes you look… soft. Pretty."The words were like shards of glass scraping down Laura's spine. She stood frozen, biting her tongue as Constance shoved the dress into her hands.“Put it on," Constance instructed, her tone allowing for no dispute. Laura gazed down at the dress, her skin crawling at the thought of touching it, let alone wear it."Can I… can I at least change somewhere… private?" she ventured, her voice a whisper. She glanced around frantically at Travis, looking for anything to save her, but Constance's hand shot out, grabbing her arm with strong desperation.“Do it now," she barked, the sound of it echoing off the walls. Travis turned his face away to give her some attempt at privacy, jaw clenched tight enough to crack, but didn't say anything. Laura swallowed hard, throat dry, and nodded."Okay," she whispered, fingers shaking as she pulled off the hoodie, feeling exposed and vulnerable under Constance's scrutinizing gaze. She tugged the dress over her head; the coarse stiff fabric ground against her skin. It was too tight, bunching awkwardly around her chest and hips, but she hauled it down, feeling fabric pinch and dig into her skin. Suffocating her; the smell was old and moldy, stuck into her nostrils. She took off the sweatpants and kicked them out of the way once the dress covered her. Without the fabric to protect her legs the cold air bit them unmercifully. She held her breath, willing her body to stop its damned trembling. Constance moved behind her, bony fingers fumbling with the laces at the back of the dress. Each pull tightened the fabric tighter and tighter around her ribs until it was hard to breathe."Need to show off that figure," she muttered almost to herself, tugging cruelly at the laces until Laura wheezed. "Men like somethin' to look at."Laura screwed up her eyes, and hot tears pricked at the corners, but she refused to let them surface. She wouldn't cry. Not here, not in front of her."There," Constance muttered, stepping back to survey her work. "Now… for the makeup."Laura's heart plummeted as Constance dug into a small compact which she drew from her apron pocket.The powder within crumbled, the color garish red shaded that seemed to have been lifted straight out of a cheap Halloween kit. It probably was another color. Probably blue, probably green. But everything was red under that room's light. Constance's trembling fingers scooped some up and smeared it across Laura's eyelids. The texture was gritty, rough against her skin. “Hold still," Constance hissed when Laura flinched, her fingers digging into her chin and holding her still. She rubbed the makeup on with clumsy strokes, pressing too hard, making Laura's eyes water. Then came the blush—a bright, almost neon pink which Constance slapped onto her cheeks without rhyme or reason. The lipstick was last, a garish red that she painted on like she was coloring outside the lines.Laura tried to hold still, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. The makeup smelled musty, moldy, with a sharp, acrid chemical undertone that made her stomach roil. She could taste it in the back of her throat, bitter and metallic."See?" Constance muttered, frowning as she examined Laura's face. "Almost pretty… " She rubbed at a stray mark of lipstick with her thumb, then cursed under her breath and licked her finger, scrubbing at Laura's cheek. "Gotta fix this mess."Laura couldn't stop a tear from sliding down her cheeks, mixing with the smeared makeup. Constance tsked, shaking her head."Stop cryin'," she snapped, her voice cracking. "Men don't like tears."She leaned in closer, her eyes staring into Laura’s, her hot breath sour against Laura's skin. "You need to look like a woman, understand? My boy needs to see you're not one of his brothers. You need to look pretty, like a girl. Because I won't have him turnin' his back on you… or on this family. Understand?”Laura nodded weakly; it was just about a movement. Constance did let go, satisfied. "Good girl."Constance stepped back, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she viewed her work. "Now that's better," she said, her voice low and pleased. "That's the kind of woman that'll get my Travis's attention." Laura hadn't moved an inch. Her body was stiff, like a statue, as Constance's words washed over her, each one cutting deeper than the last.Jedediah moved from the door where he stood guard toward the levels at the wall, his figure casting long shadows as he pushed the lever that broke the circuit, opening the door between cells. "Go on, girl," Constance urged, an authoritative and joyful tone dripping from her voice. "Go to your man."Laura swallowed hard, her throat dry and hurting, but she made her legs move. One slow step, then another. She kept her eyes directly in front of her, refusing to look at anyone. The stench of the old makeup was clinging to her, nauseating her with every breath; the texture of the dress against her skin was like sandpaper.Her heart pounded in her ears as she reached Travis, her face a mess of clashing colors— carmine shades smeared across her face, while streaks of red lipstick painted unevenly on her lips. She looked like a clown, some grotesque parody of what Constance thought she should be. But Travis… he was silent, his jaw so tight it looked like it might crack.“Isn't she pretty?" Constance asked, her tone deceptively honey-sweet. Something darker gleamed in her eyes, a challenge to him to oppose her. Travis didn't respond. His fists clenched at his sides, every line of his body taut, holding himself together with effort. "Travis," Constance insisted, her voice whipping keenly, slicing through the air. "I asked, isn't she pretty?”He nodded once, silent. Laura was standing in front of him; her heart thundered loudly in her ears, and she felt he might hear it. The makeup felt like a mask that she couldn’t get rid of, that she couldn’t peel off, trapping her in this grotesque nightmare. She saw the angst in his eyes, the storm brewing beneath the surface, and she knew he was trying to protect her, trying to figure out how to get through this situation without starting a war. A war that they couldn’t win. But Constance's next words broke something in both of them. "Kiss her," she ordered, cold and firm and final. "Kiss her, Travis."He stiffened, his throat thick with unsaid words, helplessness and anger. "No." Travis muttered, teeth clenched, head shaking slightly.Constance screeched, her voice shrill in anger as she hollered, "Ungrateful child! After everything I did to bring you a good-looking girl—someone who doesn't look like a goddamn boy —and you won't even kiss her?!"Her words were like daggers tearing into Travis with such cruelty that Laura's very blood boiled with it. Constance continued on and on, insult upon insult, demeaning him with every syllable spoken. Laura watched him as he began to tremble, the restraint just barely there. That did it.In a sudden impulsive move, Laura grabbed his face, her hands shaking as she forced herself to react. She pulled him down, pressing her lips to his in a closed, tense and agonizing kiss. Far from gentle, far from anything romantic, it was a survival gesture, a desperate attempt just to end the torment. Her heart raced as their lips connected, her whole body taut, shaking, but she did it. She kissed him.Constance cackled gleefully, the echo resounding off the cold stone walls of the cell. "There! See? That's more like it!" she crowed, her voice almost triumphant. "Now, you two need to start working on it. I don't want to impose, but I expect results."She turned and walked out of the cell, Jed following close behind. The metallic clank of the door locking behind them left the room shrouded in silence. A moment passed where neither of them moved. Laura's heart still pounded in her chest, the taste of the old, rancid lipstick on her lips.Then it hit her—everything hit her.She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She gave a strangled cry as she bolted towards the bucket, knees hitting the cold, hard floor as she knelt beside it. Violently trembling, her hands plunged the bottom of the dress into the murky water, scrubbing furiously at her face. The makeup smeared and ran but she didn't care, she just needed it gone. All of it. The disgusting dress, the makeup, the memory of Constance's touch— everything. Harsh gasps escaped her as she scrubbed harder and harder, her shoulders shaking under the heavy weight of her despair. Travis, still in shock, walked over to the other cell and returned with her old clothes—the ones she'd been wearing before the nightmare started—and knelt beside her, his heart breaking as he watched her unravel before his eyes.“Get it off," she whimpered, voice cracking as tears mingled with the water and makeup. "Get it off!" She clawed at the dress, trying to peel it off, but the ties at the back were too tight, too secure. "I can't—," she sobbed, "I can't get it off! Travis, get it off! Please!”He reached immediately for the ties, his fingers working in quick bids to set them loose; his own hands shaking with his anger and helplessness. The dress finally came free, and he pulled it off over her head, careful not to hurt her any more than she already was. He kept his gaze away from the exposed skin and instead focused on the floor, his face a mask of silent anguish."Here," he said softly, holding out the old clothes. "Put these on. It's alright."Laura fumbled with the clothes, her hands still shaking as he pulled the hoodie over her head, while she struggled to calm her breath. She felt raw, exposed in a way she hadn't before—like her very soul had been stripped bare. Travis got her dressed, his eyes avoided during all the process.Once she was dressed again, she collapsed against Travis. She buried her face into his chest as her body shook with sobs. His arms closed round her, holding her tightly, offering the only comfort he could give amidst the middle of this nightmare.She tried to sound strong, tried to push through the despair. "Your mother is a fucking crazy bitch," she whispered against his chest, her voice muffled. Yet her bravado was thin, cracking under the weight of what had just happened.Travis's breath hitched; his voice was so thick with emotion as he whispered something that she didn't quite catch it. When she pulled back to look at him, she noticed it, the streak of red lipstick on his lips from their forced kiss. Laura stared at him for a second, the absurdity of it striking her, and a small, hysterical laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. "You've got… lipstick," she muttered, a broken smile tugging at her lips.She was taken aback when Travis let out a soft chuckle, the tone of his voice bitter, attempting to lighten the air. He wiped at his mouth with his hand and, with a wry smirk, he ran his fingers across his face theatrically, raising his eyebrows. "Better now?" he teased gently.Something in her snapped at the absurdity of it all, and Laura's laughter came in sharp, uncontrollable bursts. But it wasn't long before the laughter dissolved into sobs, her tears mingling with the hysteria as she crumbled in his arms again, clinging to him like a lifeline. The weight of the situation—of everything that they'd been through—pressed upon her like a suffocating blanket.Travis held her tight, his heart breaking as she shook in his arms. He stroked her back tenderly, whispering soft reassurances, though he knew they wouldn't mend what had just gone wrong. Still, he was there. He was there for her. At the moment, that was all he could provide. It was quiet in the cell, only the dim light prolonging long shadows on the concrete floor. Laura was huddled up on the narrow bed, her breathing slow and regular, sunk in that deep, dreamless sleep caused by the exhaustion of all the hysterical crying. Her hair was back again on her high ponytail, a bit uneven since Travis himself had been the one doing it for her, which made her give him a small smile before she decided to go to sleep. They had barely spoken; both were drained from everything that happened.Travis leaned against the cold bed frame. He knew he should sleep, but he couldn't—not yet, not with everything weighing down upon him like a leaden shroud. Every breath Laura took was a reminder that she was still here, still alive, and despite everything, nobody had broken her yet. But it was a fragile thing—this hope—and he felt it slipping through his fingers like sand.He was lost in thought when he heard the distant sound of footsteps echoing along the corridor. His body tensed, every muscle coiling tight with unease. He knew that gait. Slow, deliberate, and full of purpose. He turned his head, eyes narrowing as he watched a shadow loom at the edge of the cell.Constance stepped forward, her face set in a grim mask of disapproval. The dim light made her appearance a ghostly look; the sallowness of her skin accentuated with the deep, sunken circles around her eyes. Her hair is disheveled, greyer than ever; she wore a worn floral dress, so seemingly from another age. Everything about her was red. He wasn't sure anymore whether it was the light or his own personal hatred for the woman who caused this. She stopped just outside the bars, her gaze zeroing in on Laura's sleeping form with a look that could have been disgust—or disappointment."Still in that bed, I see," she muttered, her voice full of disdain. "Still wearing those rags.”Travis pushed away from the bed frame and stood, stepping between Constance and Laura, his eyes unyielding. "She's resting," he said in a hushed tone. "She's tired, Ma. She needs to sleep.""On your bed?" Constance spat, curling her lips as she spoke. "You've let her take your bed, Travis. Where's your spine? And look at her, all dressed up in those… boy clothes. Is that what you want, hmm? A girl who looks like a child playing in her brother's wardrobe?"Travis's jaw clenched. It wasn't the first time his mother had voiced her opinions—how she hated to see Laura in his old clothes, how she thought it to be unbecoming, not feminine. Yet, he would not—no, could not—let her tear down Laura like that. Not now. Not after everything.“She's wearing what we could find," he said evenly, his voice low and controlled. "It's what she wants, it's all we had in this prison. It's comfortable and keeps her warm."Constance sneered, a harsh, ugly sound. "Comfortable? What she wants?" Her voice grew shrill, eyes flashing with something almost feral. "You think that's what matters here, boy? You think wants and comfort are what keep families together?”Travis took a slow breath through his nose, trying to draw back from the anger rising inside him. "You think a dress and some makeup would make her better? That it'd make her what—prettier? More suitable?” He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "She doesn't need that to be beautiful. It's not who she is. If it's not working, it's because I’m not going to force her into bed with me. You have lost your mind with grief, and you are not thinking clearly. It has nothing to do with her." he said, attenuating every word.Constance's face twisted in anger and something more—hurt, wounded. "And what do you propose to do, Travis? Just go on playing house with her? Let her have your bed and prance around in your brother's clothes while you play protector? It's not supposed to be that way. A woman should be—""I am not a rapist," Travis grunted sharply, the edge of steel in his voice. "If it’s not working, it's not because of how she looks, it’s because we are prisoners. She is good as it is. Times are different now, Ma. Things ain't like they used to be when you were a young girl. People ain't like they used to be.”"People are weak!" Constance spat, her eyes wild as she moved closer. "They think they can have whatever they want, do whatever they want, and it'll all be fine. But it's not fine. It's never been fine. You—you're supposed to take care of this family. You have a duty, Travis, towards this family. To us. To your father. To—" She jerked a violent gesture toward Laura."—whatever this mess is supposed to be! Your duty is to heal this family. Your duty is to the Hacketts!”Travis drew another slow, shaky breath. "I’m looking after the family. I'm doing what I need to—" "Need to? " Constance snarled, her words hacking across his. "You're obsessed with her. Obsessed! This isn't duty—it's some damn fantasy you're clinging to!" She jabbed a sharp, accusatory finger in Laura's direction. "You're supposed to be a man for this family. Not some lovesick fool! You're supposed to fuck her and give this family a chance to thrive again, not keep her like some virginal princess in a castle! You are a goddamn Hackett!”"Ma, it's not like that,” Travis said, the words raked his throat like barbed wire. He made himself meet her eyes, made himself stand tall. “I'm just trying to do right by her.” The words soured his tongue, but he pushed on. “Everything that happened—all of it—it's my fault. I need to get her out. That's my purpose.”Constance snorted, her eyes narrowing as her lips curled in a smirk. "Do you really think that girl is going to bring you redemption?" Her laughter was dry, devoid of humor. "You think getting her out of here is going to wash away all your sins? All of them?”Travis swallowed hard, his chest tight."It's not about that. I know I can't change the past. But if I can get her out, if I can save her… maybe I can make one thing right. Just one." He glanced at Laura, a soft, almost reverent expression crossing his face. Constance stared at him, her face a mask of disdain. "And what about you?" she demanded coldly. "What happens when she's gone, hmm? You think she's going to thank you? Think she's going to stay? To let you keep contact with her?" She took another step closer, her voice dropping into a harsh whisper. "You're a fool if you think she's coming back for you. Once she's out, she'll be gone. And you'll be left with nothing but your guilt and our blood on your hands.""I know that, Ma. Do you even hear yourself? This is madness," Travis whispered, his voice cracking. Constance shook her head in slowness, as if she couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You're gonna end up alone, you know that? Alone, without anyone but us. Just like always." Travis winced, his teeth grinding together as he fought the rise of hurt and anger. "Maybe that's what I'm meant for, Ma. To be alone. To pay for what I've done. But not her. Never her." Travis stood there, his fists clenched at his sides, staring after her retreating form. "Forget this… whatever it is you think you have. Get back to what's important. Your duty, Travis, to us. That's all you have. That's all you'll ever have. The time is ticking and I'm not getting younger. You better fix this before next month, one way or another I'm having my babies back." The words cut deep, stabbing into him like cold knives. He wanted to scream, to rage, to do anything—but he couldn't. He was frozen, caught in the aftermath of her accusations. And then she disappeared down the corridor in a split-second, leaving him just as he was, shaken and reeling.
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Laura leaned back against the cold cell wall, her fingers idly playing a tune on her thigh as she fought off the suffocating boredom which had fallen over her like a thick fog. Her thoughts drifted in and out, chasing anything that might relieve the tedium. She turned another glance at Travis, who stood stiffly near the door, his gaze fixed down the corridor, tense and watchful. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, every muscle coiled as if he was waiting for something—or someone."Travis… Can I ask you a question?" she asked hesitantly. Travis frowned at her; this development was new and terrifying. "You don't ask if you can ask questions,” he deadpanned.She rolled her eyes. "I'm now, don't I?""Alright. Do I need to sit down?”“Maybe?" she asked, diffident. His lips went into a thin line, but he said nothing, letting her have her say. As if he could ever stop her. "What did she mean?""Who?" but he was tense already."The other day, your mother. You know, about you not liking girls or… she kept calling you—" She didn't finish the sentence, not knowing exactly how to frame it without reopening a wound. Anything to cease the silence, to keep it from dragging her further down."It's a long story," he said, showing no importance to the matter at all. "Do you see us going anywhere anytime soon?"He'd hoped she wouldn't ask, hoped she'd let it slide. But Laura wasn't one to let things go, and he knew that from the start. He hesitated, feeling old memories tug at him like a heavy chain pulling him down. Still, he owed her the truth—after all she'd endured, the least he could do was give her that."When I was a teen… there was this girl," he started off quietly, voice low, gravelly. He stared at a point just beyond Laura's shoulder, as if seeing something far away, something only he could see. "She was in my class, in… shit, I even forgot the grade. In any case, I thought she was cute—real pretty, you know? So, one day, I got it in my head to take her down to the lake. Thought maybe I could… I dunno, get her to like me, maybe see… uh, swimsuit."He made a gesture on his own chest. He tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace, his gaze shifting to the floor."But Chris wanted to come, too. And back then, Chris was… he was clingy, always wanting to tag along. I loved my brother but she was the first girl that I was really interested in. I knew if he came, there'd be no chance of me spending time alone with her. So, I lied to him. Told him about BigFoot." Laura looked up at him, puzzled. "BigFoot?""Affirmative," Travis sighed, the memory bringing a faint smile to his lips. "Told him there was a Bigfoot in the woods, and that he loved eating little boys about his age." His smile faded, his eyes growing distant again. "Chris got scared. Real scared. Ran home crying, saying he never wanted to go to the woods again. Hell, he didn't even wanna go outside for weeks. Told Mom and Dad he wanted to move to the city where BigFoot couldn't catch him.” A ghost of a bitter laugh escaped him. "When my parents found out… Ma lost it. Said I'd failed the family, made my brother afraid of his own damn home just for a girl. She beat the shit outta me. I'd driven my own brother away from what's important. But she didn't just leave it at that."Laura listened closely, her heart breaking for the young boy he'd been, for the confusion and guilt that must have clenched at his tiny heart. "What did she do?" she whispered, her voice cracking with strain."She made me fix it," Travis said quietly. "Made me take Chris out to the woods every day until he wasn't scared anymore. I spent every summer day after that one with him—showing him the woods, teaching him about nature, turning it into something he could love again." He paused, swallowing hard. "By the end of that summer, Chris wasn't afraid. He wanted to be a ranger, wanted to live out there forever. And me… I stopped thinking about girls. Friends. Anything else. But spent my time just making sure Chris was safe. That is what mattered. Keeping him happy, keeping him from being afraid. Being there for my family." The old, engrained guilt echoed in the depths of his voice, and Laura felt her chest tighten. He told it as if it were normal, a lesson learned, but she knew better. Scars twist memories; trauma may mold even the best of moments into chains that weigh a person down."And that's what you did," she whispered. "You took care of him."Travis nodded absently, eyes unfocused."Yeah. When I got older, Dad thought it'd be good for me to get some 'discipline'. Sent me off to the military." He shrugged, the motion tense. "Chris stayed behind. After spending so much time in the woods he discovered he loved it. So he stayed, helping with the family business. He'd met a pretty lady he wanted to marry. They got pregnant, had a kid, then another. I became Godfather to both. Chris asked me to stay back, said the military was dangerous and he wanted me home. I didn't fight it." Laura heard his voice differently then, how it softened when he spoke about Chris's family, how the faintest hint of warmth slipped in around the pain of the memories. There was something else there though—something darker."And what about you?" she asked softly. "Did you ever—I mean, when you came back, did you meet anyone?"Travis let out a small humorless laugh."I had a couple of relationships here and there. Nothing too serious, though. I… I tried, but it never lasted long." He shifted uncomfortably. "They always said the same thing—said I never put them first. That I was too wrapped up in my family, too… too distant. They didn't get it. Didn't get that I couldn't just… leave. Every time I thought about taking somebody home to meet my parents, settling down, I just kept thinking of Chris, of Ma, Pa… the kids." He paused, his throat working as he swallowed. "I was jealous of Chris's life for a while. He had everything I thought I wanted… but I couldn't have it." Laura frowned. "Why not?""Because I couldn't let go," he admitted softly. "Couldn't let go of taking care of Chris and the family. Couldn't let myself be happy when everything back home was always a mess. I'd start seeing someone, but then Pa'd call, or Ma… and I'd come running. Every time. My partners got tired of it. They weren't wrong, y'know. They deserved more than a guy whose family would always come first." He sighed, a long, weary sound. "Eventually, I just… stopped trying." Laura's heart ached at the quiet resignation in his voice.The way he'd given up on having a life of his own, sacrificed everything for a family that never seemed to appreciate him. She could see it now—the quiet envy he had felt for Chris's picture-perfect life, the bitterness festering there under the surface. Instead of turning that bitterness outwards, he'd internalized it. He had locked it deep inside, convinced himself he didn't deserve better. "You should have had more than that," she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling with the weight of all the words she wanted to say. "You deserved more than being a caretaker for everybody else.”He shrugged again, the motion tired and almost defeated. "It's what it is. I did what I thought I had to do. Doesn't matter now, anyway. None of it does."But that wasn't the point. It mattered because she could see what it had done to him; how it had distorted his sense of self, how it had made him believe he was broken in some way. She wished she could show him—let him see—that it was more than what his family required of him."You're not… what they made you think you are." she stammered.Travis avoided her gaze. "Not sure who I’m anymore, kid," he whispered, his voice so raw it made her chest ache. "We will fix it when we get out," she promised, her voice trembling with resolve. He didn't reply, managing only a quiet nod."You aren't going to believe what Tinder is."He let out a tired sigh. Laura paced restlessly along the small space, her footsteps softly echoing against the stone walls. Her heart was racing, frustration bubbling inside of her threatening to overflow. Travis sat at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, shoulders sagging under the weight of the scarlet room. The red glow of the dim lights cast eerie shadows across his face and accentuated deep lines of exhaustion and regret.Just as Laura was about to continue talking, they heard the steps on the corridor and Bobby came into the room. He looked tired, covered with mud and sweat, disappointed. Travis waited in silence until Bobby would speak."We thought we had 'im this time," Bobby growled. "Saw a lot of dead animals out there. Deer, rabbits… even some wolves. We were real close to him tis moon, but it wasn't enough."Travis looked up, his brow furrowed as if the weight of Bobby's words was pressing down upon him. He nodded slowly. So probably today was the morning after the first full moon of the month, and they have been unsuccessful. "We always get close," Travis murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion. "But close ain't good enough, is it?"Bobby was quiet for a moment, then turned to Travis. "It's never good enough," he growled; frustration pulled tight in his voice. He took another breath and turned to look at Laura for a second before turning away. "Guess I'll catch you later. I'm really tired but I wanted to let you know about it."Travis nodded, "Goodnight, brother.”"Night, I'll bring lunch later." He said before lumbering toward the door. His heavy footsteps echoed in the room as he disappeared, leaving Laura and Travis alone once more.The moment the steps disappeared, Laura turned to Travis, the curiosity gnawing at her. "So… are you going to hunt Silas? Once we get out if they haven't found him yet," she asked, her voice softer now that Bobby was gone.Travis heaved a hard breath, leaning his back against the cold wall. His eyes met hers, and for a second, she thought she saw the flicker of something—hesitation? Pain? Guilt?"Even if I wanted to… it's not that simple. If the police are the ones getting us out of here, not going to prison it is going to be a hell of a lot harder than finding Silas."“What are you talking about? What is it that you will tell the police that will send you to prison?""Probably confess all, I guess," he replied back."Why?" "Don't you really think that just confessing to the police is a good idea?”He was silent for a long moment, the red glow casting shadows over his face as he stared at the floor. "I have to find him," he admitted quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But it doesn't matter what I want. We've got bigger problems now." “And that's all you are going to do? Tell the police, what?”Travis didn't lift his gaze, his fingers massaging his temples as if the pressure building in his head was too hard to bear. "The truth, Laura. I have to tell them everything.""Everything? Everything," she let out a laugh of incredulity. "About the werewolves too? And let them take you to a mental institution instead?"He made a grin."I may let that part slide, but nothing more. Only one possible ending exists here, and that is to answer for what I did—what I didn't do. To ensure my family pays for what they have done too." Laura heaved a deep breath, pacing again in front of her cell. "So what? Now you're just gonna give up? Let Silas continue hurting people?”He shook his head, the weight of it all crashing down on him. "It's not about giving up. I just—there's no way out of this. When the cops come, they're gonna find me guilty of every damn thing."She whirled back to face him, her eyes ablaze. "You think turning yourself in is going to fix everything? You think prison is going to make all of this right?"Travis rose slowly; his eyes reflected resignation, an acceptance of his fate, it would seem. "I deserve it, Laura. I've done things I can't take back. I didn't do enough to stop my family, and people are dead because of it.""And more people will die!" Laura snapped, her body inching closer to him, her voice shaking with emotion. "Silas is still out there. He's the reason all of this started. You know that. And you're going to let him keep hurting people because you're too wrapped up in your guilt?" Travis's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "That's not—”"Yes, it is!" Laura's voice broke as desperation clawed its way through frustration. "You're not thinking clearly, Travis. We need you. I need you. I can't do this alone."Travis turned away running a hand through his hair, his shoulders sagging. "Laura… I can't. Once the police find us, there is no chance in hell they'll let me go free. Not after everything I've done.”"Then fucking lie!" she yelled back. He gave her a look of ultimate offense."Lie to the police? You think that they are stupid?""You are a cop, you know the system; if there is a way out, you have to know it!"“They have evidence, kid! All my fucking fingerprints are everywhere, yours too! —"he grunted, exasperated, raising his hands trying to control himself. "Alright, figure I lie, and then what? Go unpunished? Spend my fucking days going back to looking like a respectable citicent while hunting werewolves in the woods like I'm some kind of hero. Are you kidding me? I've made too many mistakes."Laura grasped his arm, tugging him to her and setting fire to her eyes. "This isn't about being a hero. This is about doing what's right. You're not going to fix anything sitting in a jail cell. You're just going to let more people die."Travis looked away, his face a mask of inner conflict. Everything weighed upon him, pushing him down into the muck, but Laura's words cut through the thick fog of guilt and doubt. "I kidnapped you and your boy—""No!" Laura cut him off, her voice raised in frustration. "You did everything you could! You took us in because you thought you were saving us. Max was infected, and you were trying to protect us. What would have happened if you let us go? If you let us escape? We would have gone to a summer camp full of children, or worse, gone back to a big city with thousands of people—releasing a beast that can't be killed with normal bullets. You were the one that prevented that.""By locking you like a fucking animal," he reminded her. "You fed us, you clothed us, you let us out for fucking showers, and bathroom breaks, you even fucking made me coffee in the mornings. All of it until the next moon where you were able to show me—actually show me—that you were saving thousands of lifes." She deflated partially. "You know that if you had told us this in the car while driving to the camp, we would never have believed you. You do know it, and so do I. You protected us from your family too."At last, his eyes, adumbrated with doubt, met hers."That doesn't change the fact that I committed a crime. And it is also my fault you're stuck here," he grumbled. Laura sighed."Well, yeah, we could have been far off if you had better fucking conversational skills for sure but I was the one walking through the damn front door, didn't I? You weren't the one who locked me in this cage. You're not the one who wants me to— you had never even pointed a gun at me, for fuck’ sake!"Travis shook his head, the self loathing in his eyes impossible to disregard. "But I didn't stop. I didn't stop any of it. And that makes me just as guilty."Laura let out a sharp, exasperated breath, pacing again, trying to wrangle the fire that was building inside her. Her mind was racing, and her chest was getting tighter as she tried to wrap her head around his words. How could he not see it? How could he still blame himself?His face scrunched up in a mask of guilt and confusion. He wanted to believe her, but the weight of his family's actions—and his own inaction—lay upon him like a boulder pressed against his chest. "I'm not the man you think I am, Laura."Her grip on his arm tightened, and her voice fell to a low growl. "You are. You're the man who saved me. You're the man who taught me how to survive, how to fight back. You didn't lock me in this cell, Travis, and you damn sure didn't let your family kill me, nor kill anybody else for what matters."Travis swallowed hard, his throat tight, his heart pounding in his chest. Her words hit where it hurt deep, but he couldn't shake off this feeling of failure that had eaten him for months. "I—I should've done more.""You couldn't have," Laura insisted, her voice not quite as hard. "You're blaming yourself for things you couldn't control. Jedediah trapped us both. He's the one who did this to us, not you."Travis looked down at her, his eyes tight with pain. "I could've stopped it sooner. I should've—”Laura cut him off once more, frustration raising her voice. " Enough! It's not about what you should have done. This is about what we have to do now. Silas is still out there, Travis. He's the one who bit your nephews, your brother! It's because of him that the counselors are dead, that you trapped Max and me, that started all this in the first place. We have to stop him. You can't just give up now."His eyes darted back and forth, the doubt in his mind in a wrestling match with the truth she was slinging at him. "I—I don't know that I can.""You can." Laura's voice was hard, relentless. "You have to. You think throwing yourself in prison is going to fix this? It's not. The danger is still out there, and we're the only ones who know how to stop it. I can't hunt him down on my own, I don't own a gun, nor do I know how to make silver bullets. Fuck I wouldn’t even know where to start searching. You know these woods! You are the only one that is not a fucking mental psychopath that can actually end this."Travis looked away, his throat tightening with emotion. "I deserve prison, Laura. I deserve to pay for what I've done."Laura huffed, shaking her head. "No you don't. You deserve a chance to make this right—to finish what you started. We need to kill Silas. We owe it to Max, to your nephews, and brother. Fuck, we owe it to everyone that died because of him, and to anyone else that might cross paths with him.”Travis's shoulders sagged, the weight of her words sinking in. He wanted to fight it, wanted to push back, but he couldn't. She was right. Silas was still out there, and when his family stepped into prison—something he was going to make completely sure of—he would be the only one who knew how to stop him, how to find him."You don't think I feel guilty?" Laura's voice broke. "You think I don't blame myself for Max? For not figuring it out sooner? It was me that didn't want to go to the motel, Travis. I'm the one who tricked you into showing us where the location was on the map. Who opened the door to the basement. Fuck, I killed your nephew. But I can't let that guilt control me. I have to do something. And so do you."Travis swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. He looked down at her, seeing the fire in her eyes, the determination in her stance. She was right. He could not just give up. Not yet."I—I don't know if I can do it," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion."You can," Laura persisted, taking a step nearer to him. Her voice was soft, yet unyielding. "You can do this, Travis. I can’t do it alone—I need you. North Kill needs you."He looked at her, his heart pounding against his chest as the feeling of his guilt struggled with the truth of her words. He wanted to fight it, to push her away, but he couldn't—not when she was looking at him like this, fire in her eyes and determination edging her voice."I need you to promise me something," Laura said, her voice clear and unwavering. "Promise me you won't go and turn yourself in until Silas is dead. Promise me you won't give up your life until it's over."Travis hesitated, and the promise hung heavy in the air between them. "Laura, I—""Promise me," she repeated again, her voice adamant and unyielding. "I can’t hunt Silas on my own.”He closed his eyes, the guilt and the pain whirling in his chest as in a storm. But then opening them again, he saw her standing before him—strong, unwavering—and he knew that he couldn't disappoint her, no, couldn't disappoint North Kill either."I—I promise," he whispered, barely audible, yet enough.Laura let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, the wave of relief washing over her. "Good," she said in bare tones, not much above a whisper. "Because we're in this together. And we're going to finish it. We owe it to the people that didn’t make it."Travis nodded; his heart heavy but his resolve strengthening. After all, they had a mission—they had to stop Silas. And maybe, just maybe, when this whole ordeal was over with, he could find peace within himself.There was no turning back now.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It wasn't until Bobby's hulking figure finally materialized at the end of the corridor that Laura noticed the way Travis's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. Bobby's heavy boots echoed through the stillness as he shuffled closer, a small, bundled object clutched in his massive hands. Socks, Laura realized. Bobby handed them over through the narrow opening of the door, his face lighting up in that awkward, almost childlike way of his. She had seen him a few times since their last confrontation, always bringing them food and trying to talk to Travis. But Travis was still hurt and angry, shutting Bobby out each time. Laura thought about how she could help and decided to start a conversation herself. "Hey, big guy," Laura said casually. Bobby blinked at her in mild surprise, his eyes darting between her and Travis. Travis glanced over his shoulder, equally caught off guard by the sudden friendliness. It wasn't like she never spoke to Bobby before—she did. But she generally made a point to keep those interactions short and cold. The last thing she wanted was to seem chummy with one of their captors.“Uh… hey," Bobby muttered unsure, looking almost guilty for interrupting them. "Think you could bring us a few more boxes of stuff?" she asked, her tone softening to near friendliness. "Books, old magazines, whatever you can find. Maybe some of Travis's old things from his room?”“What?" Travis blurted out, swiveling to face her, his eyebrows arched in surprise and a shade of defensiveness. "Why do you want my old stuff?" He sounded almost offended—as if she'd asked to sort through his personal memories."Relax," she said mockingly with a snicker, enjoying how his frown seemed to deepen further before he turned back to Bobby. "We're bored out of our minds. If I don't get something to do soon, I'm going to start bullying your brother out of sheer desperation. Right, Detective Dick Whippet? "Travis's jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed once more. "Don't call me that," he growled low, the rebuke without its usual venom. He turned back to Bobby, who still stood there, looking all pulled in two different ways.Before Travis could contest the issue, Bobby cleared his throat, his voice tentative. "Uh… why does Travis get a nickname, and I don't?" He sounded almost ashamed to ask it, his eyes flicking coyly to the floor. "He's always getting called stuff like that. I mean… I kinda want one, too.""Bobby is a nickname, Robert." Travis clarified."Yeh, but I want a funny one, like that one she just said. Like if we are in a gang or sumthin'." Laura blinked, taken aback by Bobby's request. She looked at Travis, whose furrowed brows deepened as if he, too, couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Then, a mischievous smile curved across her lips."Oh, you want a nickname?" she teased indolently, bending closer. "Well, Bobby, I would be delighted to give you one—there is a condition, though; you need to make me a favor."A cautious curiosity kindled on Bobby's face. "Yeah? What kinda favor?""Bring me some boxes from Travis's old room," Laura said, her voice dropping to a coaxing murmur. "Just a few, something to keep me busy. Books, board games, shit even if you have legos hanging around would be awesome, whatever. Then I'll make sure you get the best nickname. Deal?”Bobby demurred, looking from Laura to Travis, who seemed about to interrupt. Still, there was something in Laura's smile that seemed to sell it. "I, uh. I guess I can do that. But I don't know what's in 'em," he grumbled, his face coloring with embarrassment. "Travis never let me poke around his old room.”Travis's face turned red with irritation and embarrassment; his eyes slitted to menacing slivers, accusingly fastening on Laura. She ignored him, her attention riveted on Bobby, as if only he existed in the room."Well, wouldn't this be the perfect opportunity?" Laura pressed, her conspiratorial grin irritatingly expectant. "Come on, you've got to be a little curious about what your big brother's been hiding in there, right?"Bobby's lips twitched, and the barest trace of a smile passed over his face. "Yeah, I guess so. I've always kinda wondered." His voice was low, almost bashful. Laura bit back a grin—hook, line, and sinker."Bring a couple of boxes," she pressed, her voice going down to the coaxing level. "Who knows, maybe we'll find something interesting.”“Yeah, alright. I'll bring some," Bobby said, nodding to himself as if trying to convince him. "I'll see what I can find.""Oh, hell yes!" Laura exclaimed, her excitement leaching through despite herself. She watched as Bobby lumbered off down the corridor, humming softly to himself as if she'd just given him a whole new mission.A soft thud broke her reverie. Laura turned to see Travis tossing one of the pairs of socks at her. She caught it, noting his furrowed brow and the hard line of his mouth. He still looked annoyed, his posture stiff and rigid now that Bobby was gone.“What are you up to?" he asked. There was an edge of suspicion in his tone as he retreated from the bars, his eyes searching her face as if trying to unravel some hidden agenda."Well, for one, we can see if there’s anything useful in those boxes," Laura said with a shrug, yanking the socks on. They were thick and warm, a little luxury in this miserable place. "If nothing else, at least we'll have something to do. Maybe we'll get lucky and find something to keep us occupied besides staring at each other all day. You're certainly not the most entertaining conversationalist I've ever run across, that's for sure."Travis crossed his arms as he studied her, his eyes dark with something unreadable. "Not my fault I have no clue what a Facebook reel is, or whatever the hell you keep talking about," he grumbled, an edge in his voice. "I don't think you'll find anything useful. It's not like we were allowed to keep weapons as kids.”Laura raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. "Oh, ye of little faith," she mocked. "Who says I'm looking for weapons? Sometimes it's the unexpected stuff that's useful."Travis just shook his head, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite himself. "You're not gonna find some magical escape tool in those boxes, Laura.”"Maybe not," she agreed lightly, shifting back onto the bed. "But it's worth a look. And if it keeps us from going crazy in here for a few more days, then it's already worth it."She caught his gaze, held it longer than she meant to. Something silent passed between them. They were still enemies, still distrustful and defensive, yet there in that moment was a kind of understanding—a silent truce. For that instant, the cell walls were just a little less oppressing, the air just a little less injurious."Alright," Travis whispered finally, his shoulders sagging a fraction. "Let's see what Bobby brings. But don't get your hopes up.""Whatever you say," Laura whispered back, her eyes softening. In that heartbeat, there was no anger, no defiance, just two people clinging to the smallest hope they could find.She was the first to look away, her gaze falling to the socks now covering her feet. "Thanks for these, by the way.""Yeah," Travis muttered awkwardly, his fingers twitching against his arm. "Just… don't push him too far, okay?""I won't," Laura promised, looking back up at him with a hint of sincerity. "I'm not trying to hurt him.""Good," he said softly, and for the first time in a long while there was something almost like trust in his gaze.When Bobby finally returned, lumbering down the hallway with two large cardboard boxes stacked precariously in his arms, Laura’s eyes lit up with excitement. The boxes looked like they weighed no more than feathers in Bobby's massive hands, but the sound they made as he set them down with a heavy thud outside of the cell door made Laura's heart leap in her chest. It was the first time in weeks she'd felt anything close to genuine happiness."Wow, you really brought them," she exclaimed, beaming up at him as if he were a hero returning from some grand quest. "You're the best, BB!""BB?" Bobby blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What's that mean?"Laura shrugged with a playful grin. "Big Bobby, obviously. But it's also kinda cute, don't you think? I mean, you wanted a nickname, right? Look at you, it fucking fits."Bobby looked towards Travis, seeking confirmation, but his elder brother looked away, rolling his eyes as his arms folded across his chest in reluctant disapproval. "If you're cool with it, BB, then yeah, sure," Travis said quietly, his head shaking slightly. "Just don't let her get too comfortable.”Bobby's smile returned, this time broader and far more genuine. "Yeah, I like it," he said, nodding his head in slow motion, as if savoring the sound of it. " BB. Thanks." "No problem, BB," Laura said, her grin spreading even wide. "Now, how about you help us bring those boxes in? I'm fucking dying to see what we've got.”Travis gave her an irritated glance. "Can I at least look through them first?" he said, an edge of possessiveness creeping into his tone. "I don't want you rifling through my stuff.""Don't be greedy, Detective Dick Whippet," Laura teased, raising an eyebrow. "You can have the first pick on one box. But I get the other one. Fair?”Travis exhaled, his lips thinning. "Fine, fine. But don't get too nosy."Bobby opened the door, slipped the two boxes in and closed behind. Then he shifted uncomfortably on his feet, looking between the two of them."Go get a chair," Laura replied, flashing him an appreciative smile. "I promised you'd get to see what's inside too, right? You've been hauling these things around without even getting a look."Bobby's eyes widened a little, and he looked genuinely touched. "You… you'd let me see?""Of course," Laura said warmly. "But I think it'll be more fun if we're all comfortable. You know, like a proper little viewing session."Bobby's shoulders sagged, and he nodded avidly. "Yeah, okay. I'll get a chair."Laura watched him lumber off again, and the instant he was out of sight, Travis whirled on her, suspicion narrowing his eyes."What's your game here?" he asked low, his tone accusatory.Laura shrugged. "No game. Just trying to make things a little less miserable. Besides, the more comfortable big guy over there gets with me, the more likely he is to let something slip, right?”Travis’ frown deepened, but didn’t argue. A moment later, Bobby returned, clutching an old, squeaky-armed wooden chair in his grasp. His eyes darted between Laura and the boxes, his stare filled with a childlike curiosity mixed with wariness."Awesome, dude," Laura chimed in, her eyes sparkling. "You can stay right there. We'll show you everything we find, I promise."Bobby's mouth twisted shyly and he nodded, leaning slightly against the chair outside the cell. Laura glanced at Travis and a mischievous smirk began to play on her lips. "All yours, Sheriff," she said with a mock bow, gesturing grandly to the first box.Travis rolled his eyes again but moved forward, his fingers gingerly lifting the flaps of the box open. He sifted through it for a moment, then gave a nonchalant shrug."Just some old junk. Books, mostly," he murmured, but there was a tightness in his voice that told Laura he wasn't as detached as he pretended to be."Books!" Laura breathed. "God, I don't even care what they're. It's something!" She stepped forward, reaching past Travis to pull out a hardcover. The edges were frayed and the spine cracked slightly as she opened it. "Oof, I'm guessing you were not much of a reader, huh?""No as a kid, not really," Travis said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "But… I kept a few around. You know, in case.""In case what?" Laura asked, looking at him directly."In case I needed a distraction," Travis muttered, not looking back.Laura's expression went soft, and she didn't prod further. Instead, she went back to tugging out book after book, laying them out neatly on the floor beside her. Each one felt like a small treasure, a fragment of the world beyond these bleak walls. It was as if she was simply wandering around her mom's old boxes from the basement if, under this light, all the books weren't colored in red. Reaching the bottom of the box, her fingers touched something else: an old notebook. Leather texture to touch, and if she could have guessed a color for it that wasn't red, it would have been dark green or blue."What's this?" she murmured, lifting it out carefully. The cover was scuffed, the edges frayed as if it had been handled a thousand times. She opened it gingerly, her eyes widening when she saw the neat childish scrawl on the first page.
Travis Hackett.
It was in large, uneven letters—something only a child would write. Turning the pages, Laura noticed glimpses of childish musings and half-finished drawings that were so unmistakably from a much younger Travis."Is this… your diary?" she asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.Travis's ears went deep bright red and his face screwed up in a panic. "Give me that!" he snarled, reaching for it.But Laura was quicker. She wheeled out of his grasp and sank her body lower, pivoting with a rapidity and smoothness they had been working on for weeks. Far from perfect, but good enough to leave Travis simply staring, quite a distance away from his diary.“Whoa," Laura laughed breathlessly, holding the diary above her head as if it were a prize. "Did I just Kung-Fu Panda the shit out of you?"Travis blinked at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What… What does that even mean?”Laura beamed. Her chest swelled with this sudden rush of victory. "It means I beat you," she teased, sticking her tongue out playfully. "It's from a movie—Kung Fu Panda. You know, a cartoon about a panda that learns kung fu? Don't they play that in the retirement home you come from?"Travis gave her a blank look, clearly annoyed. "No, I don't know.”"Wait, seriously?" Laura's face softened with surprise. "It's a classic! Well, we're definitely watching it someday.""Can I watch it too?" Bobby asked from behind the bars. Laura returned his attention to him momentarily but barely could hold her smile. "Of course you're invited!"She turned back to Travis, extending the diary out to him—the humor quickly burning off when she caught the look in his eyes; appeasement mixed with a hint of uncertainty. "Here. You can have it back. I won't read it. I promise."Travis stared at her, his gaze flickering from her face to the diary and back again. He reached out and took it, his fingers brushing against hers in a touch that sent a small jolt of warmth through her hand. "Thank you," he whispered, a hint of relief in his voice.Laura smiled slightly. "I'm just curious about you, that's all. But I understand. Maybe one day, when you're ready… you can share it with me?"A response from Travis was slow in coming. Instead, he nodded stiffly, placing the diary back in the box and folding the flaps over it again as if to seal it away. "Maybe," he replied quietly, his gaze falling to the floor."I'll just have to hold it over your head if you give me a hard time again." She shot him a teasing grin, and he chuckled softly despite himself."Guess I better behave then," he muttered."Guess so," she agreed. Then she turned to the second box, her curiosity reignited. "Let's see what else you've got hidden in here, Sheriff."As Laura rummaged through the second box, Travis stood by his posture slightly more relaxed. Probably because of that little gesture of respect she had shown to him, or perhaps because for once they weren't at each other's throats, or maybe because he implicitly trusted her with his privacy after returning to him his diary without much of a fight.Laura’s fingers hovered over the worn cardboard box while her eyes seemed to narrow with determination. The creaking of Bobby's chair in front of the cell seemed to remind her that he was very much watching everything she did and awaiting whatever other great find she might uncover. She shot him a sideway glance, but his wide expectant grin only made her smirk.The box was battered and faded, the corners darkened with age, the tape peeling off. Whatever was inside hadn't seen the light in years. She glanced over her shoulder at Travis, who sat silent on the edge of the bed. His expression was guarded, but she caught the flicker of something behind his eyes—maybe anticipation, or something closer to unease.She took a deep breath and tugged at the lid; old cardboard gave way with a faint ripping sound. The first thing that hit her nose was the smell of dust and stale fabric, but she barely flinched. Her eyes lit up as she pulled out the first item."Clothes," she whispered, lifting a bundle of faded cotton fabric. The gleam in her eye faltered for a moment. Just clothes. Then, something bright and familiar seized her interest in that fabric—a logo she knew all too well.“Nirvana," she whispered almost reverently. Her heart quickened in pace. It wasn't just any shirt; it was a Nirvana shirt. She unfolded the oversized tee gingerly, like she was handling some priceless artifact. "Holy shit… Jackpot.""What'd you find?" Bobby asked, leaning forward, craning his neck to get a better look, and the chair groaned under the shift in his weight.Laura's grin stretched wide, eyes glittering as she showed him the shirt. "Dude, Nirvana! This is, like… a classic merch."Travis shifted where he sat, as if the memories were crowding him all at once. "Pretty big deal, back in the day.”Laura gave him a sidelong look, one eyebrow arched high. "Why didn't you tell me you were cool?" she teased, tugging her lips to one side. She reached into the box once more and drew out another shirt—The Rolling Stones, next Queen, then AC/DC, even Prince."What the fuck…" she breathed, her head shaking in astonishment. "What else have you got in here?”Travis shrugged, his lips curving into a reluctant smile. "Old band merch. Some were mine. Some… belonged to family."She paused, eyes meeting his. The way he said 'family ' carried a weight she didn't want to touch just yet. Instead, she turned back to the box, sifting through more shirts, bandanas, and then… a small, plastic rectangular box caught her eye."A fucking cassette player?" She breathed, lifting the dusty device up like it was some kind of holy grail. She looked down at the box and found a line of old cassettes piled in uneven order. Old rock, country, and some very old and probably forgotten bands were from their parents. "Are you kidding me? We can listen to music!"She whipped around, her excitement radiating off her in waves.It was a jarring contrast, for sure, to the dull oppression that fell over the cell."Whoa, whoa—slow down," Travis chuckled, though there was a fondness in his eyes. "That's a Sony Walkman, but… you need headphones to listen to anything with that. Not even sure it works anymore."“Ugh, I'm still looking, man. Shut up. There has to be some headphones in here for sure." She rolled her eyes playfully, flipping the Walkman over. Her heart sank when she saw the empty battery slot. "And batteries, apparently," she grumbled. "Come on, Travis, you're killing me here. How are we supposed to have a party without music?”"Party?" Bobby's voice cut in, a definite hopeful edge threading through it. He stared up at her with an innocent curiosity that made her pause. The big guy was actually curious. "We havin' a party?”Laura hesitated, looking at Travis, who watched her now with a wary expression. She could feel his disapproval rolling off him in waves, but something inside her—some stubborn, defiant part—wanted this. She wanted to hear music again, to feel something normal for once."Damn fucking right we are," she said, turning back to Bobby with a determined grin. "But we need some stuff first. Like… batteries and headphones. Think you can bring those?"Travis shifted beside her; tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "Laura, we can't—”“The fuck we can't, Sheriff," she shot back. Then, softening, she looked up at Bobby. "Come on, big guy. You'd be helping us out big time. And we'd all get to hear something other than your big brother all day long, right?"Bobby's face lit up, his grin almost blinding. "Yeah! I got some batteries upstairs, I think. And… maybe some headphones too." He glanced uncertainly at Travis, seeking approval.Travis let out a deep sigh and ran his hand down his face. "How are we going to have a party with a cassette player that requires headphones? Are we gonna take turns listening to music?”“The Sheriff is right, as always," Laura said, her tone running a line of wariness down Travis's spine. "We need more than that. We need something else to play music on, too. Speakers with your phone? or a CD player, maybe.”Bobby perked up at that. "I have a CD player and CDs in my room!" He was practically bouncing in his seat now, his childlike excitement filling the room. "We could have real music.""And we're back on track," Laura said, looking over her shoulder at Travis with a triumphant smirk. "See? We got this."Travis just shook his head, his gaze not budging from hers."And what… what else should we do?" asked Bobby with excitement, leaning forward, his eyes sparkling. "For the party, I mean."“Whatever the hell we want!" Laura exclaimed, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We've got the music, the clothes… bring some snacks, some games, something to drink, and food, please. No offense but if I have to eat stew again for the millionth time in a row I will scream.""Snacks…." Bobby's face lit up even more. "I love snacks. Which one?""All of them, dude, it is a party!”Bobby nodded thoughtfully. "And what food?""God, I'd kill for a burger," Laura sighed dreamily. "Like a Wendy's burger, with fucking chips… Something disgustingly that you would only enjoy after a week in the desert. Greasy and gross.""There's no Wendy's here," Bobby mumbled, brows furrowing as he struggled to think of other options."Tommy's," Travis said softly. "They have good burgers. We used to go with the kids sometimes." He paused, then added softly, "But don't tell Ma."Laura faked a zipping motion across her mouth and flipped the invisible key over her shoulder, winking at Bobby. "Mum's the word.""So… we have a plan?" Bobby asked tentatively, raising his fist to Laura as if expecting them to knock fists. Then he looked at it awkwardly, realizing they couldn't do it through the metal bars.Laura blinked hard, then snorted softly, making a fist of her own. She mimed bumping it lightly against the electrified bars, and then exaggerated a comic shock reaction—sticking her tongue out and wiggling her fingers like she was being electrocuted.Bobby burst out laughing, deep hearty chuckles that echoed off the concrete walls. Laura found herself grinning and feeling an odd surge of pride at having made him laugh."Alright, BB " Travis broke in gently, his voice softer now. "Could you bring some batteries for my lantern too? It's… pretty dark down here.""Yeah, yeah, sure!" he said, his grin spreading wide across his face as he nodded vigorously. "I'll come back with everything when I can!"Laura watched him rise from his chair, his mind racing in an instant with a list of all the things he needed to fetch. As he ran off and disappeared up the stairs, she let out a long sigh, the air between Travis and her thick with unspoken words. "What's the torch battery for?” she asked after a second of silence, curious. Travis shrugged and tossed her the torch in one quick motion. She caught it with surprise, raising an eyebrow at him. "I saw it in your face, you've been wanting to read those books you found. The light here sucks… Figured you'd want something better so your eyes wouldn't hurt."Her chest tightened, an odd warmth bleeding through her. "Thanks, Travis. Really.”"Just take care not to drain all the batteries too fast, alright? We may need them." His voice trailed off as he hung his eyes on her a moment before letting it fall to the floor.She nodded and turned, reaching for a book. Clicking on the lantern she said, "Hey… you coming, or what?" She patted the space on the floor beside her invitingly. Travis hesitated for a second before letting out a small sigh."I'm not sitting on the floor like a teenager. Come here," he nodded to the side of the bed next to him. She stood up and ran to the spot, showing him what book she had picked up for their first read. "You know everybody dies in that book, don't you?""Why are you such a killjoy, Sheriff ?""What do you mean? This book is a hundred years old, how haven't you read it yet?""I've seen the first two movies if that helps but never got time for the last one." "Fucking kids." Travis whispered before signaling the book with a nod. "Come on."What else was there to do, after all? As they settled into the soft light of the lantern, the musty smell of old books, they found themselves having a moment's peace—if only a little.It did take Bobby a bit of time to arrive, but in that moment in time, there was a bit of calm for Laura and Travis. On this narrow bed, softly lit by the soft yellow glow from the lantern, they were silently reading together, his shoulder touching hers each time they shifted. Travis steadied the lantern in his hands to keep it just near enough for Laura not to have to strain her eyes to read the faded text.When faint footsteps echoed from above, Travis's fingers twitched and he snapped the light off in a millisecond. They sat there for a beat in total darkness but for the red light, ears straining, until Bobby's wide—framed silhouette finally appeared at the stairwell. His hands were full: arms wrapped around a big cardboard box, with several bags hanging from them, and, to Laura's utter surprise, an old small, square television."Dude, what the fuck?" Laura burst out, laughter bubbling up at the absurdity of it. "Did you really bring a TV?" Bobby grinned sheepishly, setting the items down with exaggerated care. "I got Kung Fu Panda 2," he announced proudly, like a kid showing off his favorite toy. “Thought we could watch it… y'know, for the party." Laura felt the faintest impulse to look at Travis with a notch of unspeakable desperation. This was a link to the world, an opportunity to know what had been said of their disappearance, to know about Max— about her parents.But the look Travis gave her washed all that hope away, his soft dark eyes cast down in a sad expression, his mouth thin and tight as though he weren't prepared to release the knowledge that was going to break any expectation Laura may have gathered."There's no power outlet down here, Bobby," he said, loud enough for him to hear. Laura could feel how that sentence has shattered something in him as much as on her. "You can't turn that thing on."Bobby's face fell instantly."Shit, I forgot.""You should take that upstairs before Pa finds out," Travis said, voice low and wary."They're sleeping," Bobby said confidently. "It's almost midnight. They'll be out for hours.""If we're quiet enough," Travis muttered."It's ok, we still can have a party with whatever else you brought," Laura insisted, determined to have her chance to live this day as similar to normal as it could be. She needed this pause from this demonic red reality; she needed to hold onto something that could bring her joy.
Just once.
"Great," Bobby beamed. "Close the door so I can put the stuff in the other cell." He asked with patience. The comment deflated Laura a bit, bringing her a step closer to the present, but she wasn't going to give it a chance to crush her mood and the opportunity of having a funny break. She threw a quick glance at Travis and jumped off the bed, their book forgotten.Bobby went to the other cell, opened it, and dropped some bags in, keeping his own share of the party supplies. After that, he closed the door behind him, reaching to the wall to lower the level that would reopen the door between cells. He grabbed his chair and sat down comfortably in front of the bars closest to them."Pick those up, I'm going to check what we are going to wear." She told Travis, and without missing a beat Laura darted towards the box filled with Travis's old metal shirts.Travis obeyed silently, making certain he left none of the bags behind as he padded back into the living area. Laura was rummaging through the clothes and tugged out a shirt that caught her eye—a bold, red Queen tee. She smirked and slung it at Travis."Hurry up and change," she ordered, more playful than anything.Travis had just left the bags on the floor in time for the shirt to smack him in the face. He blinked down at the red fabric when it fell into his arms, lips parting in confusion. "Why am I changing?" he asked, furrowing his brow. But Laura wasn't listening. She had her back to him and was already peeling off her own shirt, letting him flustered and scrambling to avert his gaze. He swallowed hard, focusing instead on the Queen logo in his hands—its lettering and colors faded but still bright, a relic of another life. When he dared a glance back, she was in a new top—a sleeveless Nirvana shirt that hung off her shoulders like it had been made for her.She looked stunningly gorgeous, moreover when she removed her hair tie, leaving her hair fall over her shoulders in tangles on unravel wilderness."Guess I'll—uh, change too," he mumbled, cheeks burning."Hell yes, food!" she exclaimed, utterly ignoring him and already ruminating through the bags of food. Her excitement was infectious; the dreariness of the cell momentarily lifted under her beaming smile. She went bag after bag, grabbing bags of chips, chocolates, cookies, and all kinds of snacks she could ever have wished for. Still, there was something missing;“Wait a sec," Laura called, raising an eyebrow. "What'd you bring for drinks, BB?"Bobby froze, then let out a frustrated grunt. "That's what I forgot!""You forgot the drinks!" Laura cried in mock outrage. "What kind of party is this? I'm calling the cops on you!”Bobby laughed, raising his hands up onto his head in a symbolic surrender gesture. "I can fix it—hang on!" He rose from his chair and jogged toward the moonshine corridor. Travis grumbled under his breath as Bobby returned, a wooden crate with glass bottles that sparkled in the light clutched tightly within his grasp."Bobby, don't you dare!" Travis warned; but the look of excitement on Laura's face, and Bobby's grin for that matter, told him it was a lost cause."Fuck yeah, BB!" Laura whooped, reaching through the bars. "That's the stuff!""Don't you dare! How old are you again?" he asked Laura with dismay. "Old enough to be locked in a creepy-ass basement with a weird old Sheriff, apparently. Give it to me," Laura demanded, her voice firm. "He's no fun, and he'll just try to keep it all for himself, anyway." Bobby chuckled, cracking open a bottle and passing it to her through the barred, part way-open door. "Laura—" Travis began."Chill, man, seriously," she told him, "I'm of age, alright? It's a little insulting that you can't even remember my date of birth. I remember yours."“Wait, what?”“I’ll tell you later.”He relaxed a little but still held her eyes.“But listen, kid, this isn't some cocktail—it's homemade moonshine that has been aging in that basement for over a hundred years.""You don't have to sell it to me, Travs, I said I was doing it," she laughed, taking a defiant sip, wincing as the moonshine burned down her throat. "Christ, that's strong," she coughed, then grinned wide. "But not strong enough for you to tell me 'I told you so' so mind your fucking business," she said pointing a finger at Travis.He let his hands fall to his sides in defeat. Not like he could argue with her on this—not with her looking this happy, anyway. He glanced down at his own bottle, clinking it softly against the bars with a sigh. "Alright… but take it easy, okay?""Sure thing, Sheriff," she teased, flashing him a mischievous smile as she went to the bags again. Opening the last, her eyes grew like a deer in highlights. Two brown takeaway bags from a fast-food restaurant. Greasy and faded but they were the absolute best thing Bobby could have ever brought. "What's on the menu for today?"“Cheeseburgers with extra bacon, Tommy always gives us the specials," Bobby said much happier since he felt like he was actually a part of the conversation again. "Fuck that sounds fantastic," she sat in the floor in front of Bobby and opened her paper bag to find a plastic container with the hamburger on it, chips, some napkins and a piece of paper."They might be cold already, I had to go to town to grab everything in the afternoon and hide until my parents went to bed," Bobby apologized. "That's alright," she shrugged. "You went to town, Bobby?" Travis asked, curious over his words. "Yeah, told Pa I needed some parts for the car I'm working on.""What is going on in town? Anything about us?”At this Laura raised her head with interest but Bobby looked quite unsure."I'm not supposed to talk about it." His tone was sad but kind of definitive. Laura's shoulder sank and went back to the bag of takeaways. She looked again at that paper stuck on the wall of the paper bag, and her frown deepened when she saw it, just a normal paper with something written on the other side. She peeled it off the bag, which was stuck due to all the oil from the fries, and flipped it over to find herself face to face with a photograph of what she instantly recognized to be the Sheriff of North Kill: Travis Hackett. "Holy shit," she whispered. "Is that—?”“A missing person poster of you!" Laura turned to face Travis. She could hardly tell this man in front of her was the same man in this picture; he had obviously lost weight, the uniform, and had a boho-looking appearance. She then noticed that there were a couple of pages stuck together by the oil and peeled them to discover one for Chris and the kids.“What?" Bobby asked, his voice laced with nervousness. "Fuck, Tommy snuck those inside the bags?"Travis looked inside his own bag of takeaways and there it was, his picture staring him back."There is not one of me?" Laura asked, her voice barely above a whisper from a knot on her throat.
Did they start looking for her in the wrong place? Are they looking for her at all?
"The whole town's covered in those," Bobby finally admitted. "Yours too. Everyone's lookin' for ya now.""Tommy—the owner of the burger place—and our family go way back," Travis said to Laura. "It's obvious they wanted to support us by giving away posters of us to help in the search. They didn't forget about you, I promise. This is just personal."Laura gave him a look of ultimate relief before going back to the soggy picture. Travis scanned the details on the poster, his chest tight with the knowledge of how close the outside world had gotten. "How long have these been up?" His voice was even, but the edge of tension would not be mistaken."A few weeks, maybe," Bobby replied restlessly. "Everywhere I went—store windows, the post office, even at the diner—they've got these up. People are startin' to ask questions.""Where are they searching?""Mostly the summer camp. But—they found your police car, Travis. In the lake."Travis's blood ran cold. "My car?" he asked in a strained whisper.Laura winced, rubbing the back of her neck. "That's… my fault. Max and I ditched it after… well, after we stole it."Travis shot her a look of pure incredulity. "That's damage to public property," he said instinctively, the sheriff still alive despite everything."Yeah, well, cuff me, Sheriff," she shot back sarcastically. Travis just shook his head and turned back to Bobby. "How did they find it?”“They were combing the lake for the counselors. They're talkin' about how it might be connected to the missin' people at Hackett's Quarry. Your name's all over the news, tied to the disappearances. They think you were there when it all went down." Laura's heart sank. "But he isn't—I meant, somehow, but he is innocent.”"You got to admit it all looks a bit suspicious,” Travis raised his hand to his face in irritation. Bobby looked down, his features dark. "Pa told me to fish the bodies from the lake before they searched.”"What bloody bodies in the fucking lake?" Laura asked in incredulity."What bodies?" Travis asked simultaneously, his voice tight. "The counselors?""No, too obvious. We moved those somewhere else around the forest, far from the farm. I meant the hikers that Caleb and I put there. We had to move all the cameras and traps from summer camp too, just in case."“The fucking hikers," Travis spat, his body going wire taut like he'd just been hit with something physical. He stared at Bobby in shocked and disgusted eyes. "How could you?"“They were infected, what did you want us to do?” Bobby muttered, attempting to sound sorry, but it did nothing to lighten the gravity of his words."Keep them safe!" Travis snarled. His voice cracked with raw emotion, disbelieving how deep his family had finally crossed the line. Laura saw the fury in his eyes and knew exactly where his mind had gone—to when he took her and Max, to when he thought he was doing the right thing in locking them up instead of killing them outright. "You keep them locked up—alive—until we could find a way to fix it!”"There weren't enough cells to hold everybody that got involved, Pa said so," Bobby tried to explain, almost in pleading tones. "And the solution is just to kill them all?!" Travis spat, venom dripping from the words as he said them. He couldn’t hold back his disbelief, his voice growing louder with every word. "Better just to commit murder because it's easier than protecting people? That's your solution?"His voice was thick with sarcasm, but beneath that, Laura could hear the deep, aching hurt. This was more than just a difference in methods—this was a betrayal of all that Travis believed in. All his life he had protected people, even to the detriments of his freedom, and now his family—his own flesh and blood—had made murder synonymous with the word survival.“Because that's what you do, right?" Travis grunted, his voice shaking with anger and pain. "Murder's the right thing to do in this family."His heart broke at the realization. The family he had spent his life defending, the family he thought he could protect had become everything he fought against. And the worst part—he had no idea how to stop it.“What do they think happened?" Laura had the guts to ask, observing that Travis was on edge. But before Bobby could answer, Travis interrupted, his tone laced with sudden urgency."What about Chris? And the kids?" The words tumbled out in a heap, fear finally overtaking him. He had harbored this question like a weight from the moment they were imprisoned, gnawing at him day after day.Bobby was silent for a moment, his eyes cast down at the ground. "People think it's all part of the same mess," he muttered inaudibly. "They saw the counselor van had been tampered with. They—”“They think Chris just lost his fucking mind?” Travis snapped, his voice straining with increasing frustration. “Took them to the fucking forest? And what? Lost them? Or that it was me? I just went fucking mental, killed everybody, got rid of the car and what? Disappeared?” His jaw clenched so hard Laura could see the tension building within his whole body."There was all the blood and mess in the lodge that Pa and I just couldn't clean. Now, they're diggin' up stuff, talkin' about how the place is a damn bloodbath. They think somethin' bad happened to 'em, they're callin' it a massacre now," Bobby added in a low tone. "The whole place is under investigation.""Fuck— What— What about me? Where do I come up in this investigation?"Bobby shrugged, obviously that information had been kept classified. Or maybe just to the Hacketts. "Who's heading up the investigation? My team?" Travis was tight on edge. "No, that can't be right. They called the next town too, right?""Yeah, state police too."There was a notch of hope with that information. State police were thorough; they would have more of an opportunity to look for them and hopefully find them rather than his small-town team, who mostly handled incidents involving drunk people in the pub on Saturday nights."And now," Bobby went on, "the police are talkin’ about gettin’ a warrant to search the house. It's only a matter of time before they come pokin' around here."Meaning they'd tried to get inside the house, take a look around the property, and Jedediah refused to let them in. Travis wondered if it was his own team, just peacefully leaving the grounds under his father's view, maybe out of some misplaced loyalty since they might have been acting like grieving parents but still old country folk trying to protect their property.“They want a warrant for Hackett’s Quarry?" Laura asked, her heart racing. "How long ago were they here?" Travis added. "When they first tried."Bobby shrugged, looking clearly uncomfortable. "Could be a few days… maybe a week.”Travis thought for a moment. They might have found it complicated since there wasn't enough evidence showing Jedediah and Constance's involvement, but the closeness of the house to the summer camp would have made them want to try to find any correlation to the crime scene. It may take some time, but once they get it, they're going to search the whole property.“Will they find us?" Laura asked, the edge of hopeness creeping into her voice. "If they search, will they come down here?"Bobby looked at Travis, but the uncertainty in his eyes said otherwise."Hacketts made sure this place couldn't be found, but if they start digging around for secret rooms or tunnels, it's only a matter of time before they figure it out. This basement isn't on the plans, but they're smart. If they get that warrant…They might find us," Travis concluded, his voice grim.His jaw clenched, everything weighing down on him. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a real possibility the police would find it all out. And if his family did find out about it… that wouldn't go so well."What happens if your mom finds out the police are this close?" Laura asked with a whispered voice.Travis's face darkened. "She won't let go. She does whatever it takes to keep this family safe… and part of keeping us safe means no one ever finds us.”He knew all too well what Constance was capable of. The closer the police got, the more likely she would do anything to keep them hidden—or how far she’d go to silence them. "She's not going to let this go without a fight," he said finally, his tone laced with fear and anger.The weight of Bobby’s news hung heavily between them, a thick realization creeping out that their time was running short. Bobby stood before them, more like a confused child than a grown man, and didn't quite know whether to stay or leave.Laura knew, deep down, Bobby couldn't help them. Not with his parents looming over them like a storm. She turned back to Travis—trapped on every level, the four walls moving in closer each day on all of them.“This cellar isn't exactly the best insulated," Travis said in an extremely low, quiet tone—as though the walls might hear him. He glanced around the dark and enclosed area; his eyes sharp and calculating. "Any sound is easily heard from above. Even if they cover the trap door, they'd still hear us if they are in the room. Them or the search K9s, if they bring them."Laura's heart had skipped a beat; her brain was only now catching up on his words. She turned to him, eyes wide with her newfound hope. "Are you telling me that if we're loud enough while they're searching—?”Travis nodded, a flash of determination crossing his tired face."They'll find the trap door down to the cellar," he said, his voice firm.They looked at each other, a silent, mutual moment of relief washing over them—more than any overwhelming feeling of hope they could remember in weeks. This was it, their way out. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight on their shoulders lightened, if only for a brief moment.Laura could barely contain the surge of emotion. She could practically smell the freedom: the fresh air on her face, the sun warming the skin. This was it. They just had to wait for the warrant to go through and then maybe, just maybe, Bobby could say something when they arrived. They wouldn't know that Bobby had told them if their parents weren't allowing Bobby to speak about it, so they wouldn't be aware that they knew the police were coming.Their only concern would be if they covered the trap door, but there wasn’t much they could do about the noise so they might not be too worried about it. That is until the screams of help resonated through the dining room. "Well, we are celebrating," Laura deadpanned, putting aside the missing posters and opening up the bag with hamburgers again. She looked back at Travis, patting the floor beside her. He looked a bit stunned, his brain apparently racing a hundred miles per hour, but his brother was here, so it was not like they could say too much about any plans.He only nodded, joining her on the floor with his own meal. The burgers were cold, soggy, and greasy, it tasted like heaven to Laura. They ate and laughed as they shared stories of their childhoods. Laura spoke of her friends back home, of summertime at the beach, of the dog she really missed, about her years of study, about how much she loved animals.Then she turned abruptly to Bobby, eyes gleaming with mischief.“Hey, BB," she said, smiling. "Tell me a secret about Travis. Something embarrassing."Travis shot her a warning look, raising an eyebrow, but Laura just smiled wider. Bobby fidgeted, looking at Travis. "I don't know…""Oh, come on," Laura teased, nudging the cell bars. "I'll tell one, if you tell one."Bobby looked at Travis again, uncertain. "You sure you wanna hear it?" he asked hesitantly.Travis let out a sigh, rubbing his head. "Just get it over with."Bobby chuckled nervously before blurting out, "Alright, so, back in school, there was this girl—Mandy Clarkson. He kissed her behind the gym once. He saw me looking, tried running to me to hit me, and his shoelaces were untied, so he fell right into the mud. Me and Chris teased him about it for weeks." He leaned back with a grin, dodging Travis's gaze. "She was real pretty, too. Brunette. So yeah… Travis definitely has a thing for brunettes." Laura laughed and took the teasing good naturedly; Bobby's face flushed red as he realized something. "Oh… uh, I mean, not that, you know, blondes aren't… I mean, Travis probably thinks you're, uh, pretty too," he stammered, trying to recover as he glanced at her blonde hair.Travis rolled his eyes. "Real smooth, Bobby," he muttered, shaking his head."That was a real funny one, Big B" Laura claimed, she made a fist bump and bumped it a bit forward against the electrified fence making an electrocuted noise afterwards. Bobby laughed and imitated her on his side. But then Travis leaned forward, his grin turning devious. "Alright, my turn. You remember that time you fell in the lake trying to impress Katie Marshall?"Bobby's face fell, wide-eyed in protest. "No, don't—""Oh, I recall. Bobby here was strutting along the dock during summer camp, acting like he could skip rocks like some kind of rock master, and slipped right in. Lost your shoes, didn't you?" Travis let out a laugh; his eyes sparkled with mirth. "Took him hours to fish them out."“Trav, you said you'd never tell!" Bobby whined, his face bright red, but Laura was already cracking up. "Ma would 've killed me if I lost the shoes!""Now that's a good story," she said, trying to hold her laughter back while giving Bobby a playfully brilliant smile. Bobby crossed his arms with a huff. "I'm never sharing secrets with either one of you again.""Guess we're even now.”"Except… I'm the one who hasn't shared yet, right?" Laura said, placing a couple of chips in her mouth. Travis turned to her with a soft frown, flickers of concern dancing in his eyes. "You don't have to force yourself—”"I'm not forcing anything," she cut him off softly, the smile tight. "It's just. if we are going to be stuck here together, might as well give you guys something to laugh about, right?"She breathed hard; her fingers toyed with the frayed edge of her shirt. "Okay, so… back in middle school, I had such a huge crush on this guy, Carl whatever. So, anyway, I just thought that I was so slick, that I could just find some reason to run into him in the halls or sit next to him in class. Anyway, one day I overheard him talking about how he loved girls that did cool things, like skateboarding or something.”Laura let out a small laugh. "Well, I didn't skateboard. I didn't do anything 'cool' back then. But for some reason, I decided showing up to school in a full motocross outfit would make me stand out. So, I uh— borrowed my cousin's old racing suit and helmet and strutted into school like I was the next big thing on the dirt bike scene. And of course—”Travis's lips twitched. "Let me guess…?"Laura let out a deep sigh, covering her face with one hand. "Of course, I tripped right in front of Carl and face-planted in the cafeteria. Broke my wrist, skinned my chin, and the whole school got to see me carried out like some kind of deflated superhero.”There was one beat of silence, and then Bobby snorted. He tried to stifle it, his shoulders shaking, but then he was beyond control, wheezing with laughter so hard he couldn't catch his breath. Travis, despite everything, cracked a smile; the tension in his shoulders eased."God, I wish I'd been there to see that," Bobby wheezed.Laura rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure it would've been hilarious for everyone except me."Travis leaned back, the smile still playing on his lips. "So, why motocross?""Because I'm an idiot," she returned, utterly deadpan. Then she blew out a breath, her expression softening. "But, I guess… I just wanted to be noticed. Didn't really think it through."Travis's gaze lingered on her a while, his eyes softening. "Seems like we all did some pretty stupid stuff just to be seen, huh?”"Yeah, well… you boys aren't the only ones with regrets," Laura mumbled. "So, I guess that's my contribution to our 'embarrassing story ' club. And now we're really even.""I drink to that," Travis raised his bottle of moonshine and the other two imitated him before giving a small sip, making a disgusted face once the alcohol touched their tongues.And for an instant, the three of them felt something almost like camaraderie, until Laura suggested extending the party further. "Well, dinner's done. What about some music and snacks?""Oh right!" exclaimed Bobby, tugging out his backpack."What's in the big box?" Laura asked, looking at him and a cardboard box beside him. "Old board games. Some of the pieces are missing, but we still can play."From his backpack he pulled out an old CD player and grinned triumphantly at the successful outcome. Travis groaned."You need power for that too, Bobby." Travis grunted in reminder."Hey, stop, you bully—he did the best he could!" Laura cut in sharply, leaping to Bobby's defense. Travis held up his hands in surrender but before he could say a word, Bobby pushed the play button on the CD player.Laura's eyes widened in surprise as music boomed through the cell: rich electric guitars and drums, bouncing off cold concrete walls. Travis stared at the CD player in utter confusion until Bobby leaned in, flashing him a triumphant smile. A high, exuberant laugh escaped Laura, echoing around them."I got batteries, mate. I put the ones you asked in one of your bags," he nodded at the bags on the floor next to Laura. Travis sprang into action, rummaging through the hills of munchies until he found the packages of batteries. Laura's eyes shone with excitement. "What CDs did you bring?”Bobby scratched his head sheepishly. "Uh, some rock stuff. Metallica, Led Zeppelin… and some other ones Ma used to play in summer."Laura's jaw dropped. "Metallica? Dude, I didn't know you were a rocker!" She shuffled through the stack of compact disks Bobby was showing her until she finally selected one. Distinctly recognizable, the riff of "Enter Sandman" blared through the speakers as Laura whooped, jumping to her feet. "Hell yeah! This is how we start a party!"Meanwhile, while Laura and Bobby discussed which CD to play, Travis got the cassette player Laura had grabbed earlier and added some batteries. He then added the headphones Bobby had thrown into that same bag and clicked play. It took but a second before the music started playing. He nodded with satisfaction and left it in bed at the very same time he heard Laura call him."Hey, Travs, come on! Let's go play some Parcheesi."He walked right up to them and saw how Bobby had set the board up on his side of the cell and was holding the player pieces. Even if it was true that the Parchees was a game of colors and easy to play even for the youngest minds, the fact that the three of them were obligated to be red colorblind because the light in the room was going to make the game challenging.“What color do you pick?" Bobby asked Laura, holding the pieces closer to the bars."Hummm the dark red?" she asked, pointing at the one closest to her. "I think that's green," Bobby corrected."Whatever makes you happy, buddy.”Travis sat next to her while she swayed from side to side at the rhythm of the music. She was more into the dancing and the bottle of moonshine than the actual game, but she seemed to want to appease Bobby. "We should have taken the board," Travis said to Laura, signaling the clearest color piece for himself. "Bobby is a cheater."“Fuck off,” Bobby replied on his defense.They played a couple of rounds just for Laura to realize that Travis had indeed said the truth about his cheating brother.They laughed and bicker over the makeshift rules and Bobby throwing the dice too far through the bars, making Laura chase after it. As the night wore on, and the moonshine really started to take its toll, the game board was abandoned since Laura ended up drinking more than a quarter of the bottle of moonshine, ravished half of the snacks, convinced them she could do a balancing act with Maltesers and make them all fall on her mouth— which also proved to be true— and now she was locked in a playful argument with Bobby, determined to put on an old ABBA CD his mother used to love. Travis found it all amusing.When ABBA started playing in the CD player she sprang to her feet, eyes alight with joy as she began to sway and spin in the tiny space in the cell, laughing and wrongly singing to old songs. The moonshine bottle tightly on her hand. "This doesn't sound at all like Mamma Mia ," she complained when the song had different timing from the one she remembered from the movie.Travis sat leaning back against the wall, a leg stretched before him while he rested his other arm on his bending knee.He couldn't help but smile while watching her, his usual guarded expression softening. The way Laura moved, fluidly with the music as if it were an extension of her body, made the metallic cold walls of the cell disappear. For one brief moment, they weren't trapped; they were just friends hanging out on a normal night in. "Your girlfriend's really cool," Bobby murmured from behind him, voice low, sincere.Travis's head snapped straight, his eyes narrowing first on Laura then settling on Bobby. He opened his mouth to correct him, then he hesitated. He turned back to her—to the free-spirited grin spreading across her face, the tilt of her head as she twirled with her eyes closed, lost in the beat of the song. A wave of warmth and appreciation swelled in him, mixing with a bittersweet pang that rose up in his chest."Yeah," he said softly, a small soft smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, she is."Bobby tilted his head before leaning back, letting out a contented sigh as he watched Laura, a goofy grin plastered on his face. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone dance like that before," he said, the wonder evident in his voice.Travis chuckled low in his throat, his eyes still on Laura. "Me neither."For a time they sat in silence, side by side, watching her.Laura moved and laughed, bright flame against the dark of their grim reality. Bobby's comment hung in the air between them, unsaid but strongly implied. There was something mesmerizing about her—the way she let herself go, giving to the music. She danced with an abandon impossible in the tiny space of their cage, her body swaying and spinning with her laughter ringing from cold stone walls. For the first time in a very long time, she seemed… free. Sometime during the night, Laura had raided the old box of merchandise again, dressing herself with every accessory she had found. Bandanas draped around her neck like feather scarves, clunky bracelets jangling around her wrists. She looked more like a three-year-old raiding her older punk sister's wardrobe than a prisoner, which again just added to the hilarity of it. Bobby snickered every time she added another layer, and Travis, leaning against the cell bars, couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. It was all so ridiculous that it gave to the night a strange, buoyant lightness. Then, as if the universe knew they needed it, ‘Dancing Queen' started blasting from the old CD player. The familiar beats filled the space, and Laura lit up in a nanosecond, her face aglow with pure delight."Come on, Trav, get up!" Laura called out in that bright, breathless voice, dancing in place. Her shoulders swayed, her hips rolling to the rhythm, eyes locked to Travis with this mischievous smile.Travis shook his head, lifting his hands defensively. "I'm not much of a dancer."Laura's eyes slitted, and for a moment there was a flash of playful determination in them. "Oh, you're not getting out of this one, Sheriff." She jabbed a finger at him, swaying closer until she was right up in front of him, her face inches from his. "We're dancing, and that's final.”Before Travis could get a word of protest out, Laura reached out and tugged on his hands. He struggled to his feet. A low grunt escaped his lips, but she gave him little time for restraint. She whirled in front of him, her movements as beautiful as they were uninhibited."Laura—" he began to say, his voice half in embarrassment, half in warning."Relax, Travs," she whispered, the teasing grin spreading wider. "It's just a dance. Besides, it's the 'Dancing Queen', and I'm a goddamn queen. So, you gotta follow my fucking lead."Travis exhaled and acquiesced. His fingers shook with indecision, his body tense, refusing to fully let go. Laura's smile expanded, triumphant, as she encouraged him into motion. He swayed from side to side, his eyes never breaking from hers. He was out of place, ill at ease in this strange, absurd moment—but all the same, it was the most human he'd felt in weeks.Laura giggled at his discomfort, her face so close to his. "You're supposed to have fun, you know.""I'm having fun," he mumbled, but his voice didn't quite ring with conviction."Bullshit," she replied, drawing back an inch or two to peer into his face. "Okay, how about this? Loosen up, move with me, or I'll start singing. And you do not want to hear me sing."Travis snorted, a real laugh breaking through his rough exterior. "No, I really don't.""Then shut up and dance, Sheriff."And before he could say anything more, the chorus kicked in. Laura pointed at him dramatically, her voice soaring as she belted out, "You are the Dancing Queen, soft and sweet, only seventeeeeeen!”She took a big swig of moonshine mid-song, but before she could swallow, Bobby howled from behind the cell, "Oh YEAAAH!"Laura completely lost it. She spit the drink out in a spray of laughter, right at Travis's face. Travis staggered back, raising his hands to his eyes with a pained grunt."Jesus' fuck, you got me in the fucking eyes!" he yelled, his voice half-laughing, half-serious.Bobby's booming laughter echoed through the room, but it didn't last. There was a crack followed by a thud. Finally, the wooden chair Bobby had been sitting on gave out, sending him backward to the floor with a crash. Laura, still doubled over in hysterics, collapsed against the bed, her legs giving way completely out from beneath her. Her face scarlet, her breathing coming in gasps as she tried—and failed—to get herself back under control.Travis rubbed his eyes to blink away the sting, but when he glanced over to see Laura crumpled into a fit of giggles, a grin spread across his face. He glanced over at Bobby sprawled on the floor and snorted, trying to hold in his own laughter."Shush," Travis whispered, trying to keep his cool, but finally the absurdity of the night broke through his stoic exterior.He couldn't help but laugh along with them. When Laura started coughing out of laughter, he finally had to give up and help her, giving her small pats in the back as she fought for dear life.They danced the rest of the night. They were bad at it—Travis's steps were awkward and Laura's spins were over exaggerated and ridiculous—but that didn't matter. They laughed and tripped over each other and the makeshift dance floor, shared soft smiles, laughs and lingering touches as the barriers between them melted away, if only for a few precious hours.When the CD player finally clicked off, the sudden silence made both of them realize that Bobby was out cold on the floor, his deep snores now the only sound echoing off the walls. For a moment, Laura felt a flicker of worry as her gaze transferred to the large, unconscious figure; Travis followed her line of sight and gave a slight nod toward the empty bottle of moonshine that lay beside Bobby's head."He'll be fine," Travis said, rubbing his own face, which was weary and exhausted. Laura let out a small exhalation of relief at Travis's calm.They couldn't change the CD from in the cell or turn it back on, so with Bobby knocked out and the music finished, the party was over. They both slid to the cold, unforgiving concrete floor to sit side by side, their shoulders lightly touching. The red hue of the dim light cast strange shadows around the room, a constant reminder of their reality.Laura let her head fall back against the thin mattress behind her, still flushed from a mixture of exertion and alcohol. A lazy, pleased smile lingered on her lips as a high from the night's laughter and absurdity continued to buzz through her veins. With everything going on, all the horrors they had faced and the unknown ahead, for just that moment, it felt… almost normal."You're not as bad at dancing as you think," she purred."Yeah?" Travis raised one eyebrow, his eyes drifting over her face as if studying every contour."Yeah." Laura turned her head slightly, the gaze catching. "Maybe next time, I can teach you some moves."Travis chuckled low in his throat. "You think there's gonna be a next time?""Why not?" The smile was softer now, more real. "Stranger things have happened."Between them, a comfortable, warm silence fell. Travis's gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he turned away, looking at Bobby snoring on the other side of the metal walls."Maybe," he said softly, his voice filled with calm. "We'll see."Laura reached over, brushing her fingers against his hand—a small, fleeting touch. Travis didn't pull away."Yeah," she whispered, letting her hand fall away. "We will."With that, they both leaned back, and night seemed to sweep away with only the echo of Bobby’s snores in the room. They didn't say too much more after that, the gravity of their circumstance looming at the edges of this tenuous joy. For now, though—in this small pocket of time—they allowed themselves to simply be, two people finding comfort in the company of another.Eventually, they fell asleep like this, sitting shoulder to shoulder on the cool cement, closer than before, with the ghost of shared laughter still in the air. The first thing Travis noticed upon waking was the overpowering presence of Bobby's snoring.It was loud and grating, echoing around the basement like a chainsaw. Travis winced, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to sit up. A sharp pain shot through his back, and he swore softly under his breath. His night on the cold concrete floor of the cell had left him sore, reminding him of a time when as a crazy teenager he would lie on the hard, cold ground after a night out. Mumbling to himself, he leaned over towards his side, where Laura lay curled up, her features softened by sleep. Heat raged in his ears at the memory of their clumsy dancing and shared laughter. It had been—nice. Far too nice for a place like this. He grunted and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts."Goddamn it, Travis. You are getting too old for this kind of crap," he said to himself.With a resigned sigh, he reached over carefully and slid his arms under Laura's shoulders and legs. His back shouted in protest as he lifted her up, his teeth clenched against the pain of his sore muscles. Laura mumbled something unintelligible, her body limp as she stirred, but she didn't resist. He laid her down on the bed, tugging the thin blanket up over her.Once she was settled, Travis turned his attention to the cell wall. Bobby was slumped in the floor on the other side, his head tipped back and mouth hanging open. The snoring continued, obnoxiously loud.Travis's eyes narrowed. He grabbed a handful of Parchís figures and dice left on the floor—courtesy of Bobby's ‘party’ supplies— and started tossing them at his brother.One after another, the pieces all bounced off his head and shoulders, but the big man didn't stir. Travis's patience grew thin, and he aimed just a little higher, finally managing to land a small, plastic figure right into Bobby's open mouth.“Gah! " Bobby gagged, jolting upright with a startled choke. His face went red as he coughed violently, tears springing to his eyes. "The fuck, Travis!" he spluttered, staring at his brother in confusion and indignation.Travis didn't bat an eye, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared back with a glare through the cell bars. "The fuck indeed. What time is it? You were supposed to be gone by now, aren't you?”Bobby continued to blink hard several more times; his brain was still fuzzy from sleep. He looked around the basement, then his eyes went wide in sudden realization. "Oh shit, you're right!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet so fast he almost tripped over the broken leftovers of the chair.“I gotta take the TV back up before Pa wakes up or he'll kill me!" Bobby babbled, scrambling to gather his stuff. He started shoving the Parcheesi board, scattered pieces, and half-empty bottles into his backpack and bags with twitchy movements, muttering to himself all the while. "And the chair— Goddamn it!”Travis watched his expression softening despite himself. Bobby might have been a mess, but his intentions were… sweet, in a way. A small, unexpected smile tugged at his lips.Bobby hefted the TV onto his shoulder, turning to leave, but then paused as if remembering something. "I'll bring coffee down as soon as it's brewed, okay?" he offered hurriedly, his voice laced with a rare earnestness.Travis blinked, taken aback. He hadn't had coffee since he'd been locked up in this godforsaken cell. He nodded, the smile lingering on his lips. "Thanks, brother." He paused, turning around to look at the still figure of Laura on the bed. "Two cups? If it's possible?”A grin spread across Bobby's face as he forgot his earlier panic. "I'll see what I can do!" he exclaimed before running down the hall, the TV bouncing precariously on his shoulder.Travis watched him go, and a strange warmth bloomed in his chest. It wasn't much, just a cup of coffee, but here small gestures meant the world. He lay down on the floor, settling down with the escape plan’s notebook that had become his lifeline. He'd read it a hundred times, committed every page to memory, every plan they'd devised. Yet, with the fogginess of last night's drunkenness, a whole load of ideas coalesced, and he wrote them down with precision.Laura stirred, a low groan escaping her lips as she came awake. She blinked against the dim light, one hand pressing against her temple. Her face twisted in a grimace of pain."Morning, sunshine," Travis drawled, his tone dry with amusement. He leaned over and offered her a bottle of water and a couple of painkillers. "Told you you'd regret it, didn't I?"She gave him a withering look, but without real malice. She took the water and pills gratefully, gulping them down in a few quick sips."Bobby said he'd bring coffee," Travis added softer."Mm, joy," Laura muttered under her breath, pressing her forehead against her knees. Everything in her body hurt and even the sound of Travis's voice was a little too loud. Still, she was glad he was there—talking, fussing, making the horrid headache bearable in his own grumpy fashion.The minutes ticked by, the cellar growing quiet once more as expectations of coffee grew thinner and more tenuous. When Bobby didn't return, Travis's concern began to simmer just below the boil. He started to pace the length of the cell, looking up the stairs every few minutes, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.Something was wrong. He could sense it, as sure as a lead weight settling in his gut. He glanced over at Laura, half-dozing on the bed, still pale and drawn. He didn't want to freak her out—not when she was already trying to cope with the hangover morning after their drunken night.But as the minutes passed, that feeling of unease just increased. Something was surely going on upstairs. And whatever it was… it couldn't be good.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The hours in the cell crawled slowly, with only the slight, muffled creaks of the old house above and the occasional shuffling of Travis and Laura as they tried to find ways to keep themselves occupied. It was quiet, almost oppressively so, and the longer Bobby stayed away, the more silence mounted.Travis sank to the floor, back against the coolness of the metal bars as he flipped through the pages of an old book they found on the old box. His eyes scanned over the words without taking in a single one; his mind was elsewhere. He lifted his head occasionally to the stairs, half expecting the heavy thud of Bobby's boots to echo through the basement, but the sound never came.Beside him, Laura shifted uncomfortably on the bed. She'd read halfway through her book herself before finally lying down and tossing it aside, letting it slide across the bedspread. She let out a small sigh and turned to Travis, searching his face for some semblance of reassurance, and found instead a reflection of her own terror. Bobby had become that strange sort of normality in their nightmare, an oafish protector who brought food and news from the outside world. Now that he was gone, the concrete walls seemed to shut in even more closely. It was well past lunchtime now, she could feel it as her stomach rumbled in protest, hungry."Shouldn't he be back by now?" she whispered, her voice breaking the long silence. "It's not like him to—well, to skip feeding us."Travis shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned, but the furrow in his brow told of his own worry. "Yeah, it's… strange." He closed the book with a muted thud and leaned his head back against the bars, staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe something came up. I don't know.""Do you think the police are here for the warrant?"Travis shook his head. "Too soon.”Laura frowned, tucking her knees up to her chest. "He said he'd be right back… Just to put the TV and stuff away. Didn't he say he was bringing coffee?"Travis sighed, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off this nagging sense of unease that had taken root. "Hell if I know. It's Bobby. Anything could have happened. Maybe Pa needed him for something.”"Or…", Laura began, the words trailing off as she chewed her bottom lip. "Maybe your mother—"Just the mention of her was enough to make Travis's jaw clench. He shifted uncomfortably and his eyes darkened. "Maybe.”They were silent again, lost in their own worlds. Time ticked by, then an hour and two hours. The only reminder of the passing of so much time was the growling of their hunger. Laura leaned back against the wall, massaging her temples. The worst of the hangover had passed, but a dull ache still pulsed at the back of her skull."You think…?" she started off tentatively, like she was breaking the silence for a second time. "You think he got hurt or something?"Travis shook his head, but it was more for his benefit than hers. "Negative , Bobby's tougher than he looks. If something happened… we'd know by now. We'd hear it."Laura nodded slowly, though she didn't seem entirely convinced. She glanced over at the stairs again, worry knitting her brow. It was strange, she realized now, how easily Bobby had become a… constant in their lives down here. A presence they could count on, in his own bumbling, awkward way.They kept waiting, hours slipping into each other as they tried diverting their minds. Travis went back to reading, though Laura saw him staring steadily at the same page for almost half an hour. She drew shapes in the dust on the bed frame as her mind began to wander. When the rumbling in her stomach went from a low growl to a sharp pang, she knew it was well into evening.It was late—almost unnervingly so—when the now-familiar heavy footsteps finally echoed down the stairs. Laura and Travis looked up at the same time; their eyes met for a brief second before darting toward the door. Bobby appeared a moment later, lugging a tray loaded with food. He wore a sheepish expression on his face, along with a faint scratch on his right cheekbone."Sorry 'bout that," he muttered, easing the tray to the floor outside the cell. "Didn't mean to take so long.""What happened?" Travis rose, his eyebrows furrowing with concern."BB, what the hell happened to your face?" Laura gestured to the scratch mark darkening Bobby's cheek.Bobby winced, reaching up to rub at the spot with a rueful grin. "Ah, it's nothin'. Just—well, Mom was awake when I went upstairs—" he explained, his gaze darting guiltily between Travis and Laura. "She wasn't exactly happy."Travis's lips tightened into a thin line. "Did she hit you?”“Nah, nah, nothin' like that," he said quickly, raising a hand. "She just, y'know… got a little… upset, is all." He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly on his feet. "But I brought dinner!" He jerked a hand out toward the tray, forcing a bright smile. "Figured you'd be hungry. Sorry about the coffee.”Laura's expression softened; the annoyance and hunger were forgotten for now. "Sorry," she said quietly. The way he said it—casual, as to not to worry them—made her heart twist. She gestured to the tray of food and then up to him. "You wanna join us?”Bobby's eyes widened in surprise, looking between them as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. "Join… you? Like, sit and eat?"Laura nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. I mean, not in here." She waved her hand around the cell. "But you can get another chair or sit on the floor with us and eat out there. We can talk, keep each other company."Bobby's face brightened in equal parts gratitude and hesitation. "I'd—yeah, I'd like that," he said more quietly. "Ain't allowed at the table upstairs right now. Pa's still mad." He scuffed his weight once, looking down at the tray. "But I thought—maybe if I sat here… Would that be okay?”"Of course, that's okay," Laura assured, a real smile breaking through the fatigue on her face.Bobby nodded enthusiastically. They went through all the cell procedure before he returned back upstairs for his own tray of food. He came back with another chair and sat, setting up his food on his lap. The three of them ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the atmosphere strangely comfortable despite the circumstances.Travis turned to Bobby's face again, taking in the damaged cheek, his voice softening. "Thanks for bringing this down."Bobby shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "Just wanted to make sure you two were okay.""We're okay, thanks to you." Laura made a fist bump towards the cell and made the same expression of electrocution that she played to him last night, making him laugh softly. He imitated her.She leaned back, taking a small bite of her food. "So… how mad was your mom, really?"Bobby let out a small chuckle, though there was a tinge of anxiety beneath it. "Real mad. Probably gonna be mad for a while. But she's… calmer now." He glanced between them, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "I think she just needs time.”Travis said nothing. He nodded slowly. His gaze caught Laura's and she gave him the faintest smile. It wasn't much, but it was… something. A strange sense of camaraderie seemed to hang in the air as they continued eating, making small talk.It felt almost normal despite hangovers and bleak situations. It was a flitting comfort in chaos—a moment to be held on to, no matter how fragile.The meal passed silently for a few minutes, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery, the odd slurp of water. Laura looked up, watching Bobby beyond the bars and at Travias at her side as they ate. Bobby's eyes were downcast, focused on the food; Travis picked at his plate absent-mindedly, his gaze faraway.The tension after Bobby explained himself hung in the air like an invisible weight. As much as Laura appreciated his effort, she couldn't help but tell him what was really on her mind."She's such a bitch," Laura said suddenly, her voice bitter, as she laid her spoon down. She leaned back to have a better look at them, hardening her eyes as she looked between the two men. "Your mother, I mean."The comment hung in the air a second too long. Bobby blinked, and even Travis looked up sharply, his eyes wide in surprise. There was silence for a moment before both brothers turned to each other, an unspoken communication passing between them.“Yeah," Bobby said, almost grudgingly. "She's—not been easy lately." He scratched the back of his neck as if getting the words out was a chore. "I guess. I guess you could say she's been—rough.”Laura snorted softly, shaking her head. "Rough? That's one hell of an understatement." She gestured around the cell they were sitting in. "Locking you up in here, keeping us both like animals? It's not normal, and it's definitely not okay."Travis let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping a little. "That's true." He hesitated, glancing briefly at Bobby before looking back at her. "But she wasn't always like this.”Laura's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?""I mean…" Travis said, drawing a deep breath before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "She changed. Ever since the whole werewolf mess, things started getting'…worse. She was always a bit controlling, but back then, she was—”"—a good mom," Bobby cut in, his tone gentle and almost beseeching. He looked up at Laura then with an expression she had never seen on his face before: earnestness, tinged with a strange sort of desperation. "She really was. She… she just wanted to protect us. From everythin'. From everyone. Even from ourselves sometimes."Laura glanced between them, trying to reconcile what she was hearing with the woman she'd come to know—the one who'd trapped her here and shown no mercy. "Protect you? I don't—”"She was different," Travis murmured, his eyes going distant. "When we were kids, before all this supernatural crap was going on, she did what she could for us. Ma worked her fingers to the bone trying to keep us fed and clothed, and she made sure we had what we needed. Hell, she even put up with Pa's… rants and plans. Made sure we wanted for nothing."Bobby nodded vigorously, a small smile cutting through his usual impassive expression. "Yeah, she did! You remember how once Pa got it in his head he wanted to build us a boat?”Travis's lips twitched, a small burble of a chuckle escaping. "I remember. Took him months to finish it. Ma kept saying it was a waste of time, but she still made sure we had lunch out there every day while we worked on it.""And when it was finally done, Pa tried to take it to the lake, but it sank straight to the bottom? I think it’s still there." Bobby's smile got wide, and for a second, the scratch on his face seemed to disappear. "I thought Ma was gonna kill him for wasting all that time and wood, but she just laughed. We all did."Laura's eyes blinked once in surprise. It was hard to imagine Constance, the rigid uncompromising woman she'd met, laughing and enjoying time with her kids. "I didn't think she had it in her.""She did," Travis said softly. "She'd… she'd read to us at night, you know? When we were little. Told us stories about angels in the woods, and how we had to be careful and stay close. She wasn't trying to scare us. She was trying to keep us safe. Teach us values." He rubbed the back of his neck, his face shadowed with what definitely looked like guilt. "Even if she got a little—well, intense about it as we got older.”“Little intense?" Laura snorted, not much behind it. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her knees as she listened. "Sounds like more than that to me.”Bobby's smile faltered, and he looked away. "Things changed after Caleb and Kaylee got bit… and when Chris…" He trailed off as his eyes clouded over in a mixture of emotions. "She got worse. More scared. More angry. But she's still… Ma. She's still our mom.”Travis didn't say anything more, keeping his thoughts inside. His eyes whispered upwards, to the ceiling, as if he could see through the wooden floors to wherever Constance was now. "She always had a different face when Kaylee was around. She did what she thought was best, even if it… even if it hurt us. But back then it was well intended."Laura frowned, hugging her knees tighter against her chest. "And what she's doing now? You think that's 'best' too?"Travis let out a long sigh, his head shaking from side to side real slow. "No. This… this isn't right. She has totally deteriorated mentally. This is not the same woman who kissed our wounds and hugged us when we cried. She's lost so much. Now she's left with nothing to love—It's that kind of loss that does things to people. Makes them do things they'd never do otherwise." He paused and looked into his brother's eyes. "She believes this is the only way to keep the family moving, but It's wrong. Grief can be a double-edged sword, but it's no justification for what she is doing—for what she is making you do, either.”Laura didn't say anything, just digested their words. She could see the battle behind their eyes—the need to reconcile the mother they loved with the woman who had become something alien. It didn't excuse Constance's behavior, but it made it more complex. More human."It doesn't change the fact she's hurting you," Laura whispered finally, her voice low but filled with steel. "Both of you.""Yeah," Bobby agreed, the weight of it slumping his shoulders. He gave a slight, sad smile. "But we still love her. She's still our mom."Laura let out a small, exasperated sigh, but with no real anger inside. There was just that quiet acceptance of something she wasn't quite grasping. Family was complicated, and this family was even more so.They were all silent for a moment once more, the only sound that of the chair creaking as Bobby shifted. Then, out of nowhere almost, Bobby turned to Laura, curiously yet a little hesitantly. "Uh, what about your mom?" he asked awkwardly. "She, uh… what's she like?" Laura blinked, taken by surprise with the question. She hadn't really thought about her mom in a long time, not since she'd gotten trapped in this nightmare. There'd been thoughts of her smile, memories, but nothing much about what she must be facing."My mom? " She echoed, almost as if she needed a second to remember. "She's… strong. A hard-ass sometimes, but she's fair. And kind. And she's always pushed me to be my best."Bobby nodded slowly, leaning in a little closer. "Does she… does she know you're here?”“Bobby—” Travis prompted. He knew the innocence of his brother, but this was a hard question to ask.The question punched Laura in the gut. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, shaking her head slowly. "No. She… she has no idea what happened to me." She looked at Travis, something raw and vulnerable in her eyes. "She probably thinks I'm dead."A heavy silence followed as the weight of Laura's words settled over them like a thick fog. Bobby swallowed hard, lowering his head."Sorry, Laura. Didn't mean to—""It's okay, Big B," she cut in softly, the small strained smile twisting her lips. "It's not your fault." Bobby nodded, his face creased with sympathy and something else—an unspoken sadness that he didn't know how to express. They sat in the shared silence, being able to offer each other no comfort except for their presence and the stories of a better time. Then Laura looked at them and realized that even though Bobby was on the other side of the cell, in a certain way, the three of them were prisoners in one way or another.The days after the impromptu party slipped by in a sluggish, unreal rhythm. They had no clocks, no daylight, so time bled into time in a murky blur, marked only by Bobby's irregular visits.Every day was a weird new normal. Travis and Laura eventually fell back into their routine: reading the small collection of books, swapping stories about their childhoods, their families, and the outside world beyond these cement walls; exercising; reading the notebook hoping to hear any signal that the police were coming to the house for an inspection.Sometimes they would talk for hours, lying side by side on the cold floor of the cell and leaning their heads backward against the rough surface. Other topics would consist of deep personal confessions to even trivial debates over which snack food was best — Laura hands down won the argument when Bobby snuck in a package of Twizzlers, and they promptly declared them to be the better choice.When they weren't talking, Laura spent her hours flipping through the stacks of old cassettes, listening until the music hummed in her veins and the lyrics buzzed through her head like some sort of mantra. Batteries became a rare and precious currency. She ran through them at an alarming rate, but the silence was unbearable without the distraction. Travis couldn't say he blamed her. And so, he would ask Bobby for more, knowing his brother would do his best to bring them, even if it means being as sneaky as a thief in his own home.Bobby's visits became a lifeline of sorts. Often, Laura would invite him to share meals, and he'd accept with quiet gratitude. It was weird to watch the three of them eat together in a fractured sort of companionship, like they were a family bound together with chains no one could see.And when he wasn't around, silence crept in once more, thick and heavy.Travis's hair was shaggy and unruly, his beard filled in along his jaw. It itched like hell, but there was no way to shave it down here. He tried not to care, but it sometimes bothered him—feeling himself become less and less like the man he used to be. Laura, though… Laura adapted better. Her hair was tangled, wild, as if she was untamed, a force of nature. There were times when, leaning against the wall, headphones on and swaying slightly with the rhythm, he found himself staring at her.Those bright eyes would catch him in the act, knowingly, and that smirk would bloom on her lips, like she knew exactly what he was thinking."Yeah?" She'd challenge light, voice in a low murmur. "Something you wanna say?"And every time, he'd look away, the shaking of his head in a half-smile that never made it into his eyes as he repeated over and over, strained. "Nothing, just—don't fall off the bed." Laura just smiled at him—that defiant, stubborn smile that said she wasn't afraid of anything, let alone these damn cages.They continued their training during the long stretches of waiting. They did push-ups, sit-ups, and squats—anything to distract themselves and their bodies. Sometimes they would create little challenges with one another, to make things interesting and see who could sustain it longer. Travis usually took the lead, but Laura was as persistent as a bull. She'd keep at it until her arms shook and the sweat dripped down her face, and then she would collapse onto the floor with a laugh. It was something in particular he liked about her. She had a strength beyond that of the physical, a dogged, unyielding will that would not bend or break.It wasn't always easy. There was frustration simmering beneath the surface, the odd flash of temper erupting out of nowhere. They'd snap at each other over nothing and for everything. She had once thrown a book at him—a light paperback that barely made it a couple of meters—because he'd told her to take a break when she was obsessively counting out push-ups. He'd glared at her, she'd glared right back, and they'd simmered in silence until Bobby showed up with dinner and a guilty expression.Then, there were the quiet moments. Laura would lie sprawled out on the narrow bed, eyes half-closed, while Travis read aloud from whatever novel was on hand. His voice would reverberate softly in the small space, the sound of the words blending with the steady hum of her own heartbeat in the silence of the cage. And as the story unfolded, he'd see the tension slip from her shoulders, a small smile tugging at her lips.Sometimes she'd fall asleep like that, her breathing even and calm. He'd keep reading anyway, if only to fill the silence. It wasn't much, but it was something. It made them feel almost human again.Time passed, marked by the scruff that grew thicker along Travis's jaw. He thought, sometimes, that he was becoming less himself in this cell—that he was losing parts of who he used to be, shedding them like an old skin.But then Laura would laugh, sudden and bright, or she'd toss some playful comment his way, and it'd pull him right back. Anchor him to the present.They only had to wait for the police to come to the house. When they could hear people upstairs, they could scream for help. And, fortunately, be saved.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
That day had felt like any other, ordinary enough to lull them into a false sense of security. Travis and Laura were in the middle of their push-up competition when the noise of heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs. They paused, still catching their breaths, and felt energy packed within their bodies from the exercise."You're early today," Laura commented, furrowing her brow as she wiped sweat from her face.Travis stood and ambled to the door of the cell when Bobby arrived with their usual meals. But something was wrong; Bobby had only two trays instead of three."You aren't staying?" Laura asked, eyeing him curiously.Bobby shook his head. "Not today. Pa's got me helping with some work, and Ma says it'll take a while. She figured I should feed you now, just in case I'm tied up for the rest of the day."Laura took the tray from Travis, settling on the bed. "Fair enough. See you later?”“If I'm free, I'll come down for dinner," Bobby replied—his tone strangely flat before he disappeared up the stairs, disappointed for not being able to join them.Travis sat down near the door, eyeing the food with his usual suspicion, but he was used to it by now. They ate in silence, savoring the familiar taste of the stew. The rich, comforting flavor filled his mouth, but as he continued eating, something changed, shifted.His limbs went heavy, a weight slowly pressing down on him by some unseen force. His vision dimmed at the edges, the sharpness of his surroundings hazing off into something unreal and dreamlike. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to fight off the exhaustion that suddenly washed over him."Travis?" Laura's voice came out strained. He turned to look at her, the spoon dangling loose from her fingers, her face pale and confused.The spoon fell to the floor, and her tray tipped over, spilling stew in all directions. He stared down at his own tray, and finally the realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Damn.
They'd been drugged.
Without thinking of anything more than blind instinct, despite his exhaustion, he heaved himself up onto his feet, every muscle complaining as he staggered towards Laura. He thought he heard the sound of his own tray falling to the floor and smashing, but it was muffled, as if from afar. Barely conscious, her body sagged forward, the only instinct left on her kicking in—to get closer to him. He caught her just in time before she hit the floor, pounding in his chest, his mind racing.
They're coming for her. They're going to take her. I won't let them.
His head spun, the darkness threatening to consume him. He fought it desperately. With his vision swimming and his limbs filled with cement, he fumbled for the handcuffs from his police gear that he stacked under the bed. What was left from his uniform. His hands shaking and slipping, he hurried, knowing he would pass out at any second.He couldn't let them take Laura. The thought of him finally awakening to an empty cell, of her being gone or worse, dead, fueled his last energy. He would not lose her, he couldn't.Laura's eyes were half-closed, her breathing shallow and panicked. "Tr—" she managed, a slur from his name."I got you," he promised in a voice thick with fear and exhaustion. "I got you. I won't let them take you." Every second was a struggle, a fight to keep at bay the black fog that was overtaking his vision. He struggled against it, desperately.With the last ounce of willpower he had left, he got into bed next to her. He pulled her body closer against him, right arm beneath her waist, his body sheltering her against the wall from any upcoming threat that arrived while they slept.He reached for the key of the cuffs with shaking fingers, stuffing it in his mouth, wedging it between his cheek and teeth—concealing it from anyone who dared try taking her. The metallic taste filled his mouth, but he did not care. He then enfolded his free arm around her, his fingers fumbling clumsily with the cuffs. His wrists shook as he cuffed them together—his wrists wrapped around her body, pinning her against him. He could hear the erratic pounding of his heart, and his chest tightened, but he wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. Not until they were tied together, until there was no way to tear her away from him."T—Travis…." Laura whimpered, hanging on by a thread."I'm here… I'm right here," he rasped, his vision blackening around the edges, the weight of sleep pulling him under. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight it, trying to stay awake just a little longer. But his body was failing him. He collapsed beside her, his arms around her, pulling her closer.In one final desperate act, he pressed her against him, their bodies locked. The metal of the cuffs dug into his skin, but he didn't care. All that mattered was they wouldn't be able to take her from him. Not easily at least. Fighting until the end.The last thing he remembered was the sound of his own ragged breathing, the pounding of his pulse in his ears, the feel of Laura's soft, steady breaths against his face.
Please… don't wake up alone.
Then darkness claimed him. There was a grating noise coming from the corridor, like if heavy weights were being dragged across the old, creaky wood floor over their heads. The cell felt even smaller now; cold musty air wrapped around them much like an indecorous, smothering blanket. The dim red glow of the light cast long shadows that distorted the already oppressive space.Hearing was the first sense Travis became aware of. Wood scraping along wood in an ear-splitting shriek, an unsettling noise in the deep silence of the cellar. He blinked hard, trying to force his eyes to open, but somehow the weight of his body would not move on command. The weak red light spilled across his eyelids, and it distorted the space around him: shifted it. Slowly he started to regain feeling—the heavy and uncomfortable sensation of his arm completely numb below the weight of another body.
Laura.
Panic kicked in as his mind caught up. It was quickly followed by relief as he got the soft, steady touch of her breathing on his face. She was still here. Still breathing. Still with him. His heart was hammering against his ribs, racing to process what was going on. They had not been moved. Whatever his family's sick scheme had been, they were still in the cell together.Every breath was heavy, the weight of the drug still dragging at his limbs. Travis blinked slowly, his vision in and out of focus as he fought the urge to let his eyes shut once more. Fighting them open, stinging from the dim red light, he found her there—her face right in front of him, eyes moving beneath her eyelids. She stirred, her breath catching in her throat as awareness seeped back into her body, her eyes opened, gaze suddenly locked with his. There was fear and confusion in her eyes—a thick impenetrable layer of disbelief. "It's—" Travis croaked; his throat was dry, and his voice was hoarse and thick with discomfort. The side of his mouth throbbed painfully; the key he had hidden between his teeth had dug into his cheek and gums. He swallowed, then tried again. "It's okay—Can you move?" Laura stared at him, eyes wide, stunned. Then, after a moment, she nodded, slow. He mimicked her own weak nod. Slowly and with great effort, Travis managed to pull the key from his mouth with his tongue, holding it between his teeth. He motioned for her to take it."Need you to get them off," he mumbled.It took her a second to understand what he meant, her eyes fixed on that key in his lips.She grabbed it and turned, making him wince as her body pressed against his deadened arm, the cuffs biting into his wrist.He tried to mask the pain, but the sensation of his blood finally flowing again was agonizing, like a thousand needles stabbing him. Laura fumbled with the key, her fingers still sluggish from the drug but with a few awkward twists, she finally managed to unlock the cuffs. The moment his arms were free he gave a sigh of relief. Travis pulled them out from underneath her, shaking out the pins and needles from his sleep limb. His muscles ached, circulation finally coming back in painful waves. Laura sat up, taking stock of their surroundings, her gaze still dazed. "We're still here," Laura whispered, her tone laced with confusion as she looked around the cell. "Why drug us if they didn't do anything to us?""I don't know yet," Travis grunted, rubbing his wrist. "They were dragging something upstairs when I woke up."The noise continued, faint but persistent—the sound of footsteps and furniture shifting above them. Laura's expression tightened as she listened."That's what woke me too," she whispered. "It sounded like…”“Like they were dragging something over the trap door." Travis finished her thought, his tone clipped. He didn't look at her, didn't let on that his mind was racing, piecing together something far worse than he wanted to admit."What?" Laura pressed, sensing his unease. "What do you think it is?”Travis didn't answer, his jaw clenching tight. He wasn't ready to say it aloud. He couldn't. Not until he knew for sure. "I need to talk to Bobby," he muttered, brushing her off."What do you think it is, Travis?" she pressed, her voice sharper.He finally looked away, hunching down to focus on the mess beside them on the floor: the two discarded bowls of drugged stews. "We should clean this up before we step on the broken pieces," he said softly—another deflection. Yet, he knew she saw right through him, knew she wouldn't let it go, and he wasn't ready to face that truth yet.Not when the weight of their situation hung so thickly in the air, smothering them both.They cleaned the floor in silence; the air around them was heavy with tension. Travis could all but hear the gears grinding inside Laura's head as she struggled to make something out of the fog of the drugs that still clung to them like a parasite. His head was a mess with thoughts racing through his mind, possible scenarios, none of which were welcoming.The sound of footsteps on the stairs cut through the haze. Travis's head snapped up, his eyes sharp as he turned toward the corridor. In another second, Bobby appeared, tired, dirty, and coated with dust and sweat. His overalls were muddy, his face weary.Travis didn't waste any time with greetings. "Was the police here?" he growled. Laura froze, dropping the rag she'd been using to clean the broken mess in the floor, her body going stiff with dread. She stood beside him, pale, her eyes wide and desperate as they fastened onto Bobby. He came to a dead stop in mid-stride, clearly taken aback by the sharpness in Travis's tone. But Travis wasn't letting it go. "Was the police at the house today with a fucking warrant, Bobby?!”Bobby nodded, his face full of guilt, but there was something else in his expression—maybe helplessness. Laura sank to her knees, hugging herself with desperate realization. Her breath was rapid and desperate, realizing with despair what just has transcended."How long were they in the house?" Travis pressed on, his voice harsh and unrelenting."Hours. Like three or four. I didn't know they were coming until they showed up, but Pa seemed to know.”"Quit playing dumb with me. You helped them drug us!" Travis's anger now boiled over, frustration barely contained.Bobby looked completely confused. "What? Drug you? The hell are you talking about?”“The fucking stew! You knew they were coming and you helped them keep us quiet!” Travis accused, teeth bare. “No! Ma woke me up to tell me that dad needed help around the house. She told me to feed you first, that she had done an early stew for both of you, then to cover the trap door with the carpet and set the dinner table on top for a few hours. She didn’t tell me why. Then the police showed up! Pa told me to stay at the scrapyard until they left, and when I came back, the police were leaving.”Travis swore under his breath, pacing the small cell like a caged animal. "This doesn't make sense. Warrants don't come with a fucking warning. There's no way Dad could've known they were coming today.”Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "He—he took your police radio from your place in town. Said we needed to stay one step ahead, and since you weren't here to inform them, that was the next best thing."Travis swore again, louder this time. His heart was racing in his chest as the anger, frustration and sense of betrayal boiled. "You told them, didn't you? You told them we were planning to scream for help when the police got here!"“No!" Bobby looked horrified, his voice engulfed in a desperate tone. "I didn't tell them anything! I didn't even know the police were showing up until this morning! I wanted to warn you, but the trap door was locked!"“Because of you! You lying piece of trash!” Travis spat at him as he stepped forward, face to face with the metallic bars of the cell. “Were you staying with us just to snitch? To report everything back to them?”Bobby's face contorted in hurt. "I didn't tell them shit, Travis! I wasn't s'posed to tell you nothin' at all. If I told 'em you knew about the warrant they'd know I'd been talkin' to you!"Travis lunged against the door, driven to the edge by his anger, but before he could act Laura's voice cut through the tension."Enough!" she yelled, standing again. Her chest heaving with emotion. "Please, just… enough." She broke, a tear spilling down her cheek, but she washed it up with a swift motion of her hand. "My brain's still fucking soup, and I can't deal with this shit right now."Travis froze, his mouth half-open, but Laura raised a hand."Please. I get it. I know you're mad, I know. I'm angry, too. But this is what it is. I believe him, and you do, too. We can't tear each other apart like this. I want to scream, I want to kick and yell, but that's not going to fix anything. It's just going to make my throat hurt. So just, please… stop.”Travis swallowed hard, his hands shaking with the effort to keep calm. He nodded once, wordlessly. Then, slowly, he turned back to Bobby, the fire in his eyes damped but not extinguished. "Did you recognize anyone? Anyone we know?" Bobby hesitated and then nodded. "Yeah. Denis and Carmen were there. From your team. That's the last car I saw leaving. They were talking with Pa.” Travis's heart sank. Good men, and to think of them ransacking his family home while he lay here, helpless, was a bitter, cruel thought."You didn't get a chance to talk to them?"Bobby shook his head, eyes cast down. "Pa didn't let me anywhere near the house while they were here. They waved at me from the car on their way out.”Travis clenched his teeth, let his shoulders sag under the weight of defeat. His breath caught in his chest, but he deliberately set his face in a mask. For Laura's sake. For the sake of his sanity. He nodded, the weight of it all settling upon him like a lead blanket, suffocating, inescapable.As Laura steadied herself, composing herself inside the mask she has created to survive this prison, Travis turned to Bobby, still uncomfortably standing by the cell door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His face had guilt written across it; he wanted to help but didn't know how, didn’t know how to bypass his family’s orders to help his brother. Travis turned back to him; the tension was still crackling in the air like static, but now with an edge of finality.“Bobby, just… go," Travis said, his voice gruff but controlled. "We don't need anything else right now."Bobby's eyes darted between Travis and Laura. He slumped before nodding slowly. "I'll… I'll be back later. If Ma asks, I didn't say nothin'," he muttered; the words almost a plea for understanding. But he didn't wait for an answer.He turned and shuffled out of the basement, his heavy boots clomping up the worn stairs. The creak of the door shutting upstairs seemed to feel like a removed reminder of their isolation. For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence stretching between them like the weight of everything that had gone wrong.As the heavy silence descended between them, Travis leaned against the cold, rough wall of the cell, the weight of everything weighing down heavier than it ever had.He'd been outsmarted by his family again.Each and every plan—each minuscule shred of hope—continued to slip through his fingers.He rubbed a hand over his face, his beard scratching against his palm as he fought off the overwhelming sense of helpless despair. The drugs had left a residual exhaustion in his muscles, and everything felt heavier, slower now. Laura sat back down on the bed, her head hanging low for a moment as she tried to process what had just happened. Her fingers twisted together, fidgeting in her lap, but a quiet resolve was etched within her eyes when she finally looked back up at him. “Travis," she whispered, the only thing that broke the strained silence. He didn't even flinch, his stare still on some point beyond the cell. "We need to do something.”He looked at her then, the desperation in his eyes, but said nothing. She swallowed, feeling the tightness of her throat but forged ahead. "I—I need to move. To get this shit out of my system." She paused, peering up into his face. "I can't just sit here, feeling drugged and useless."Travis's eyes flashed, but his shoulders sagged even further, as if the fight had been squeezed out of him. "There's no point," he muttered, his voice hoarse with defeat. "Everything I've tried—none of it matters. They know. They're always a step ahead.”Slowly, Laura got to her feet, the remnants of the drugs still heavy in her limbs, but her jaw was set. "No, I'm not giving up," she said decisively, taking a step closer to him. "You haven't failed me; you're the reason I'm still here, still alive." Her voice cracked, but she powered through it. "I don't care how many times they try to knock us down; we get back up. I need you to help me with that.”Travis fisted his hands as if the guilt gnawing within his gut was eating away at him from the inside out. He could not get the image out of his head—her, curled up on that bed, drugged, helpless. And to think he was supposed to be keeping her safe."I can't," he whispered, the words torn from him. "I'm supposed to be the one keeping you safe—and I can't even do that.".Laura hunched a little closer, her hand reaching out hesitated then layed softly on his arm. "You are keeping me safe. But we can't just wait for them to screw us over again. Please, help me train. Let's burn this fucking poison out of our system."The silence in the room for a moment was complete, save the the far-off echoes of movement upstairs, and the shared heavy breathing. Travis finally lifted his head, looking at her, and saw that same spark in her eyes that had managed to keep her alive all this time. She was not backing down. Not even after everything.He let out a heavy sigh; the guilt still clung to him. Then he nodded. "Alright," he said softly. "We train. We keep moving."Laura nodded, the briefest flicker of relief crossing her face. She stepped back, wiping the remaining remnants of weariness from her eyes, readying herself. And Travis, for that moment, just watched her—marveling that she could still have that spark, that she was still fighting after everything that had happened. But if she could still keep going, he had no right to quit.The weight of failure pressed heavily upon Travis's chest, gnawing at his confidence like an unconquerable force.Every plan he made seemed to crumble, every attempt to protect Laura slipping through his fingers.He couldn't keep her safe, not from his family and not from this living nightmare they were in.A really bitter truth that ate at him was that he had never been able to protect her, not the way she needed. But even as doubt clawed at him, even as he felt himself sinking under the weight of it all, he let Laura's determination pull him back. She hadn't given up yet, and somehow, he couldn't let himself lose hope. Not completely. Not yet.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
All the fragile tranquility they'd regained after days of routine shattered that afternoon.Laura shook Travis awake; her face was twisted up, pale in the dim light, tearless but raw, haunted eyes that tore through him. Her jaw was clenched tight, yet her hands shook heavily, belying her attempts to hide the fear.Travis bolted upright, hands latching onto her shoulders, with his heart racing fast. "What's wrong?" his voice gruff with dread. Worst-case scenarios of Bobby’s betrayal, punishment, and something he couldn't fix spined out of control in his mind.Laura's voice was low, almost in whisper, the words landing hard. "I got my period again."For a moment, an oppressive silence fell over the cell, weighing down upon them like some physical weight. Travis's heart fell. "Shit." The word barely escaped him. They both knew what this meant: Constance would know they hadn't… ‘followed through’. That he'd failed to comply with the one twisted demand she'd placed on them.Laura drew in a shaky breath, her eyes dark with the weight of it. "She'll know. She'll know I'm not—" She broke off, her voice thick with frustration, her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. "She's going to know."Travis's hands had slid up to cradle her face, his own terror barely concealed. "Hey… don't," he whispered, fighting to keep his voice steady even as his heart hammered in his chest. "We'll think of something."But reassurance sounded hollow. He knew it, she knew it; they were running out of options. A black, sour laugh escaped Laura's lips as she shook her head. "We're screwed. You know it. She's going to make sure of it."Her words hung heavy in the silence, and for a moment, Laura just sat there, staring at the cold floor of the cell. She didn't say a word; she was fully enclosed in herself, but Travis could see how her fingers quivered, her posture rigid, as if setting herself ready for a blow. It tore at him to see her like this, her usual defiance dulled by exhaustion, her spirit battered by the grim reality closing in on them.With every passing moment, they felt that the time passed was already borrowed, and all that remained was to wait for what would happen with them. Laura sat still on the bed, silent, detached—somber, a shadow of her usual tempestuous self. She barely stirred for fear that any noise or sudden movement might attract attention.Travis busied himself, his every action driven by sheer desperation. He fashioned makeshift pads from old clothes and sheets. His fingers shook as he tore the fabric. The makeshift clothes felt like a pitiful offering, yet it was the best he could give. With each one he handed her, he swallowed hard, damning how helpless he felt in the face of her ordeal. She wanted to tell him to stop. Tell him she didn’t need as many, that she could just wash them. But she knew deep inside that this was just Travis’ way to cope with the situation, trying to help her in the only way his tied hands could. And she appreciated it, she really did, even if it was just in small pieces of cloth that she had no use for. "Here," he whispered, his tone tight as he passed another one. He didn't look at her—couldn't—but he forced a small, shaky smile. "You okay?"Laura nodded, clutching the cloth to her chest. Travis made it for her. "I'm fine," she murmured, though they knew that was a lie. Honesty just didn't have any place here. They just couldn't afford the truth right now.Travis watched her with his eyes riveted to every movement she made. Every wince, every adjustment for comfort, sent an ache of helpless misery through his heart. He sat against the bars near the bed, watching. His ears strained for heavy footsteps or the inevitable slam of the trap door. So far, Constance hadn't come downstairs—but it was only a matter of time. And when she did, they would have no more choices at all.No sooner had Bobby steps reached the bottom of the stairs, balancing the trays of food, than Travis sprang from his seat. A sigh of relief whispered from his lips when he recognized his brother as he moved with deliberation across the cell, his chest taut with anxiety, and he closed the door separating the cells, the lock clanging shut with metallic finality. He looked at Laura on the bed in the other cage, her eyes sunken from lack of rest, and something far worse—dread.Bobby frowned when they saw their stiffness, his eyes flicking from one to the other. "What—?"The heavy clump of other footsteps down the stairs cut off any further words from Bobby. Constance materialized, a manic kind of glee twisting her features in a way that got into Travis's nerves. Jedediah was hot on her heels, the shotgun clutched in his fist casting a shadow that seemed to loom over them like death itself. Travis's heart started pounding violently. He thought it was just Bobby bringing some food like always, so they locked each other away as the routine procedures dictated. What he didn't expect was the rest of his family following Bobby down to the cellar. Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
"Ma?" he croaked. His voice caught in his throat. "What are you doing here?”Constance's head lolled lazily toward Laura, with whom she narrowed her eyes in sickening satisfaction. "You think I don't know how the bloody calendar works?" Her voice was dripping with venom, and Travis's blood ran cold.Laura blanched, horror seeping into her expression. She looked at Travis with wide frantic eyes."Ma, wait—" Travis's voice pitched up, panic spiking through his chest like knives. "Please, just—”"Let the food by the corner, Bobby," Constance said, not even looking at him while she pointed to the floor with a shake of her hand. Then stepped closer to the bars, ignoring him altogether. "Open the door," she ordered Jedediah, her eyes never leaving Laura's pale, terrified face. "Let's see if the girl remembers why she's here.""Mom!" Travis burst out. He couldn't stand this. "Stop it! Don’t you dare open that door!"But Jedediah stepped forward, his face a hard grim mask, and hauled the lever. The front door of Laura's cell slid open with a low ominous creak."Grab her," Constance said in a cold command.Bobby’s face twisted with confusion and fear, but he stepped closer into the cell until he reached Laura. He grasped her shoulder, feeling her shaking beneath his big hand. They exchanged a mute, uncertain look. "Bobby—" Travis began, in a despairing tone."Shut up, Travis!" Constance spat back at him. Her face twisted in rage as she stormed into the cell, eyes flashing as they landed on the makeshift pads he'd made and the stain in her clothes. Her lip curled in disgust, and she turned on him, her voice a furious, shrieking hiss. "You useless , pathetic boy! You haven't even fucking tried, have you? Instead, you're—what, making her feel all cozy? Helping her clean up? Like a fucking spineless dog!""Mom, it's enough, this has to stop!"Constance volted towards the door of the cell that separated them, her face contorted in a madness grin. "I have only asked you for one thing!" she howled, spit falling from her lips under her rage. "I'm getting my family back even if that's the last thing this bitch ever does!" She turned back to Bobby. "Put her in bed!" she ordered sharply.Bobby looked back at her, his expression torn, but he did as he was told. "No! " Laura screamed, lashing out with a wild desperate strength. "Bobby, let her go!" Travis roared, his voice breaking. He slammed against the bars again, "Don't you fucking dare! Don't— Bobby! I swear to God—"She kicked at Bobby, swinging her arms, nails raking across his forearm, but he caught her around the waist, lifting her like a rag doll. She fought, twisting and thrashing, impotent."Stop it, Bobby!" Laura cried, her voice breaking as she clawed at his hands, legs kicking out wildly. "Get off me! Don't fucking touch me!"Bobby threw her onto the bed, a look of sadness etched on his face, holding her against the mattress as the sweat poured off his temples. Travis was a mess of broken cries and frantic pleas. His voice was hoarse, desperate as he watched Bobby pin Laura to the bed. "Please, Mom, please! Don't do this—""Shut up!" she screamed, then pointed at Bobby, eyes ablaze. "What are you waiting for? Fuck her!” The words struck Travis like a punch to the gut. He folded over, gasping, his mind reeling. "No," Travis breathed, barely louder than a whisper. "No, no, no, no, don't— Bobby, please— Fucking —Please, brother!"Laura's breath hitched and her eyes went wide in pure, unfiltered terror as she looked at Bobby, shaking her head frantically in denial. "Bobby, don't—Don’t you fucking dare!”“Bobby!" Travis begged, leaning his forehead against the bars, voice cracked with desperation. "Don't do this, Bobby. Please, I'll do anything, I swear! Just— stop this. Please. I will do it! Ma, I’ll do it!”Constance sneered, her lips curling in as she stepped closer, her eyes gleaming in some sort of twisted resolve. "Do it, Bobby!" she yelled; the voice resounded off cold walls. "If your brother is too much of a coward, then you will! I want my goddamn grandkids back!"Bobby's huge hands were clenched around Laura, and she shook, gasping for air as her body twisted in terror. It ripped Travis apart. He was watching his heart break in slow motion, the crack splitting deeper into his core with every passing moment."Bobby, please," he choked, barely heard above a whisper. "Please don't hurt her. She—she doesn't deserve this. She's not the enemy. She's—”"She's Travis's girlfriend!" Bobby suddenly exclaimed, looking up at Constance in puzzlement and panic. His face contorted in anguished turmoil; his grasp on Laura relaxed. "I… I cannot hurt her. She is family— I like her!"Constance's eyes narrowed to thin slits, and her voice dropped to a deadly hiss. "Family?" she stepped so close to Bobby that her glare seared into him. "She's no family of ours. She's a murderer. A killer. A worthless, filthy bitch.”Bobby flinched, as if struck, yet still keeping Laura close, his huge form quaking. Laura’s breathing, raw and terrified, filled the cell, each one piercing Travis like a blade. He was helpless, every fiber of him screaming to protect her, yet bound by the walls, by the damned bars between them.“But—but she is Travis’ family, too," Bobby stammered, his voice getting stronger when he repeated the words louder this time, as if to reassure himself of their validity.Constance's face twisted in anger, her scream tearing through the room like a knife with jagged edges. She whipped around on her heel, charging out into the night once more. The door slammed shut behind her with a violent echo. Travis tumbled backwards, the hum of the power circuit returning sickeningly as the cells crackled to life with electricity once again.She strode furiously across to Jedediah, wrenching the shotgun from his grasp. Turning, her eyes ablaze with insane fury, she marched back toward the cell, her knuckles white upon the weapon."Fine," she spat, her voice icily cold and deadly. "If nobody in this family is going to make use of that whore, then we don't need her at all.""Ma!" Bobby exclaimed, a sudden look of horror crossing his face.“NO!" Travis screamed, the sound ripping from his throat like a wounded animal caught in a trap. His eyes locked with Laura's as panic flooded his chest, wild and raw. In an instant, and without thinking—without caring—he hurled himself at the electrified bars, shoulder barging the door with all his strenght, desperation overriding all reason. He just needed to get this door open.
He just needed to get to her.
It hit him like a freight train: a violent surge of electricity tearing through his body, every muscle seizing, locking him in place as white-hot pain exploded through his veins. His gasp twisted into a strangled cry, his lips curling in agony as his body convulsed out of control. His vision blurred, his eyes rolling back into his head until finally the voltage overpowered him. He slumped as if he were a puppet whose strings had been cut, landing in a lifeless heap on the floor.For a moment,the room stood still, paralyzed in a shocking silence. The only sound was the light hum of the electrified bars, as if the air itself was holding its breath."TRAVIS!" Laura's scream shattered the silence like a broken mirror, sharp and cutting. She kicked furiously at Bobby's chest to make him release her, scrambling out of the bed and running to the locked cell door. Her heart pounded in her ears; it felt with every step that she was running through quicksand, dragging herself toward a nightmare now too real. She finally reached the door and her voice cracked with the sheer force of desperation.And then, before her hands could come into contact with the cold electrified metal, for reasons she couldn't explain in that second, the door clicked open, breaking the circuit.Jedediah's hand was on the lever outside, his face grim, but nobody hardly noticed it. Laura fell to her knees beside Travis, her hands shaking violently, hovering over his body. "Travis!" She gasped, her voice raw, fingers quaking against his pale, still face. His skin was hot—too hot—, the pulse in his neck faint, but there—it was there. Her breath hitched, and her eyes started to sting, flooding with unshattered tears."Please—please, Travis, wake up," she breathed, her voice rough and hoarse. Her fingers clawed at his chest. "Wake up, damn it! Please! I need you—no, no, no, no, please—don't! Don't you fucking dare!"For one terrified heartbeat, there was nothing.Then, with a violent gasp, Travis jerked awake, his chest heaving as he gulped in air. With a jolt, he sat up, his body shaking from the aftershock, his gaze wild and unfocused. He pulled Laura into a bone-crushing hug, the circle of his arms locked tight, almost like she was his lifeline. He pressed his face into her shoulder, hard, breathing heavily while his hold turned desperate, as if he was afraid she was going to slip away.He kicked the door shut with his foot in a swift movement, separating them from his family, and dragged them both deeper into the cell, his body shielding her. "Travis." Laura sobbed into his chest, her fingers clutching his hoodie to hold on to him. Relief washed over her in waves, overwhelming and dizzying, but her heart still pounded with terror.His breathing was ragged; his eyes never left his family, frozen behind the metal bars of their cage. His gaze was wild—feral, a cornered animal ready to strike.Constance's face twisted between fury and disbelief, her hands shaking as Jedediah stepped forward, silently pulling the shotgun from her grip. Her lips moved soundlessly, her fury muted by the shock of what had just happened until realization hit her.“Jed, what the hell are you doing?" Constance demanded in a high-pitched, strained voice."If you don't let him keep her," Jedediah said slowly, making each word weigh heavy in their meanings. "We will lose Travis too."He nodded toward the couple, huddled together on the floor, trembling and clutching at each other with desperation and fear.Laura wept against his shoulder, violent tremors racking her frame, but for now, he lived and so did she. And that was all that mattered. Travis's grip on Laura turned tighter. His heart pounded against hers, but all his focus turned to Jedediah now as his stare blazed with a mixture of anger and fear. He no longer trusted them.Constance's lips parted, but no words came forth. Her eyes darted to and from them, her chest heaving with unspent rage."But—" she began."I got this," Jedediah then took a few steps closer, his presence in the small, cramped room oppressive. He looked down at Travis, and for the very first time, there was a chilling calm in his voice, like a predator giving a final warning.“Look, son, we all have a purpose in life. Your mom gave you one, and she ain't gonna let you keep the girl unless you do your part. Am I understood?”Travis stared up at his father, his face pale, his eyes wide in some mixture of unbelieving and dread. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths, hands shaking where he held Laura close against himself."So you know this is game over. If I have to come back down here with my broken bones, I'm walking out with a corpse." Jedidiah's voice was flat, implacable.Travis continued to stare at him, his mouth open in a snarl, showing his teeth like a wild animal. His whole world seemed to crumble around him as it finally sank in—the gravity of what had happened and was happening. This was it—if he didn't play along, Laura wasn't going to survive."Now, show me you understood the assessment, son." Jed's voice was slow but firm, a demand that held no room for disobedience. He leaned his head a little to one side, regarding Travis with unsettling patience.Travis screwed his eyes shut, his breath coming in sharp, cutting edges, like trying to breathe, yet his throat was covered in wire. Painfully sharp wire. Laura turned to him, confusion etched across her face. "Travis, what—?"Before she could get the words out, Travis's hand shot out, clamping on the back of her head in a vice-like grip that sent her gasping in shock. His fingers dug deep into her scalp, pushing her down, face-first, against the cold, unyielding stone of the cell floor."Travis!" she screamed, pushing against him, but his grip was like iron. Laura struggled to press against the floor, but he was quick enough to clasp her hand and pin it on her back with his body. He pinned her, his body shaking violently. The realization hit her head on and her whole body shook with ultimate despair. “No, no, wait!—Don’t do this! Please! Please!”He didn't say a word, didn't meet her gaze. Every muscle in his body was stretched tight, his breathing in ragged pants as he forced her down, holding her in place with one arm while his other hand fumbled to lower his sweatpants."No! " Laura sobbed, voice breaking, hysteria clawing up her throat. "Not like this! Please, Travis! Not you— not like this!”Her voice echoed off the cell, a raw, desperate cry. She was thrashing against him, nails scratching down into the rough stone as she tried to push up. But Travis kept her pinned, his grip unyielding.“Shut up," he growled, his voice hoarse, trembling, more for himself than for her. He shut his eyes tighter as he lowered her pants. The cold air hit her exposed skin, and Laura screamed, shaking violently.She tried again to stand up, but Travis' hand came back against her scalp and pressed her face down in the concrete with more strength. Laura could feel her skin opening from the cracks in the floor, scratches giving way to minute droplets of blood. She couldn't breathe. She felt her lungs working, burning, but no air was coming in. She felt the terror, the inhuman realization that she had already lost.She could hear the rustle of fabric as he adjusted himself, and Laura squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for it—the sudden tearing pain, the feeling of being violated beyond repair. The feeling of her only last friend ultimately destroying her full existence. Her whole body tensed in anticipation; her cries turned into choked, pleading sobs.Travis's body moved forward against her. But nothing happened.Travis's body shifted again, his hips pressing into her, but there was no pain. No intrusion.Laura's breath caught. Her tears frozen on her eyes, confusion bursting through the haze of panic. She could feel his skin against hers, his softness against her. She looked sideways, glanced up at him through the corner of her eye, and saw the desperate, pleading look in those deep, dark sorrow eyes of his. He gave a small, barely perceptible nod.Then it hit her, like the wave —He wasn't… he wasn't really doing it."Oh God—" she breathed; the relief that flooded her was so powerful, so fast, it left her dizzy. The sobs now came harder, but they were finally tears of gratitude, overwhelming soul-crushing relief.Travis's motions continued, but it was all a farce. His body shook with each false thrust, his face contorted in anguish. Laura's sobs started again, more insistent, more desperate. She screamed, her wails reverberating off the cell walls as if she were being torn apart, hoping it would be enough to fool whatever ears listened from the other side.She pleaded and begged, her voice cracking with emotion, and with every sound that escaped her lips, Travis's heart broke a little more. He moved into her, over and over, his own sobs hidden behind the thick tangled hair masking his face. He was choking on them, his body quaking like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane.They heard his footsteps slowly retreat up the stairs. The silence seemed to drag on and, after what felt like an eternity, Travis finally stopped. He pulled back, releasing her as if she were on fire. Putting his own clothes back in place with a quick move.Laura sat up, hauling her pants back up with shaking hands as her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her right cheek ached from coming into contact with the floor; she wiped it with her sleeve, soothing the ache in that area and removing the dirt. She paid no attention at all to the little spots of blood coloring the fabric and turned to look at Travis.He had stumbled backward, his face pale and twisted with some sort of anguish she had never seen before. He got to his feet and staggered towards the corner of the cell, where he fell on his knees. A guttural retching sound escaped him, and then he was vomiting all over the floor, heaving violently, his entire body shaking with the force of his nausea.Laura watched him, still tears streaming down her face, her body shaking uncontrollably. She crawled closer, reaching out tentatively. "Travis…"He whipped his head around, eyes wide and wild. "Shut up!" he shouted, voice raw and broken. "Don't—just don't say fucking anything —""I just— I wanted to thank—""Don't — Don't thank me for this— Do not thank me for not— I'm not a fucking rapist!" His breath hitched, and he pressed a shaking hand against his chest, struggling to breathe. "I'm not—I wouldn't— I can't — All you had to do was go ot the fucking motel—why? Why the fuck you— why?! Fuck!""Travis," Laura whispered, her voice soft, shaking. She wanted to go to him, to reach out and hold him, to apologize for a million things, but she stayed where she was, giving him space. "You… you saved me."“Saved you?" he spat, a bitter laugh breaking through his sobs. "I can't… I can't save you—" He trailed off, shaking his head violently. "Can't— just — just leave me the fuck alone.”He doubled over, his hands clasped to his head, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Laura stood and stepped back, her own legs threatening to give out beneath her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hit something—anything—to release the terror and anger and pain swirling inside her. But instead, she just nodded numbly and gave him his solitude, as requested.He stayed where he was, curled in on himself, shaking like a wounded animal.Laura turned away, moving sluggishly to the bed. She sat down, her gaze fixed blankly on the wall while her heart was still racing painfully in her chest. She felt hollow, like a part of her had been ripped out and left far behind.They both remained this way, each locked in their own corners of their cages, too shaken to move, too broken to speak.Laura kept herself away from Travis, both of them sat in different cells as if some magic line was drawn in between them. The trays of cold and unappealing food had been left untouched outside the cell bars; yet neither one of them was in the mood to even think about it. The smell of sweat, burned skin, and vomit reeked beneath the dark and dim red light overpowering any other smell coming from the trays. Hours bled into a blur of pain and silence, until she had no idea if it was hours that had passed or days since Constance and Jedediah had left them.Travis hadn't spoken one word. He sat hunched in the corner of his cell staring blankly at the wall, like a man gutted of everything that made him human. He looked like a ghost.It was then, all at once, that the reality of it all struck Laura like a train. Then shock gave over to anger, despair, and a desperate, irrational need for a way—any way—out of this nightmare. She sat up, her motions weak, and crossed over to Travis's seated figure. Dropping onto the floor in front of him, she swallowed hard; wide, imploring eyes looking up into his."Wouldn't it be better if we just…" Her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath in the attempt to settle herself. "If we just… did what they wanted?”Travis's eyes finally rose to hers. Bloodshot, hallowed orbs stared at her with something in their depths dark and heavy that made her look away. He said nothing. He didn't move. He stared at her as if he didn’t recognize the person sitting in front of him."Travis, I'm tired," she whispered, her voice shaking as tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm tired and scared, and I want to go home. I don't want to die here, in this fuckin' cage. I—I can't take it anymore." She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking uncontrollably. "What if—what if we just give them what they want? Maybe—maybe if we give them a kid, they'll let me go."Travis blinked once, his eyes slowly shutting and opening again, and in that moment a flicker of something like pain—or was it self load?—crossed his features. His eyes held hers in that twisted mix of pity and something that felt a lot like loathing, the weight of his gaze almost unbearable"Don't," he whispered—throat hoarse, voice low, carrying a thread of warning. "Don't say that.""Why?" Laura demanded, her voice rising with desperation. "Because it's such a bad idea? Because you haven't thought about it too?!" She wiped angrily at her tears, quick gasps causing her breathing to be erratic. "They want me to have a baby, right? If I give them what they want, maybe they'll finally leave us alone. Maybe I can finally get out of here."Travis shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "You think it's that easy?" His voice was sharp now, cutting across the small space between them. "You think if you just have a kid, they'll let you walk out of here on some pinky promise that you won't go to the cops?”"Why not?" Laura snapped, a sob escaping her. "You're not the one who's going to die if they don't get what they want! I will! So maybe you're the selfish one here!"His face contorted, something breaking behind his eyes. He was on her in an instant, his fingers closing around her shoulders, shaking her hard enough that her head spun. "You think I haven't thought about that? You think I don't know it's you who's in danger? But you're not thinking clearly, you're wrong, Laura—oh so fucking wrong. Because they won't let you go.”Laura was frozen, her breath caught in her throat staring into his wild desperate eyes. "W—What…?""If you have a baby, you think that woman is gonna be satisfied?" Travis's voice shook, his grip tight and unyielding. "That what? She is just going to open the door for you and kiss you goodbye? No, kid. She'll want another. And maybe another. And the second you can't give her what she wants anymore, the second we can't give her what she wants anymore, you'll be useless to her. Because she is not in her fucking right mind! And when, not if, when! her perfect family fantasy falls apart, when she finally gets her shit together and she fucking snaps back into reality, you are dead."She was silent for a moment to process what he had said, but then he doubled down in case there might have been some doubt in her mind.
"There's no chance you're leaving this house alive."
His voice was very much a defeated whisper, low and with no hint of hope in it. He was not even able to lift his head toward her. "No matter if we comply or not. I didn't save you. I just extended your death sentence for another fucking month." He turned away from her, his hands shaking. He felt goddamned helpless; they were defeated without a seed of doubt. There was nothing he could do to help or protect her, nothing he could offer to somehow ease her pain. Each breath he took felt like a reminder of his defeat, his helplessness, his inability to protect her from the horror of their circumstance. She would never leave this place.
Not alive.
He slowly pulled away, retreating back to his corner, putting as much distance as he could between them. He didn't want her near him— he didn’t deserve to have her near him. He just wanted to be alone, to stew in his own shame and self loathing. He'd failed her in every way he possibly could, and there was nothing left for him to say or do.He did not utter another word. He stared blankly at the wall, lost to his own despair, wishing for the silence to swallow him whole.Laura, still shaking, watched him across the room. She could feel the last threads of her resolve fray; the numbness creeping in, some cold reality settling into her bones. She was beyond crying, though the pain inside her tore at her. She'd held onto hope for so long, even through the nightmare, that now it slipped away as she sat there, hardly able to breathe.Her eyes strayed to the ground, her stare vacuous. There was nothing left for which to fight, nothing left to say.The weight of his words kicked her in the gut. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed, staring blankly at the nothingness. Everything—the hope, the tiny sliver of a chance she'd held onto—shattered around her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Travis couldn't recall falling asleep. He most certainly must have passed out on his corner, still crawling on himself like a wounded animal. But he knew he was sleeping because that night he dreamed about killing Laura Kearney.It was not the first time he had dreamed about Laura. These dreams crept in, painfully vivid as reality itself, luring him into a world where he could rewrite the past. In the most familiar of these dreams, he found himself on that first night they met, wordlessly taking her and Max to the Harbinger Motel, just like he should have. He had walked them in, given them a key, stayed long enough to know they were settled, maybe even waited in the lot until he knew they'd fallen asleep. He would have paid out of his damn fucking pocket if needed. In the dream he'd wake to a morning where they were safe, far from here, where Laura had never become trapped in Hackett's twisted world. Where Laura didn’t even get the chance to know his name.Other dreams tormented him in other ways. He'd imagined himself catching her that final time she tried to get away at the station, preventing her from jamming the needle in his skin—the sedative. So fucking stupid of his part. He should have known better. This time, she was only locked up with Max for one more full moon. Then, come morning after, they were all there, unscathed. He was almost there, and could almost see himself explaining it all, the two of them turning to him with something near trust in their eyes. They'd scheme together, go out and eliminate Silas, and he'd set them loose—back into their life, never touched by this nightmare. Never looking back. But this time his nightmare didn’t walk through realities where he saved them all. No, this time his nightmares, his failures, were inked in red. It begins the same every time: he was back inside that upstairs room where Laura transformed—with its smashed mirror and the floors and walls slick with blood. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the stench of iron clinging to his skin. It was as it had been; a jagged shard of mirror in his hand, red stains on their clothes. On the floor before him was Laura, her chest heaving wildly, her eyes wide with terror. Blood streaked her face, merging with the beads of sweat, her blond hair matted to her skin. Her lips moved, but no words came out.It's building inside him, that desperate, hungry need to make it stop. The relentless pressure to end it all. Her fear, her pain, their shared suffering—it could all be over with one swift motion. He told himself it would be a mercy. A gift. If he killed her now would spare her the horrors of the cellar: being incarcerated, coming undone as the time stretches endlessly in that cell. She wouldn't have to go through what they're going through now.That's what he kept telling himself as he lunged forward. The shard of mirror flashed in the dim light, catching the blood-red gleam of the room. Laura's eyes widened further, a scream ripping from her throat, but he couldn't hear it over the pounding of his heart, the roar in his ears. His arm swinged down, the jagged edge aiming for her chest—But that wasn't how it happened.It never happens like that.The dream twists once more, his mind contorting what was real into something unrecognizable. Now, there wasn’t any color in the room upstairs—no light or shade that existed in reality. It was all shrouded in red—the same as the basement they were trapped in. Red walls, red floors, and red air—soaked in blood. The sight of crimson coursed through his brain, tainting it. Now he held the shotgun, the one he had never used when he had a chance. In front of him again was Laura, kneeling, her red eyes staring up at him, pleading, questioning. He should have pulled the trigger.He tells himself that, over and over. He should've shot her, should've ended her misery before it'd ever begun. It would've been kinder. He should have saved her from all of this. But her eyes…Her eyes were wrong.They were red now, smoldering embers in the hellish light, peering through the crimson fog that surrounded them. It's not right. Laura's eyes were never red. He knew that. He remembered them.
Her eyes were blue.
Blue as the summer skies over Hackett's Quarry, when the air was crisp and was free of the weight of their sins suffocating them. Blue as the lake he swam in as a boy, its cool waters lapping at the shore. Blue as the faded denim jacket he had worn on early morning patrols when life was less complicated. Blue as the fine porcelain dishes his grandmother treasured, which were always immaculate and untouched, like a world that seemed to belong to somebody else, somewhere far away from blood and violence. Her eyes were blue, like everything good in his life.
Not red.
Not red like the walls that closed in on them. Not red like the blood that soaked their hands, that soaked the earth beneath their feet. Not red like this nightmare.As the scene shifted again, dragging Travis deeper within the grasp of the dream, the weight of guilt settled heavier upon him. He wasn't no longer upstairs in the room of the Hacketts’ house, but in the police station, out of the cell, the freezing concrete beneath his feet. He was on his knees, blood staining the uniform, shotgun discarded beside him. Laura stood over him now inside the cage, silent, her blue eyes shining with a heavenly radiance. She wasn't angry, nor accusing; just there—obtrusive and divine. The light around her head from the tall window behind her radiated like a crown, casting her as something beyond human, like some goddess standing in judgment over him. He would like to speak—to tell her how sorry he was, how he had failed—but the words choked him. Yet, his confession spilled out anyway, dripping like venom from his lips: all the secrets he had kept, the sins of his family—everything that has led them here. His voice cracked, his throat burned, but she listened—always listening, never interrupting, as if some all-knowing deity that had judged him long before he opened his mouth.In this warped vision, he reveres her, sliding ever deeper into his own delusion. Laura was no longer simply Laura. She was more—something beyond the pain and the suffering. He was no longer Travis. He wasn’t a man, not a Sheriff, not even a brother or son. He was a worshiper at her altar, offering up his confession in exchange for an absolution that will never come.But Laura wasn’t real. Not this Laura. She didn't forgive, didn't absolve him. She didn't speak at all. His heart pounded as the dream shifted once more, warping his memories into something darker.He saw her standing outside his cell now. His cell. She's the one who's free, not him. She's watching him from the other side of the electrified bars, her red eyes gleaming like stars in the blood-red haze. She was his jailor now, not Constance, not Jedediah. Laura held the key to his freedom, and yet he knew she'll never use it. This was how it was supposed to be. He belonged there. Caged. Alone. Forever trapped by his guilt, by his choices. And in some twisted way, it seemed like the right ending.
The only ending.
But Travis knew better, all of this was part of the nightmare, some crazy endless loop of what-ifs and could-haves distorted by guilt and fear. His subconscious gave him no quarter, just gnawing at every distorted image, every blood-soaked scene.Because his dreams were always red. The color of guilt. The color of failure. The color of death.He went under again, this time deeper.He was back in the upstairs room, the one with the broken mirror, the blood smeared on their skin. The shard of glass was back in his hand; the urge to strike now stronger. That would be so easy, he said to himself, so easy to end it all. He could have killed her and saved her from the hell they were living in. He could be the hero, the martyr, the one who took all the weight of her sins upon his shoulders so that she would not have to bear them herself. But every time he lunged, every time he tried to end it, the dream resets. Every time, he fails.Until suddenly he did not. He jerked awake, gasping for air. It was the red glow of the basement greeting him, his chest tightened by the weight of guilt. Laura was there—just a shadow, lying on the small bed in the opposite cell. He was still trapped, still in the nightmare, but now awakened to be surrounded by the same blood-colored hue.He blinked hard, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a second skin. His breathing slackened, but that feeling of dread still lingered on. She was still here—not some ethereal goddess from his dreams, but Laura alive and real, with a book, headphones clamped in her ears. The flickering softness of the torchlight shrouded her gently in shadows, and for one instant, he could allow himself to feel that maybe everything would be alright.
But it wouldn’t.
For this time, when he woke up, the compulsion to kill her hadn't vanished.He'd made a choice. His heart bled with it.He needed to set her free from this, but he only could do it from this side of the cell.She had less than a month of life, which in his mind was more merciful than making her stay locked for months, if not years, being sexually and mentally abused by him and his family. Having kids that were going to be physically and mentally abused for a couple of old foster parents that had gone mad with grief. He couldn’t let that happen. He could no longer let his family trap her and break her. Not anymore. But that meant she would die sooner or later. He could envision it in his head now; his mother losing completely her mind to her madness when Laura's clothes came back next month with bloodstains. His father's promise a constant reminder that this peace he had now had a due date and couldn't be delayed. He sees her beautiful face torn into a terrified mute scream. He hears her terrified screams of his name, begging for him, crying for his help, just to be silenced for the bang of the shotgun that will mute her forever.Travis couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand her pain, the raw fear in her eyes. It was like watching a candle struggle to stay lit in a storm, that once-bright flame fluttering under the weight of all she'd endured. He couldn’t stand for her pain, for her fear, her survival instinct kicking her into submission for a fate that she didn't deserve.He closed his eyes in despair, rubbing with his hands his now long hair. He had to. But how?Choking her?Smothering her with fabric?Breaking her neck?Stabbing her? He had never killed anybody, he knew the physics behind it, the theory, but not the practice. What he was certain in this equation was that in all of them Laura would be aware of. She would be awake. In all of those situations she would look at him with fear and heartbreak for the broken trust. Her only human contact for months, her friend—if he dared say so—had become her executioner. A mercy which would not stand as mercy at all in her eyes, she would die horrified, alone, betrayed and in fear by the hands that once fed her when she was wounded, caressed her cheeks, and held her when she cried. He let a sob loose. He couldn't do it when she was awake; he couldn't. He had to be selfish enough, needed to set her free while she was dreaming—dreaming about being under the sun so she could stay there forever. He had to ask Bobby for help. To help her sleep, to make it so she wouldn't wake up again. So she wouldn’t be aware of his betrayal.“Travis—” he looked up when he felt a hand on his cheek. Laura was right there kneeling in front of him, having left her books and music in bed when she heard him cry from the other cell. Her beautiful red eyes looked at him with worry and in distraught. But her eyes weren't red.Her eyes were fucking blue.He cursed at the light, the light that would never let him see her real eyes again. He closed his, not wanting to steer at her. Travis didn't deserve to look at her. He felt her wash his tears with her thumb, telling him sweet nothings while he thought of ways of freeing her in her sleep. He was defeated. Broken. He had failed.She wrapped her arms around him, hauling him near, holding him so tightly that it was like a vice. He fell apart into her arms, his sobs muffled against her shoulder as he shook uncontrollably.He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill another human being.
He couldn't kill Laura Kearney.
But he had to. Because this was the only way she'll escape. He had to protect her from the years of torture she would face in that cell, from the horrid things his family wanted from her. For what he was being obligated to do to keep her alive. But she wouldn't suffer anymore. She would never have to bear the indignity of his unwanted touch for months—or even years. He kept telling himself. She won't have to bear the pain of having her children taken away from her, or the cruelty of the red light taking away the life that she deserved.And he will not have to live with the screams of his name from her lips when he refused to rape her, and his father pointed the shotgun at her. She'll be free. Somehow, she'll be free. He imagined her body going limp in his arms, and his mind couldn't move beyond what would happen afterward. Would he cry? Would he just stare at her, unable or willing to comprehend the reality of what he had just done? Would he scream her name until his voice shattered and his throat bled from the effort? He couldn't think about it too long. It was too terrifying, too final. And him? Would he do the same to himself? No, that's too selfish. There was a job to be done. He had a purpose to fulfill.It'll be Bobby who finds him, he thought. Laura would be dead, her body still and lifeless lying down in the bed—the last thing he could give her in this godforsaken place. And when she's gone, he'll finally be free.He'll go back upstairs like a ghost, wrap his arms around his mother as she blubbers on his shoulder. He'll let his father grunt and slap his back like they're the same people they were before. He'll shower, shave, put clean clothes on. He'll sit at the kitchen table and listen while they talk—while they brag—about what they did to the bodies, about the clothes they burned, the guns they buried. He'll let them tell him all the ways they buried his soul along with those counselors, those kids. And he'll nod. Bite his tongue raw and nod, just like he always did. But that's where it would end.Because when the plates were clear, and the last cup was drained, he will get up and he will walk out. He'll get in his car and drive straight to the nearest police station he can find. Because he will not kill his family. No, killing would be a mercy. One they've never earned. One that he won't ever give them. They bended him so hard and for so long that he finally snapped. It became unbearable. He tried to protect them so much just to be the one putting the knot around their necks. He wants them to rot in a cell like this: to spend every single day clawing at the walls, starving for a single drop of rain on their faces; praying to every god they know for the comfort of a loved one's hug, begging to hold their children again, screaming for home—until they realize they don't have a home anymore. Until they realize they're dead too.He was going to make every last Hackett pay for what they did. He'll point his finger right at them—and right at himself—and scream 'murderers'. He was going to tell the whole world what they were and pray to whatever's left that the law will tear them to pieces the way they tore those kids apart. He'll watch them suffer, watch them choke on every last lie, every excuse. Watch them break under the weight of what they've done.But for now, he will stay. He will hold her for as long as she breathes. He'll hold her until she slips away, safe and warm, while his family drowns in the blood of their own sins.And when she's gone, he'll bury her too—his last act of mercy.He'll bury them all in the truth.He was going to dig up each and every body they've ever buried, and return those children to families that never got closure. That never got to say goodbye. He'll stand in front of each grave, every shattered home, and he'll confess.Tell them what happened, how it all unraveled, how it came down to a fucking tragedy of cruelty and blood. He'll wear whatever punishment they want to throw at him. He'll take every hit, every curse, and he'll bear it like the scars he already carries.Then he'll fight to see the Kearneys."Laura's my grandma's name on my mom's side," she had said once, almost off-handedly while they sat shoulder-to-shoulder in the cell, talking about something other than escape plans or revenge or the weight of chains around their souls. Just her family. Her future. Like they were anywhere but here. It had been a break, a breath of fresh air in that poisoned pit of despair—a fragile bubble of hope.She was born to Charles and Hannah Kearney.He'll find them, go to them, stand there like a ghost who didn't belong, and if they even want to look at him—if they can bear to let a monster like him speak—he'll tell them everything. Tell them how brave their daughter was. How in a matter of minutes she had gone from stranger to bitter enemy and nearly beat him at his own game. He'd never met anyone like her—someone who could outthink and outmaneuver him without even a hint of fear in her eyes. She wasn't like him—or like anyone he knew, for that matter. How strong she stood, no matter how determined the world was on breaking her. How she fought to give them one more day, every day, in a place where hope was a rare and bleeding thing. How she made him hope, too.And he'll tell them how he tried to save her. He'll tell them how he failed.But he'll take what's left of Laura home.He will wake up every morning in another cage, in another set of shackles, another uniform, living another day in another cell—all with the weight of his failures crushing him.And every night, he'd go to her in his sleep. In that red-lit prison, where she is dancing like the floor's on fire, where she's laughing at him, pushing him, making up jokes just to hear that one rough chuckle breathe out of him. He'll see her reading to him again, the light of her smile boring through the dark of his cell. He'll find her standing beside him, telling him how she loves Twinkies and how she can catch Maltesers in her mouth, teasingly commanding him to try it too. She'll ask him to dance with her, twirling in that empty room with no other sound but her voice. But in those dreams, he's the one locked behind bars.Because even inside his mind, he'll never be free.He'd already felt like a ghost, trapped between life and death without any sure direction towards absolution. The bleak choices made his mind spiral. He didn't know what they'd do to him once this was all over, whether they would lock him away for life or mirror what he had done to his victim.Deep down, he wondered if they would have mercy on him and grant him the death he so desperately yearned for. A mercy he didn’t deserve but would ultimately welcome with open arms. He prayed, with a desperate, devouring hope, that when—or if—they decided that final option, that it would hurt. He wanted it to be so excruciatingly painful that, in those final moments as the darkness clawed its way over him, the physical agony might, just for an instant, rise above the pain of having killed Laura Kearney.Laura was kneeling in front of him now, just there—right there, yet unreachable, too, nothing more than a ghostly contour in the crimson hue that suffocated the room. Travis's brain no longer remembered her colors, not in this place. He only saw her through shades of red. For that was all that was left of them.Travis's fingers dug into her shoulders—her real shoulders— holding her like she might slip away at any second, like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to this moment. Her silhouette was dark against the dim glow of the cell, a mass of shadows and smudged lines, but even like this, even reduced to the monochrome palette of hell, she was achingly, devastatingly beautiful.“Travis." Her voice was soft, broken, and the sound of it hit him like a punch to the chest. He hardly registered the way her breath fanned across his cheek—shallow, nervous. He was holding her too hard, too desperately, and he let go as if her skin had burned him. She tilted her head, studying him with those eyes—God, those eyes—even though he couldn't make out their true color. Not here. He only knew they looked sad. Sad and worried and full of a concern, the worry, the impossible kindness he didn’t deserve. She looked at him as thought he was still human, still something worth saving, and that was eating away so thoroughly the barricades he'd thrown up around himself.It hit him all at once, a crushing weight—she was everything: the single most valuable thing he had ever known, though she had never been his to keep, never his to deserve. And he wanted to keep her safe, not just for duty, not just for redemption, but because he loved her, loved her in a way that clawed up from somewhere deep and unnamable, raw and relentless.The realization tore through him like a hurricane, unrelenting and smothering, tearing down every wall he'd put in place to protect himself. He was drowning in it, in the power of it as it crashed over him like an unforgiving wave, and a garbled, guttural sound tore out of his throat—an outburst he hadn't meant to make, unguarded, involuntary, the very nature of the confession pulling him under.
He loved her.
The truth caught in his throat, a splinter in his flesh—sharp, jagged, and insistent to be freed. Words fight with his soul as surely as cries for utterance, trapped like the screams of a prison-bound man—strangled by the weight of his crushing guilt and the suffocating panic wrapping around his chest like a vice. He was hardly breathing, let alone talking, in shallow, frantic gasps.
She knew he was already grieving for her.
That his heart was shattering under the intolerable weight of realizing the love he feels was tainted by the horrid thing he knew he must do."It's alright, I need you to breathe with me," she whispered, her tone soft, tender, but the lie was bitter, almost cruel, hanging in the air between them like some kind of toxic cloud. No. It was not alright. It will never be alright. He shook his head—hard—throwing his head to the side, every muscle stringed taut in his body, twisted so hard he felt he could snap, that he might shatter apart and never again be whole. His hands shook, his fingers twitching with the unbearable need to reach out for her—to hold her, to protect her—but he couldn't. He knew he couldn't.Because this was no longer a rescue plan. But an execution.She didn’t know, her face soft, trusting, ignorant of the horrid truth he was carrying—the unbearable burden of what he was about to do. She couldn't know it was he the one with the finger on the trigger, that he was the one who would destroy it all. The thought dug deep into his chest as if it'll cave in any second, almost too much to bear.He looked at her, standing there in the faint light, her face so achingly familiar, so full of life—and it made the ache all so much worse. He then saw that red spot on her cheek, where he held her against the floor not even two hours ago against her will. Wounding her, hurting her. Like a monster. He had seen that face in his dreams, in his nightmares, but not like this. Never with the knowledge that he was to be the one who will end it. He just couldn't let her suffer anymore, allow her to endure the horror awaiting them in this nightmare they're stuck in. At least then, he had convinced himself, it would be mercy—killing her, a saving from torment, endless pain.The more he loved her, the more unbearable it got; it twisted the knife deeper into his gut, and it made this act seem like betrayal of the deepest kind. The panic surged again, choking him, his lungs seizing as he struggled to breathe through the suffocating guilt. His hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palms as the weight pressed down upon him. He wanted to scream, wanted to run—to do anything but face the horrifying truth staring him in the face. He could feel her grabbing into him, begging him to breathe, to come back from whatever hell his brain had taken him. To come back to her. It was too late. How could you kill somebody that you love more than life? How do you pull the trigger on the only person who ever gave you a reason to keep going when everything else was falling apart?His breathing caught, and the sobs threatened to spill as he stared at her, every moment they shared flashing in front of his eyes—moments of quiet understanding, the touches, the short lived moments of trust in a world that has given them nothing but violence and pain. He wanted to say all of it to her, every thought and feeling crashing through him. He wanted to tell her how much she means to him, the extent to which he had come to rely on her presence in the dark.
But he couldn't.
Another sob choked its way up his throat and was swallowed hard, as realization gripped his heart and wringed it dry. He loved her. And that was the worst of it. Because in realizing such, he had come to a parallel realization—that he couldn’t save her, could not provide her with the life she deserves. All he could offer her now was an end—to the suffering, to the horror, to the nightmare.But it was the one thing he wishes he could never give her.Her soft voice cut through the chaos again, grounding him, though it felt like a knife twisting deeper. "Travis. Breathe. It's okay. Breathe, please…"But it was not. It was not okay. None of it was. He knew it now, and felt it deep in his bones. It was always going to end this way.For a second, he thought he heard himself speak. But it was distant, muffled. It was not real. She was the only real thing in this world, in this scarlet-tinted prison from hell.Laura's eyes softened, like she was looking through his broken pieces, seeing straight into the shattered mess of him.She raised her hands and cradled his face, her touch so achingly soft that it was almost painful. She leaned in slowly, pressing her lips to his forehead, rocking them from back to forward, trying to ground him. It detonated a heat inside him, an intense wave of sensations, bitter with wants that might make him deflate into it, shrink away from it. He wanted her, like the air for a dying man. But it was too late. Her lips brushed soft against his skin, and something inside him—something fragile and exhausted—cracked a little more. He felt the ghost of her voice echoed in his head, his name whispered like a plea, or maybe it was just his own mind unraveling. He couldn't even tell anymore. He was mourning the loss of the last part of him that was human, the last part of him that was not a Hackett.He held on to her small frame for dear life.She kissed his cheeks—first one, then the other.Every touch was a small, searing stamp, which stayed long after her lips moved along, like she was going to put him together with just bits of kisses. Then she hovered. So close. Close enough that her breath mingled with his, and all he could think was how easy it would be to close that distance. Her pulse beated rapidly against his erratic rhythm, like a mirror to his turmoil. His heart stuttered, chest tightening as she leaned in, her lips brushing his in the faintest, softest contact.
And then she kissed him.
Her lips were full and soft—a sharp contrast to his thin, broken ones—but she didn't seem to care. She kissed him again, and again, and again.And Travis broke and kissed her back.He was falling apart, and her lips were the only thing holding him together. He sobbed into the kiss, helpless against the raw, aching need that poured out of him. She kissed him again, her lips moving with slow, aching care, and he was lost, utterly lost.He wanted to tell her she's beautiful.Wanted to say he's sorry, wanted to scream, wanted to take her somewhere far away from here and show her the world beyond this red-lit hell. He wanted to feel the rain on their faces, to laugh with her under the sun, to share all the ordinary beautiful things they'll never have. He wanted to keep kissing her, never stop—but more than anything, he wanted to let her go. He wanted her to forget he ever existed.He loved her so much; it was killing him. Loved her enough to dream of opening that cell door, taking her hand, and driving her far, far away—somewhere she could catch her breath, somewhere he didn't cast shadows on her future, where he could see the sun reflected in her soft blue eyes. He'd drop her off at the nearest bus stop, watching from his car as she boarded it, never looking back. Watching until she was just a tiny, distant blur on the road.He wanted her to go to vet school, to laugh with her friends, hug her parents, and chase after her dog through the backyard. He wanted for her to reunite with Max, someone better than him—someone who didn't come with a trail of blood and regrets. To fall in love for real. To walk down an aisle with that person, to feel cherished every single day of her life. A house filled with laughter and light, children who fill every corner of the house, ringing laughter that rivals the church bells. To live such a full and happy life that if the news of his death reached her, she would wonder why his name even sounded familiar. But he couldn't say any of that, so he kissed her back. He kissed her like it was the last thing he would ever do, and maybe it was.She pulled away finally, her breathing ragged, her eyes—red, in his fractured vision—searching for his. “There you are…” She seemed relieved he had woken up from whatever nightmare his brain dragged him. Or so she thought. There was a question there, a request for something more than he could give."Come to bed with me?" The thread of her voice, a tenuous whisper, cut the silence between them like a plea for leniency. The way she looked at him, it was not seductive, it was not even hopeful; it was desperate—she was offering him something dear and unreachable. As if to lie together in that narrow bed could be their getaway, as it would unlock for them a door neither of them can see.But it won't. He knew that.She was frightened, and he could tell by the way her fingers dug over the edges of her sleeves, the knuckles bone-white. She was scared about what was coming, scared about how little time they had left. Maybe she had come to terms with dying—soon rather than later. It was not the first time she had faced death, but this time was different. She did not know he was the one who will see this through, that he sealed her fate already, locked her into an end already ordained. It was not love that she was asking for. He couldn’t even pretend it was. She was not asking for his love, not even his protection. What she wanted was comfort—the raw, human need to feel another person's warmth beside her in her last hours. She wanted him because he was all she had left in this godforsaken cell. It was not about him, really—not at all. It was proximity, desperation, and survival. It was about having a chance to actually choose in this hell. And he understood. He understood it more than she would ever know. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to lie beside her, kiss the fear that was trembling on her lips, touch her skin until the darkness faded away. He wanted to pull her close and let her feel something other than fear and sorrow. He wanted to be her solace. But he knew it was not something they would have wanted if they were free. So he couldn't. He did not deserve it. Did not deserve to be her sanctuary when he was the reason she was trapped here.The woman standing before him now, bathed in the red glow of their prison, wasn't the person he had met in the forest.Her eyes were too haunted, her expression too worn, her resolve fraying at the edges.But then, he wasn't the same either. This Travis, this hunk of a man with red-rimmed eyes and hands so stained in more ways than one, was not the man she knew. He was twisted, as if light filtering through the room no longer congealed into anything quite recognizable, and no amount of touching would piece them back together. They were both just pieces of something that used to be intact. Two broken pieces of a reflection of what they lost. And he was terrified that if he touched her now, he would shatter what was still remaining. And here he was, loving her with a desperation that burned even as it broke him, knowing he'd never deserve her.Bobby's heavy footsteps rebounded down the corridor, and for once, they were a blessing. A reprieve. He didn’t have to do it — he didn’t have to taint her beauty with his despair."After Bobby leaves," he whispered.
Liar.
Laura noded once, small, understanding, then got to her feet and headed back towards the bed. Travis watched her go, all the things he will never say weighing down on him.She greeted Bobby as he arrived inside the room.“Hey Laura, are you ok? Were you hurt? I was so worried— Did Travis—” Travis heard Bobby ask, concern showing deep within his voice. They spoke for a couple of seconds in hush voices, but he didn’t play attention. He didn’t want to hear Laura’s voice; he didn’t want to hear her lie anymore. To wear that mask of happiness that hid her deepest fear, her only protection in this cage. They cut the conversation and she moved away from the bars, lay down with her headphones, and rolled her back to the room bright red.The moment Bobby saw Travis slumped against the wall in the other cell, his shoulders sagging and his eyes blank, he knew something was wrong. The kind of posture that screamed defeat. Bobby shifted on his feet, uncertainty gluing him down. He wasn't good at talking through stuff like this. Never had been. But Travis was his brother, and something inside him couldn't let it slide.He lumbered over to grab a rickety wooden chair from the corner and sat down beside Travis outside the cell. The chair groaned under his weight. "You okay?" Bobby asked gruffly, though the answer was already plain as day. The room still smelled like burned fabric, burned skin and vomit. There wasn’t anything in that hellhole that could be described as ‘okay’. Travis didn’t say a word—just stared at him, face like stone. Bobby scratched the back of his neck. Words were just so damn hard sometimes. Travis cleared his throat. This was the last time he was going to talk with his brother, really talk to him, and he had a favor to ask him. He needed him to make Laura sleep, to drug her food again so that when he had to—she wouldn't be awake. She wouldn't die scared. Just leave the cruel reality for a more peaceful dream.“Hey… I was talkin' to ya." This time, Bobby's voice came softer.He shifted in his seat, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. Travis wasn't meeting his eyes, wasn't even acknowledging he was there. Bobby knew that look—his brother was somewhere else, lost in his own head, probably stewing over something he had no power to fix.“You hearin' me or what?" Bobby frowned."What?" Travis blinked, like he was suddenly back from wherever he'd gone. His voice was tight, hoarse."You ain't listening to me," Bobby said again and the frustration crept into his voice. "I'm tryin' to talk and you're just—”"I'm not in the mood to listen to any of your crap right now," Travis shot back, his voice low and growling. It didn't have any heat to it, though. There was just… exhaustion. Desperation. "I just need to ask you for a favor."Bobby scowled, crossing his arms over his chest like a child being scolded. "Well, too bad. You're gonna listen this time, 'cause I got somethin' to say.""Bobby—""No! Shut up!” Bobby's sudden bark of anger made Travis flinch. Bobby's eyes were wide, pleading. "Just… shut up and let me talk. You never listen to me. You always think I'm stupid, like I don't know nothin'. Well, I know stuff. I know what's goin' on even when you don't tell me. And I got things to say too, alright? So if you want that fucking favour, you're going to hear my story first." Travis exhaled, long and shuddery. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Laura. She was watching them, her brow furrowed, her eyes darting between them anxiously.He couldn't say it when she was listening, he couldn't betray her that much."Fine," he growled, voice so low as to be almost inaudible. He just needed to keep Bobby talking until Laura stopped playing attention. "What's the story?"Bobby shifted again, looking uncomfortable, like he was wading through a swamp he wasn't sure he'd get out of. "Uh… you remember when we didn't have those fancy sprinklers?" He gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "Back when we had to clean up all the… y'know… werewolf mess?”Travis gave a slight nod. "Well… one time, I was in cell five, cleaning up after one of Chris's… uh… episodes, and I guess I wasn't paying attention. Kicked the door shut by accident." Bobby winced at the memory. "Forgot it turned electric when it closed. Went to open it, and… burned my damn hand up bad."Travis's eyebrow furrowed. He remembered that day, Chris had called him and they both took Bobby to the hospital for the burns even though Bobby didn't feel it that much."Yeah," Bobby said, rubbing his fingers together absently. "Got stuck in there for hours 'cause Ma didn't find me 'til she called us for lunch. Couldn't open the door from the inside once it was shut."Travis swallowed hard, that image of Bobby alone inside the electrified cell still twisted something deep within him."After that," Bobby said, his voice dropping to a low, "I started jammin' a rag or somethin' in the lock. Just enough so the door couldn't shut all the way. No more shocks for ol' Bobby."He chuckled awkwardly; no humor was in it. "Told Ma, and she got Pa to put in these sprinklers instead, so I wouldn't have to go in there as much. Thought it'd be easier to clean up like this."Travis stared at his brother, his heart pounding in his chest. Bobby pointed over at the open door of the cells. The one in between the cages."Funny, right? Just one little rag, and I never got locked in again." Bobby gave a sheepish smile, as if he'd just confessed to sneaking a piece of pie off the counter.For an instant Travis felt something in him break loose, a quiet epiphany crept into his mind as he stared at Bobby. His brother wasn't a schemer, but this story, the way he'd told it—it wasn't just a memory; it was an offering. Bobby wasn't remembering the past; he was clearing a path, giving permission. He was, in his own silent, roundabout way, telling him that he'd turn a blind eye—that he might help. It struck Travis then, with a gravity he hadn't experienced in years, that his brother wasn't just blindly following his parent’s orders; he was choosing to break a rule here, choosing to guide him out. It stirred something deep and desperate inside him, a flicker of hope he hadn't known he could feel anymore.Travis sat there, his mouth dry. He tried to speak, but no sound came out. Then suddenly, laughter bubbled up from his chest, sharp and jagged. He laughed and laughed, the sound ringing through the cell, until tears blurred his vision. Bobby blinked, looking both relieved and confused."Yeah, brother," Travis choked out, a smile breaking through the tears. "That's… that's a hell of a story."The smile came back, slow and awkward. Bobby stood, the chair creaking as he pushed it back. "I'll be back with somethin' to eat soon, alright? Don't… don't fall sleep.""I'm holdin' you to that." Travis murmured, thick with emotion. Bobby turned to leave, his heavy boots echoing on the concrete. "Yeah, well… don't say I never told ya a story.”Travis let out a long, shuddering breath as he disappeared around the corner.He glanced over at Laura, who stared between them with wide eyes, shock and confusion fighting their way across her features. She hadn't expected Travis to laugh like that after she saw him breaking down not twenty minutes ago, a full panic attack that has taken all her wits to get him to snap out of it. He gave her a weak smile, hope flickering in his gaze for the first time since what felt like forever."We're moving," Travis said in a low, even tone, and, in one smooth motion, he was up and crossing the room to the small pile where they kept what little belongings they had. Laura stared at him in surprise—her eyebrows shooting upwards."What? What's going on?" she asked in a low, urgent voice. Travis didn't answer immediately, his hands sorting through their things, picking something up only to release it just as quick."When Bobby was born," he began, much more distant, as if he was thinking of something far, far away, "we realized he was—different. Special, Ma said. He never knew how to do much without us helping him." He stopped then, shaking his head. "When he got older, Da took him into the military. Said it would give him purpose, teach him discipline. And in a way, it did."Laura furrowed her brow, watching as he rummaged. "What are you talking about?"Travis stopped, clasped a toothbrush in his hands, and snapped off a shard of the plastic handle. "Bobby learned loyalty. He learned hierarchy. That's how his brain works. Whatever Dad or Ma says, he follows without question. It's how he survives."What she was thinking was saddening Laura. Bobby was dangerous, yes, but there was a pang of sadness to it—the idea that he wasn't fully in control, just following orders, doing what he thought was right. And she wondered how many punishments had gotten him into the ruler-follower he was now. Travis pulled himself up and went to the door between their cells, playing with the lock. "For him, it's easy. Dad says to keep you locked up, that's what he does. Doesn't matter how much I tell him to stop. His brain won't let him." He sounded frustrated but also—resigned.Laura had opened her mouth to say something, but the words caught in her throat as she watched Travis step into the other cell and close the door behind him. He turned then to stare at her through the bars; his expression unreadable."He's a good man, in his own way," Travis said, much more subdued now. "He just doesn't understand that what he does is wrong. But Bobby—he is still my brother and he loves me. I need to remember that, need to listen, even when I don't want to."Laura wanted to ask what he meant, but before she could utter a word, Travis pushed against the door. Her heart leaped into her throat, and a gasp escaped her lips as she thought for sure he'd get electrocuted, but instead, the door swung easily open, sans resistance."Oh my god," she whispered, eyes wide in disbelievement.Travis stepped through the now open doorway, his face set with grim determination. "We're getting out of here," he said, his voice full of resolution.The weight of his words hung heavy in the air. This was it; the start of their getaway.“Grab the radio," Travis said with a low, even voice. He dropped down under the bed and pulled one of the boxes out from underneath, while Laura moved to comply. Her hands shook as she fiddled with the device, nerves fraying at the edges. "You remember how to turn it on, right?""Affirmative, Sheriff," she said, her attempt at lightness sucked down by the weight of the atmosphere.Travis gave a strained laugh and chucked her a pair of socks. Laura caught them mid-air, yanking them onto her feet in one swift motion. Barefoot running through the forest was a myth—simply not as simple and comfortable as it looked in the movies."And who do you have to contact on the radio when you turn it on?" he asked again, his eyes flashing and serious now, burning into hers."Denis Whitlock," Laura repeated without hesitation. She knew the drill, Travis having inculcated it into her time and again. But there was something in the way he acted that caught the words in her throat."Good girl." He stood up, moved to her with purpose. "Leave everything behind. Go to the toilet cell, and listen to me carefully: you don't move until Bobby is completely out of the room, you understand?"Laura nodded but a sensation in her stomach bothered her, as doubt gnawed at her insides. She swallowed hard and her trembling voice could hardly ask, "Where will you be?"A beat of silence stretched between them, suffocating."Travis…""I'll be fine," he cut her off, his tone too final. Too absolute. "I need you to get out, get in the truck, and drive. Keep driving until you're far enough, then turn the radio on and call officer Whitlock.""No." Laura's voice was firm as she stepped closer. "You said both of us. You're not part of this plan. Where are you going to be?"Travis grabbed her shoulders, the pressure in his grip a betrayal of his own fear. "I'm buying you time. But I'm right behind you, I promise.""I don't believe you." Her eyes bore into his, searching for something, anything, that would make this lie easier to accept."I don't care if you believe me or not," he shot back, his voice cracking slightly with desperation. "I need you to turn the radio on and contact Denis Whitlock.""But Travis—""Just trust me," he interrupted, caressing her shoulders with his thumps, his anxiety slipping through. "Please, Laura. Just this once, trust me."They'd spent months locked together in those cages—sharing moments of vulnerability, pain, and survival. And he had never asked her to trust him, knowing well he didn't deserve it after everything that he had done to her. But now—now—he was asking.He was ready to beg.And to her surprise, she realized she did trust him. She trusted him with her life."You're right behind me, right?" she asked in a little voice, firm but with the reassurance needed.Travis nodded, though the guilt remained heavy in his chest. He knew he was lying, he was never going to make it out with her, but she had to believe so. For her own safety."Okay," Laura whispered, shaking, both from fear and determination. "Let's do this."And while her voice quivered, the fighter in her was there all along, willing to go. Ready to trust him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It could have been hours, could've been minutes—there was no telling down here in the perpetual red glow of the basement. Then, footsteps sounded, the ones he'd come to know, from down the corridor. Bobby. With their trays of food.Travis paced, his nerves pulled tighter than piano wire. Laura sat on the bed, her leg jiggling in a jittery rhythm as she silently watched him. The tension between them coagulated into an almost-drowning consistency. Then they heard those steps, and it became something more primordial yet: the sound of survival.The moment Bobby appeared, Laura got to her feet; her breath caught in her throat. She tried giving him a small smile—the weight of everything still raw between them, especially after what transpired during their last confrontation. Yet, all of a sudden, there was an almost warm note in her voice as she spoke."Hey, Big B," she said, forcing her voice to sound casual. She'd never forget how Bobby had helped her, gone against his parents for her. It had meant the world, changing everything for her, and she was grateful, more than she'd ever find the words for."Hey, Laura." Bobby smiled—a bright effortless thing, like nothing was wrong. Like they all weren't stuck in this mess together."Don't tell me—stew again?" she asked, trying for lightness, and tension still clung to her words."How'd you know?" Bobby chuckled as he stopped before the door. His eyes moved between her and Travis, filled with that same big-hearted innocence, entirely oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.For a moment, Laura said nothing; then she turned to the toilet cell and took a deep breath—as though preparing herself for something. She shut the door behind her with a soft click; somehow, the sound was final.Bobby nodded, reached for the door separating him from Travis's cell. The hinges squeaked loud in the dead quiet. Travis moved one step closer to him, eyes locking on his brother's. They stayed that way for a heartbeat, two brothers trapped on opposite sides of something neither of them could ever fully escape.Travis's chest clenched with the knowledge of what this called for. Hardening his face, in one swift movement, Travis kicked the tray away, food flying across the floor, before he dashed into the corridor. He moved instinctively now, never just running for himself anymore, but now for Laura too.Bobby had stood there, frozen for a second, looking down at the mess and back to the open door. His gaze shifted to the cell where Laura was supposed to be locked—his brow furrowed. Laura and he stared directly into each other's eyes. Then slowly, almost methodically, he turned to walk after Travis.Travis's lungs were burning as he sprinted down the corridor. Every step felt heavier than the last, but he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when they were this close. The trap door was looming ahead, and he skidded to a stop, his heart racing, listening. He turned around to face the corridor and sat on the steps.Then he waited.Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours until Bobby's heavy footsteps finally caught up. Travis looked up, watching as his brother materialized from the shadows. They locked eyes, and Travis could see it was there—the hesitation, the conflict, the loyalty—it all swirled in Bobby's head."Had to give it a shot, didn't I?" Travis muttered, a smirk pulling on his lips despite the adrenaline coursing through him."You always sucked at hide and seek," Bobby finally replied, a lopsided grin breaking through his usual stoic mask.Travis chuckled; his heart wasn't in it. Bobby's brain worked one way: follow orders, protect the family. But deep inside, somewhere, there was love too. That much Travis knew.He stood up and they stayed there in silence for a while until Bobby looked over his shoulder."Do you think it's time to go back?" he asked. 'Do you think she is already gone?' was the question both of them really heard."You in a rush?" Travis whispered. Bobby shook his head and laid his huge hand on Travis's shoulder, gesturing back toward the cells—the weight of it there, but not insistent. Counting his steps as they padded silently along, Travis felt each fall like a revelation, each like a count toward Laura's freedom.Around the corner, as the cells slid into view, Travis's heart stopped. He held his breath; his eyes wide in anticipation. And then, there it was—the empty cell.
She was gone.
They stood there, bathed in that eerie red light, both brothers frozen in time. Bobby's grip on Travis's shoulder got tighter; his face contorted into something resembling fear—relief, perhaps even understanding. Travis turned to him, his eyes meeting his brother's, the latter wide as an ocean, brimming with a river of emotions which he couldn't find the words to put across."She's gone," Travis whispered, his voice hardly audible. "You need to tell Pa, don't you?"Bobby's face fell. For a moment, Travis saw the boy his brother used to be; innocent, wide-eyed, terrified. His mind was in a tussle between duty and some wordless bond that had linked them. But he couldn't resist for long. Travis nodded, his head gesturing to him to do what needed to be done."Better go tell them."The nod that came from Bobby was slight and reluctant; his feet were as lead. Slowly, he turned and started down the corridor toward the trap door: with each echoing step a weight upon what he was to do. Travis had never heard his brother move this slow. Ever. But the instant Bobby's back was turned, Travis bolted.He ran as he had never run before, the legs churning, crimson glow of the basement behind him like wolves upon his heels. His lungs ached, every breath an edge, but he forged ahead—faster, faster, till the barrels were blur around him.And then—"Travis!"It sliced the air like a shot, freezing him in mid-stride. He spun around, heart hammering in his chest, and saw her—Laura emerging from the shadows between the barrels, her face contorted in a mixture of panic and resolution."Laura, fuck! I told you to run!" he growled; the fear was seeping into his voice."There's no window," she spat, heaving at her chest as panic rose high in her throat.Travis's mind reeled, but his legs moved on. He grasped her hand and tugged her forward. "We'll figure it out." But as they entered the second room, at the mere view of that boarded-up window—a gut punch—thick wood planks met them, nailing down tightly their avenue of escape."Fuck," he snarled. The anger bubbling just below the surface. "They must have nailed it down after the fucking werewolf left."Laura, quick-thinking as ever, spotted a pickaxe lying closer in. "Here!" she threw it across to him.He caught it with shaking hands and didn't waste another second. He swung it with all his might. The wood exploded in a shower of splinters as the heavy ax bit into the timber, the sounds of the blows ripping through the quiet. The sunbeam that finally cut through the boards was like a gift from heaven, but it wasn’t right.The hole was too small.Travis dropped the pickaxe and turned to Laura, who was staring upwards at the light; her face still tugging between disbelieving and panicked. "There's no fucking way you can fit through there," she said, her voice breaking.“One step at a time," he growled, voice taut, and grasped her shoulders. He thrust her toward the hole, lifting her by the waist, muscles straining. Laura wriggled, pressing her eyes shut as her body scraped against the jagged wood. The light was too bright, too blinding after the suffocating darkness of the cellar.Travis laid her feet flat against his chest and heaved, pressing with his entire body what little he had left. His muscles shrieked in protest as his teeth ground together—beads of sweat began to fall down his face, mingling with the dirt and blood. "Come on, come on…," he grunted, his voice low and desperate, he shoved harder. His arms shook with effort, his chest burning from the weight of what was to come.He could feel her body shift, inch by inch, with her laboriously slipping through the narrow gap of the hard material. Her grunts of pain were muffled by creaking wood scraping against her sides, but then—she was free. She tumbled forward, her body rolling out of the dark basement and into the light, disappearing from his view.For a moment, everything was still. The world outside seemed so distant, so unreachable. Then she stood, and from below, Travis watched as Laura blinked, stunned, standing under the sun for the first time in months. It hit her skin like a wave: warmth flooding her body, wrapping her in an embrace so easily forgotten. She was breathing in shudders, shallow, while her eyes accommodated the riot of colors, the green of the trees, and the blue of the sky. The air was crisp and filled with scents of pine and earth—the opposite of stale dampness she was accustomed to in her basement.The birds, the goddamn birds, were chirping everywhere around her, loud and alive. She hadn't noticed how much she'd missed that sound, or the breeze against her face carrying scents of pine and damp earth. Her senses were on overload, catching every little detail she'd almost forgotten: the colors, the rustling leaves, the sky stretching endlessly above her. All of it struck her stomach like a blow, raw and overwhelming. The light was blinding after so many months confined within the red, the clamped confines of that cell. She squinted against it, swallowing hard as her eyes adjusted, tears slipping out from the mere shock of brightness—not due to sadness, but from how painfully good this was, being here, in the open. Alive. She blinked fast, trying to anchor herself, as if the light and air could slip away any second now, like they'd just been some impossible dream.It was too much all at once, this crazy amalgam of freedom and pain. She let herself take it in, just for a moment, feeling every bit of it with a fierceness she hadn't known she had left. Within one shattered second, euphoria hit the concrete, shattering like glass to yank Laura back into grim reality. Travis wasn't with her. She spun around, heart plummeting as she looked down.Travis remained in the pit, his face partially obscured by shadow; still, enough light filtered in that she saw the grim resignation there. She was out—her world suddenly bathed in freedom and sunlight, his world remained swallowed by darkness. The distance was impossibly vast, a jagged line cutting them apart."Go," he said, and his voice was oddly steady, certain. "Bobby will be bringing my parents down here soon. The way to the truck should be clear.""No," she breathed, dropping to her knees. There was desperation edging her tone, and she reached down, grabbing his face as her fingers brushed against the roughness of his cheek. "No, Travis, no! Don't do that. You promised—you promised me! We both get out of here. Make the hole bigger, damn it!"Travis held her gaze, his conflict and pain raw in his eyes, so deep it made her chest ache. She could see the choice he'd already made in his expression, the decision that tore them apart."Laura," he whispered, already his voice was low and laced with regret.Her hand was shaking on his face. "No! Don't you dare try to play the hero now." She swallowed, the words fierce, her voice only partially cracking. "You said both of us. Both, Travis. I didn't go through all of this alone just to leave you here. I need you with me, I need—" Her words faltered, but she made herself hold his gaze, eyes ablaze. "I'm not doing this without you.”He took a shaky breath, the ache in his chest matching hers as he closed his hand over hers. "You have to get out. I need you to be safe. I need to know you'll make it."She shook her head back at him, defiance in every line of her body, through her eyes shone like diamonds with unshed tears. "Then come with me. You're the one who taught me to fight—you think I'll just leave you here?”Travis swallowed hard, hoping his resolve stayed in place. "You can, and you will," he said, his fingers closing around hers with all the strength he had left. "You're the strongest person I know. You survived two months in that cage I put you in, you lost your eye, you escaped and instead of running away, you came back. You know why? Because you are Laura Fucking Kearney, and you hunt werewolves. You'll make it. You'll get out, call the police… and then I'll be right behind you."She clamped down her jaw, unwilling to hightail it, her fingers digging into his hand. "You're lying to me, Travis. You're just letting them win.”His lips pressed together, unable to meet her fierce gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered, the words strangled, barely audible. "I have to stay. But I need you to go. I need you to live.”Laura's breathing came fast, her chest tight as she processed what he was saying. Everything was tangled in a fierce, raw swirl of hurt and anger, and she fought to hold back the sting of the tears in her eyes. She wasn't just sad; she was furious—angry at his stubborn refusal to fight for himself."If you stay, you will die," he said, the determination in his voice cutting through the softness. "They won't hurt me, but they will kill you. This is the only way; I need you to go.""Travis," she whispered, low, controlled, even as her voice shook. "Don't do this. Don't make this choice for me."He pulled her hand to his lips, pressing a shaking kiss to her knuckles. His gaze flickered up, meeting hers with a teary resolution, and she could see that he had already said goodbye. "I swear I'll find you, Laura. Just… get out, now. I'll hold them off, this is the only way you will have a chance to get to the truck. If you don't go now, they will catch us, they will—" he swallowed the words. He couldn't stand the thought. "Travis…," she sobbed, her throat raw from screaming, her heart breaking with every breath. “Go," he whispered again, his voice soft and hard and imploring. "Please."
I can't see you die.
A raw, silent scream pulsed through her, but she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to give voice to the desperation clawing at her insides. I won't leave him, she thought, but her body refused to listen, her mind forced to acknowledge what he was saying. If she stayed, she'd be in danger. He'd be in danger. And she knew Travis would never forgive himself for that.Her hand slipped from his, her fingers numb, and she staggered back, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. For a split second, she hesitated, every instinct screaming to defy him, to fight for him, to pull him up with her. But in the end, she knew she had to trust him, had to leave him behind—and it tore her apart.She cast one last look, then forced herself to her feet, her vision blurred, her heart breaking. She stumbled away, steps shaking, her whole body taut with barely constrained rage and grief.Every step cut into her chest like a knife, tearing at her; every agonizing fall of her foot sent her heart into shreds. Turning around one last time, her face caught in the fading light, Travis remained in the darkness, watching her go.He watched as she vanished around the corner of the house, sunlight filtered through the leaves of the trees around her, painting her in a gold glow. She was bathed in light, a goddess-like vision of all that is good in the world. The sight of her, alive and free and beautiful, was more heartbreaking than he had ever set eyes on, more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. The sun caught in her hair, turning it to gold, making her look like the dawn itself, shining, untouchable.She was free, and that was all that mattered.He heard the voices, distant, faint at first, but unmistakable. The gruff murmurs, the heavy footsteps, the familiar cadence of his family. Too far to be past the barrels, but close enough a bolt of adrenaline shot through his body. The pulse quickened, the sound of their approach tightening his chest with the kind of fear he hadn't felt in years.Travis tore his gaze from where Laura vanished. He'd watched her disappear, a momentary figure of gold in the sun. She was free. She was gone. There wasn't room for anything more than hate inside him. Hatred toward what they had done, what they'd turned him into. What he had let happen.They'd never find her.It rose in him like a storm, nothing left unspent. It had nothing to do anymore with guilt or grief, regret or love; it was something feral, something congealed in his bones. His jaw clenched tight, he could hear his teeth grinding. It coiled tighter inside him, every muscle, every fiber of his being winding up for the inevitable clash.
This was it.
The last part of him that was still a Hackett—still handcuffed to the twisted, suffocating weight of his family—snapped. Broke clean in two, shattering under the pressure of realization: they would not take this from him. They would not take her. The moment they had become his jailers, the moment they had him chained to the legacy of blood and terror, they had sealed their fate.His hands balled into fists; his nails dug deep into his skin, but the pain was hardly acknowledged. Their voices—he could hear them now, louder, closer—were as real in his mind's eye as if they were standing right there: his father's eyes cold and calculating, his mother fanatically devoted to their twisted cause, Bobby lurching along with them, heavy-footed, no will of his own.
Not this time.
Travis lunched himself forward, his body well ahead of his mind's being aware that it was even moving. The fire of hatred surging through him, as if it had just lain in quiet embers before, awaiting their discovery, burned away the last remnants of hesitation, of doubt. Feet pounded against earth, each step driving him closer to the voices, closer to the inevitable confrontation.He wasn't going to let them find her.They would never lay eyes on her again. He'd make sure with every last breath in his body if that's what it would take. He was past the point of no return, past any trying to balance the man he aimed to be with a monster so desperately built from him by his family.He was going to head right into them. And he would put an end to it.For her. For what they had taken from him.For what they would never get back.Laura ran, her legs pumping underneath her as the sting of her tears blinded her vision, but it wasn't the tears—it was the rage. Rage at herself, at the situation, at the very thought of leaving Travis behind. But she couldn't afford to break down now. Not when everything depended on her. The result of breathing left a burning sensation in her lungs, the cool night air nipping at her skin as she sprinted to the old blue Ute. Her feet skimmed across the ground, her body would not be stopped, would not be held back or slowed.She wrenched the door open and threw herself into the driver's seat. The world was spinning around her, and her mind was racing too fast to keep up. Focus, Laura, she ordered herself, focus. She slammed the door shut, hit the lock—a reflexive movement, as if that added layer of protection might somehow hold off the weight of it all. Her hands scrambled wildly under the seat, searching—no, scrambling—for the keys. She was breathing too fast, too shallow, but she didn't have the time to calm down. Not now.
Where the fuck are the keys?
At last, her fingers touched metal and, with a victorious snatch, she jammed the keys into the ignition. The motor sputtered, coughed weakly, and her heart almost stopped. It wasn't starting. Not now, not fucking now."Be patient," Travis's voice echoed in her head, his tone calm and urgent at the same time. "It's an old truck; it'll play on you. But be ready to hit the gas."Her hands were shaking as she grasped the wheel. She was grinding her teeth, a low growl escaping her throat, as she twisted the key again, willing the old Ute to just cooperate. The engine groaned to life with a bang. The sound was so loud it froze her for a second, her mind jumping to the worst conclusions. Was that a gunshot? Had they found him? Had she just left him behind to die?Time seemed to shrink around her as the breath caught in her throat. She couldn't hear for a second, save the deafening ring in her ears. Her mind screamed at her to move, do something; however, she was stuck, paralyzed with fear about the fact that she had just probably made the worst decision of her life.It was at that moment the engine sputtered fully to life—that same banging noise filling the air—and Laura slammed her foot on the accelerator, not waiting a single second more.The ute jerked violently forward, kicking up dirt as it tore down the road. Her heart pounded against her chest, while her knuckles were white on the steering wheel as she pushed the vehicle to its limits. The relief, terror and anger mixing in a storm that raged inside. She wanted to turn back, to run back into the basement and drag Travis out herself, never to let him go. But he was right. Always fucking right.Because the rational part of her brain—the part that sounded so much like Travis's steady voice—knew the truth. She was the one in danger. She was the reason he'd been locked in that cell to begin with, and once she was out of the picture, Travis would revert back to what he had always been: a Hackett. And Hacketts didn't hurt their own. She'd seen it, clear as day, that day the world seemed to stop when Travis got electrocuted. Jedediah had moved to protect his son, his blood. Even Constance, twisted and as she was, stepped back.Her rational mind clung to that image, using it to quiet the screaming ache in her chest. But her heart—her irrational, desperate heart—refused to accept it. Her heart wanted him out of that house no matter what, even if it meant she'd have to walk back in there and face down every Hackett herself.But it just wasn't an option. Not now. Not yet. So now, all was left to her.She flew down the dirt road, trees passing in a blur of green and black. The wheels beneath her rattled violently, the ute groaning with every bump and turn, but she didn't care. Her whole body shook, her mind fixed on one thing—getting to the police, getting them to believe her.
They have to believe me.
The road twisted in front of her, but she hardly noticed. Travis's voice echoed in her head: "Keep driving, don't look back." Yet every mile she put between herself and that house was another lash across her chest. Every bump in the road was like her heart seizing, guilt weighing into her heavier with each passing second.
I should have stayed. I should have stayed.
Her hands were shaking wildly as she made out a small, hidden turnout by the road. The truck skidded as she pulled off the main path onto it and ground to a screeching halt. Her pulse was racing, her lungs screaming for air as she fell forward, her forehead pressing against the steering wheel. Her whole body shook with the adrenaline coursing through her, but she did not have time to take a breath.
Radio. Get the damn radio.
Her fingers fumbled as she reached for the radio, almost dropping it in her panic, heart booming in her chest so loud that she could hardly hear herself think, but she made herself take a shaking breath before pressing the button."Hello? This is Laura Kearney! Anybody copy?" Hoarse, her voice cracked with desperation.
Please. Please, someone answer.
The silence afterward was oppressive. She held her breath in her throat, waited—seconds dragging on like hours. Then finally, a voice sputtered out of the static."Copy, Officer Hawkins. Who's this again?"
Thanks fuck.
"It's Laura Kearney!" she yelled, her voice catching with the vehemence of it. "I've been missing for four fucking months! I need to talk to Officer Denis Whitlock— now!"Another pause, too long, too uncertain. Her stomach twisted in fear."You said Kearney?" the voice repeated this time more slowly, putting something together—known yet not to be believed."Yes! Laura fucking Kearney!" Her voice was frantic by now, shaking, while she fought her corner to keep her cool. "I need to speak to Denis Whitlock right now! Please—please, it's an emergency!"The static crackled menacingly before the voice came on again—this time his tone was more suspicious. "Where are you? Whose radio is this?"Her panic surgered anew, her chest tightening. "Just get me fucking Denis!" she screamed—the strain in her voice hoarse, every word a desperate declaration. Her whole body trembled with the furor of being so near and yet so far.
Don't leave me now. Don't you fucking leave me now.
A few beats later, a colder grasper voice came on the line. "Officer Whitlock here, Ms. Kearney, we need your position."Her words grew into a babbling fit. "I'm outside Hackett's Quarry! We need help! Sheriff Hackett—he's in danger. We have been trapped in his folk's house for months, he helped me escape but he is still there. You have to help him!"The silence thereafter was worse than anything, the disbelieving doubt crawling through the line.They didn't believe her. They wouldn't come."Look," Whitlock began, his tone dismissive, "I know you kids think this kind of thing is funny, but the police aren't—"
Fuck! No. No.
Travis had warned her of this. He knew the locals. Knew how North Kill was full of rumors, how the town treated the Hacketts like urban legends, like twisted folklore. He also told her they will believe her less after the warrant search wasn't successful. But this wasn't a prank. It was real. And they had to believe her. So, her mind went back to the notebook, to Travis wisdom and words. His plan. His kidness. His secrets. "Officer Denis Whitlock, badge number 1423-97," Laura cut him off, shrill with anger, "you owe Travis fucking Hackett fifty fucking dollars because you're a piece of shit that forgot your anniversary on shift, and he picked out flowers and gifts for your wife so she wouldn't know you forgot!" She could feel her throat burning with the strain, her chest heaving the extended silence stretched once again. But she couldn't stop. "You owe Travis fifty fucking bucks! And if you don't come, now, I swear I'll kill you myself!"The radio was silent now, and Laura was clutching the receiver so tightly her knuckles had turned white. For one heart-stopping moment, she felt she'd lost them—lost her only hope for any kind of aid. Her breathing was short, sharp gasps while her eyes blurred with the near-drowning tide of dread.She clenched her teeth and made herself still. Keep it together, Kearney. Breathe. She could almost hear the low, calm tone of Travis's voice.The radio sputtered back on, and a voice broke through: "We're on our way."Relief struck her like a fist to the solar plexus. She hunched over, laying her forehead against the steering wheel as her body began to shake. She scrubbed a hand harshly over her face, wiping away the tears that managed to leak free. They're coming. Her heart thundered with raw, furious relief, yet her mind stayed clear, set on what had to be done now. This wasn't over—not yet.A siren wailed, far off but getting louder, and another spate of adrenaline flared to life in her veins. She sat up straighter, her jaw setting with determination. She sniffled and gave one final swipe at a tear that dropped down her cheek before reaching for the gear shift."I'm Laura Fucking Kearney, and I hunt werewolves," she whispered to herself—a hard whisper of defiance. The words came out hoarse, still frayed by emotion, but the fire in her eyes had re-ignited.With one steadying breath, she rammed the truck into drive. The big motor rumbled beneath her and she floored it, tires kicking up gravel as she took off down the road. Every bump, every mile blurred beneath her, her gaze set on the flashing lights ahead like a lifeline. Travis, she thought, her grip on the wheel tighter. I'm coming. Just hold on.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Laura flew down the road, her hands clamped tight on the wheel, her foot heavy on the gas. She didn't care that she was pushing past the speed limit. The police cars ahead were her only goal, and she wasn't going to let them reach Hackett's house without her. She needed to be there, to make sure Travis got out this time. No more tricks, no more lies from Jedediah or Constance. Not again.When an ambulance appeared right behind her, some unnerving sense of unease washed over her. Maybe it was relief, but it wasn’t important; because Travis was going to be okay. He would. There wasn't a chance in hell anyone in that house would harm another Hackett. She repeated it in her head, trying to assure herself as her stomach roiled. Finally, they reached the old manor, that looked empty and abandoned like an old rotten building. Too old to even understand how it was still standing. The police pulled up in front of the house. Laura watched as officers stepped out, calling for the Hacketts to come outside. Her heart was pounding in her chest as the weight of it all pressed hard upon her. She didn't trust them. Not after everything. Not without her being there to witness Travis walking out of that damn house. She barely noticed that an officer has approached her until he was at her window, his hand pausing near his holster, tension in his shoulders. She rolled down the window, her voice coming out harsher than she had meant it to."I’m Laura Kearney," she said, clamping onto the police radio in her hand as though it was a lifeline. "I’m the one who made the call.”The officer, eyeing her for a moment, visibly relaxed and removed his hand from his holster. "Alright, Ms. Kearney, are you injured?”“No, but Sheriff Hackett is trapped in a hidden cellar under the dining room, there is a trap door next to the table,” she nodded at the house. The officer mirrored her move. “I understand, you have to remain in your vehicle, ma'am," he said. "We've got it under control."Laura's eyes snapped to the house just as Jedediah stepped out. His face was swollen and scratched as if he'd been hit with blunt force—one eye swollen nearly shut, his cheek mottled with bruises. He made a signal with his hand, pointing inside the house as he spoke in slurred words. He seemed to grab something from inside the house, out of view from Laura's perspective, and then she saw how he helped his wife to get out. When Constance finally stepped outside with her husband, she looked off. The woman who once burned with fierce, terrifying intensity now stood like a ghost of herself. Her skin was pale, drained of color; her face was slack, expressionless. It wasn't just that—Constance's eyes, once sharp and calculating, were dull, empty. The fire in her had been distinguished. It is as if she wasn't there at all, just a shell, going through the motions like if they were muscle memory.It was not just her face that unsettled Laura, though; it was the blood. Constance's dress was spotted with deep red splotches, almost fresh and too real. The splashes of crimson stood out strongly against the soft floral print, soaking into the material like a bleeding, twisted painting in its hue. It hung off her like an accusation—silent screams embedded into every drop.Her hands were smeared with the stains too, streaks of blood that seemed to announce she had touched something, or worse, someone. Laura's gaze darted to her pale fingers; they were trembling slightly, a slight twitch, as though she was a broken puppet. She wasn't holding anything, but something in the way her arms hung limply at her sides made Laura wonder if, only moments before, they'd been wrapped around something terrible. Constance's lips parted, but no sound fell from them. She did not even turn in the direction of Jedediah, who stood beside her, impervious to her current state of shock while talking with an officer. Constance stared blankly ahead, her eyes completely vacuous, as if she stared beyond everything—beyond the police, beyond the house, beyond reality. She was somewhere else, lost in a void of nothingness. Her chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths, but it was almost as if her soul had fled, leaving behind just the husk. Laura's skin crawled. This wasn't the fierce, domineering woman that had held her captive. This was something worse. Something broken.She had no idea what horrors waited inside, but there was one thing she knew for sure—whatever had happened, it had completely shattered Constance's existence.'There wasn't a chance in hell anyone in that house would hurt another Hackett.' Laura knew that. But what if Travis wasn't considered a Hackett anymore?Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her stomach dropped.The car door flew open beneath Laura's fingers, her legs running before her brain registered the signal. She had to get inside. She had to reach Travis. A police officer stepped in, trying to block her path, but she reacted on instinct. She flung the radio at him and in that second of surprise, surged forward. Another cop lunged for her; his arm outstretched."Ms. Kearney, we have all under—" but she was ready. She knocked his arm away, sending him off balance, then swept the back of his knee with her foot, dropping him to the ground.It was Travis's training—his voice in her head, guiding her through every move.She ran toward the house, her heart hammering in her chest, her pulse deafening in her ears. The officers shouted after her, but she didn't stop.Laura could hear the muffled shouting in the distance—someone was yelling, "Don't shoot, don't shoot!" —but it was as if the sound came from another universe, too far away to pull her back to reality. With her heart racing in her ears, she ran at full speed through the front door, and did not even have the guts to turn back to look at Jedediah and Constance. Jedediah had barely looked at her, and the few instances he had, his eyes were cold and detached. The expression on Constance's face was eerie—a string puppet whose strings had been hacked. They were ghosts now, bits of a family torn apart by its secrets, by its sins.She was slapped with heavy, thick air—as if there was a wall—when she stepped indoors. It was suffocating, thick with the smell of decay and dust, faint scents of home-cooked meals long forgotten clinging to old wooden walls. The house almost seemed to sink under its own weight in history; every inch was saturated with memories that refused to die. Some good embodied with laughter, and other so terribly wrong that made her skin crawl.But this place, Laura knew it. Really knew it. Not just because she had been through these halls that other full moon night, but because Travis had shown her, page after page, in that notebook they shared in the cell. He'd drawn the blueprints, mapped out every room, every corridor, every creaking floorboard. It was all there, etched into her memory down to the tiniest details he considered important."The house is a maze," he had told her one night, his voice low, almost reverent. "But you don't need to know all of it. Just the parts that matter."And those parts? She could see them now, clear as if she'd been there herself. As if she had grown in that house. As if it meant for her more than a prison.She ran down the hallway, her feet barely skimming the ground as she avoided the creaky section of floorboards Travis had warned her against—the ones toward the front that squeaked loud enough to wake the dead. To her left, the doorframe to the old study whizzed past, and though she'd never stepped into the room, she knew what lay beyond it—Travis had told her about the maps his father used to keep pinned to the walls, planning out hunts and tracking the moon cycles. But she wasn't heading there. She had one goal, and one goal only.The living room loomed ahead, the heart of the house. Already she could envision the space, just as Travis had described it: the oversized fireplace, cold and dark now but once the centerpiece of family gatherings; the high arcing windows letting in slivers of light; the heavy, oppressive feeling of a room that had witnessed too much. And just beyond that—the dining room. She could have sworn she felt Travis's presence nudging her forward, his voice sure in her mind as he described the giant table that filled the room. "It's where we used to hold meetings," he'd said flipping through the notebook. "Dad at the head of the table, like some twisted king.”She burst into the room, hardly turning towards the table. Her eyes were fixed on the open trapdoor. There it was—where Travis had said it would be—right in the middle of the floor, just behind where the dining chairs should have been, as he'd described when they discussed their escape plan in hushed tones. She almost heard his voice as she ran toward it.Her breath came in a sharp burst, legs trembling with exhaustion, but she didn't stop. She dropped down to the trapdoor in the floor, the old wood creaking beneath her weight. Down below her, the darkness greeted her like an old enemy. Laura threw herself down the stairs two steps at a time, her heart racing with the knowledge every second counted. It was as if the walls of the cellar were closing in around her, damp stone and mildew alive in her nostrils, one of the darkest secrets of the Hackett family, where their grief fell into the most ultimate madness.Then she saw it.
The red room. The cells.
A wave of dread, that sickly crimson glow that had haunted her nightmares for what felt like an eternity, washed over her. It bathed the stone walls, the cold metal bars, the cold, unforgiving floor, the bed, the boxes with their belongings. Her eyes scanned the space, her heart sinking as she took in the sight before her—the cells were empty.The air was knocked from her lungs. She wavered frozen upon the edge of the red light, staring at the empty cages that should have held Travis. The panic then hit her like a punch to the gut. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and the taste of fear set bitterly on her tongue.
Travis wasn't there.
"Travis!"The silence was deafening. The absence of his voice, of the steady presence of him, shattered her. Panic rose in her throat.Everything around her was fuzzy and tinged with red as Laura sprinted down the corridor from which she escaped. The last place she had seen him before she ran away. The lines of barrels stacked on the walls and the rough stone floor beneath her feet were barely registered by her as she fled. All that mattered now was the figures that suddenly appeared in front of her: the large, bulky silhouette of Bobby crouching over the small, crumpled form slumped against the wall."Travis," she rasped, her voice raw, desperate. She was running toward him, her heart thudding in her chest. It was not until she was kneeling beside him that she even saw the blood. At first, it didn't register, just a dark, sticky stain seeping through his old worn-down clothes. But then, all she could see was red. Not the oppressive red of the cells or the crimson light which had bathed their prison for months—this was real. This was blood. Travis Hackett's blood. “He didn’t want to be alone,” came Bobby’s voice, soft and sticky with concern, looking at his brother with ultimate sadness.“Fuck, what happened?" she whispered, voice breaking.Travis's eyes flickered open. With a weak and strained gruffness in his voice, he asked, "What are you doing here?" He tried to sound strong, unyielding, as always, but the shock and fear etched upon his face twisted her insides. He looked terrified, but more than that—he looked relieved, has if he had made up his mind about his circunstance. And that terrified her even more."He started hitting Pa," Bobby muttered from beside them, his big hands shaking as he pointed to a gun lying on the floor a couple of meters from them. It was Travis' old police gun, the one he lost some months ago in the room upstairs when Laura attacked him while she was in her werewolf form. "Then he and mom fought for the gun—"“Bobby, go call the police. Tell them where we are; they'll take forever finding this fucking place." Snapped Laura, barely glancing in his direction as her attention locked on Travis. She could hear Bobby's steps disappear through the corridor but her full focus was not on him.Her hands pressed against the wound in Travis's right side as panic welled up her throat like bile. The heat of his blood was a weight, pulling her under and drowning her in helplessness. "I brought the police," she whispered. Her voice shook. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking. "Fuck… fuck, it's so much blood, oh my God—”"Shhh," Travis rasped, his hand—cold, trembling—clamped over hers in a weak attempt to steady hers. His knuckles were bruised and bloody, like he had just come up from a fight. Probably the reason why Jedediah’s face looked like it had when he came out of the house. "I'm fine.""You're so fucking obviously not fine!" Her voice cracked, her desperation breaking through the fragile control she was clinging to. Her hands pressed harder, but no matter how hard she pressed, blood continued to flow.Travis gave her a faint smile that never touched his eyes. "Hurts like a bitch, yeah," he slurred, breathing shallowly. "But I'm fine.”But he wasn't. He was pale—too pale. A ghostly hue had fallen over his skin, his eyelids fluttering with the effort of trying to remain conscious. Each breath came slower, more labored. Laura could feel him slipping away, and the harder she pressed, the more helpless she felt. The terror that had flashed in his eyes earlier had shattered him, and now it was breaking her, too."The police are here," she said in a rush, spilling out the words in some desperate haste as if talk could hold him to her. "They brought an ambulance. You're going to be alright, Travis, you're going to be alright—"Her voice broke again, her fear clamping down on her chest like a weight. She was trying to convince him, but she couldn’t even convince herself. His blood still streamed from the wound, staining her hands, slipping between her fingers like sand, and it felt like no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hold onto him.Travis let her talk, his gaze soft, unwavering as he looked up at her. He drank in every word, every whisper, every catch of her voice like it was the last gift he would ever receive. She was free—alive and free—and that was all that mattered. So long as she was okay, he could face anything. She shone even now, her face streaked with fear and sadness, her trembling hands slick with his blood. She was all what he had fought for, what made all this worthwhile.His body grew cooler which every breath; with every second, his strength ebbed, yet the sight of her kept him anchored. She was here with him; her presence moored him in this instant. He would not die alone, locked away in another cell—another prison of regret and failure, with his hands covered on her blood. No, in this ending they were free.
She was free.
He would die free, with her beside him—her voice the last thing he would hear, her touch the last warmth he would ever feel. His lips still bore the memory of her kiss, a bittersweet echo that burned hotter than the lacerating pain coursing through his body. That kiss had been a glimpse of something impossible, something he hadn't dared dream of—a life where they could share more than stolen moments: fleeting smiles, soft touches, glances—as they tried to survive.It wasn't fair. Not to her. To leave her with this memory, to make her stay and watch him fade away. He wanted to tell her to close her eyes, to just go away, but he couldn't get any more words through his clamping throat. He hated himself for wanting it, for being selfish enough to yearn her presence, her comfort, even as he knew how much it would hurt her. But God, he couldn't stop himself. He clung to it now, letting that selfishness wrap around him like a balm. Not to die alone, to have with him the one person he loved most in the world as the darkness came to claim him—it felt like the greatest mercy he could ever know.He wanted to be selfish this time, just this once, go to sleep while hearing her voice again, know she was safe, that she was free.For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt something like peace. They had won the only battle that truly mattered. This was the right ending to his story.He was happy. Truly, deeply happy. And it had been a very, very long time.Voices came from farther away in the basement, Bobby's noisy and familiar steps followed by a wave of unknown shoes, voices closing in, but none of it registered for Laura. The world outside had stopped. All she could perceive was the red, the blood flowing from Travis's body, slipping through her trembling hands. Her mind was numb, detached, like she was just another person from some faraway place watching the scene. It didn’t make sense. They were not in the cage anymore, she could see colors, darkened by the deep blackness of the cellar, but still colors.So why was there still so much red? “Stay with me," she whispered, her voice barely audible as her hands pressed harder against the wound, willing him to hold on. But even as she begged, she could feel him fading, slipping further away with every heartbeat."Stay with me, Travis," she repeated, the words sounding empty, swallowed up by the dread clawing at her chest. And yet, the blood continued to flow, relentless and cruel."Please," she begged, leaning down closer, her face inches from his. "Don't—Please, don't— I— Don't leave me."But even as she said it, she knew—he was slipping through her fingers, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.Then, out of nowhere, hands grabbed her shoulders. She screamed, fighting them, her hands full of sticky slimy red as they pulled her away from Travis. "No!" she screamed, fighting with all her might. "Don't take me away! I need to cover his fucking wound!"Her hands stretched out, clawing for him as they dragged her back. Her fingers brushed his cheek—one last desperate touch. Travis's eyes fluttered closed as their skin met, a raw, broken look of peace crossing his face. They were pulling her away, and she couldn't stop them. All she could do was watch as his blood smeared across his face, leaving a dark red mark where her hand had been.Laura's screams tore through the air; her body convulsed in sobs as the paramedics descended upon Travis, their hands pressing where hers had been, their voices calm but distant. She was empty, a hollow shell, as Bobby's massive arms wrapped around her, holding her against his chest. She slumped into him, her strength leaving her as he sat with her on the floor, his arms holding her hard against him, grounding her in the moment.The last thing she saw of them was the view of Travis going onto a stretcher, the body slipping away from her, as easily as the blood slipped through her hands. The instant Travis was whisked away, Bobby helped Laura to her feet and got her outside into the fresh air. The chill slapped her in the face but did little to dispel the numbness which had wrapped itself around her. In her mind, she was still in that cellar, still kneeling beside Travis, trying to stem blood which seemed never to stop flowing. She could hardly register the flashing lights of police cars around her or the murmurs of officers as she stepped out into the yard, her body held straight by Bobby.She recognized some of the faces; they belonged to the same police she had wrestled her way through to make her way up to the house. Now calm, speaking to her in quiet and careful tones. Someone was repeating her name, a term that barely reached her ear until firm fingers squeezed her shoulders, back into reality."Ms. Kearney," the cop tried again. Same guy who had tried to stop her earlier and she threw to the floor. "Are you hurt?""N-no," she whispered back, her voice hoarse, detached. “It’s not my blood.” He nodded sympathetically, and the other officer moved in closer with a shock blanket. He laid the blanket softly over her shaking shoulders. As they helped her, she glanced at her hands—red, slick with Travis's blood—and her stomach quivered at the sight, not being able to tear her gaze away."I'm Denis," said the officer gently, his voice soft, recognizing her shock. "We spoke on the radio." Laura blinked several times, finally placing his voice with something familiar. She nodded weakly. "If you're not injured, I'll take you to the hospital. Is that okay?" Denis asked softly, his voice careful, calm."T-Travis—" she stammered.“He's being taken to the hospital here in North Kill for stabilization, but he will most likely be transferred to Everwood for surgery. It's a bad wound, ma'am, but we are getting him the best help we can,” Denis said, his tone thick with understanding. “The ambulance can't handle you both. If you're not badly hurt, I can take you to the hospital here in North Kill and call your parents.”Her head chook violently. "No-I need to go with him to the same hospital he's going to. I want to be there," she stated, her voice showing signs of breaking with desperation.Denis blew out a gentle breath. "Ms. Kearney—""No! He got shot saving my life, it's my fault and I don't wanna go to some other fucking hospital! So you either take me to fucking Everwood or I'm taking their fucking truck again and driving there myself!" Her voice came out in a raw, choked cry, her shoulders shaking under the weight of it all.Denis' face softened. "Alright, ma'am," he said finally. "We'll go to Everwood. I'll get you there." He guided her to the police car by pressing a solid but soothing hand against her lower back to usher her inside as he opened the door.Laura collapsed onto the passenger seat; the shock blanket still wrapped tightly in her grasp. She was drained, empty. When Denis got in a couple of minutes later, and turned the key in the ignition, she couldn't help but turn and ask him, "What happened to him?”Denis hesitated before answering. "Mr. Hackett said there was a fight for a gun, and it went off during the struggle." His voice fell, quietening. "The doctors will do everything they can.""He saved my life," Laura whispered. Her voice was hardly audible. Her body still shaking.Denis's grip on the wheel tightened, his eyes fixed on the road, his tone soft. "That does sound like our Sheriff," he said nearly subdued, the pride deep inside the tone. "He'd always put himself in harm's way for someone else.""What happens now?" Laura asked, her voice raw with exhaustion."The state police are handling the investigation. We’ll call your parents; get you checked out at the hospital. They probably need to do a medical exam prior to the interrogation. We'll take slowly, at your own path, but your statement would be crucial to the investigation.""What happened to the rest of the counselors?" she asked softly. Denis's expression hardened slightly."I can't release any information so far; I apologize.""And Max? Max Brinly." Her voice caught in her throat. She braced herself, gripping the seat as if to ground herself.Denis shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I can't—""He's my boyfriend, he was trapped in the island in Hackett's Quarry." Laura could see Denis' swallow after her explanation."I’m so sorry, Ms. Kearney. Mr. Brinly—he didn’t make it.”Laura closed her eyes, her breath shallow, feeling like the ground was falling away beneath her. The words hit her like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath right from her lungs. She shut her eyes, her heart pounding as a wave of anguish, shock, and raw, unbelievable incredulity surged over her. Max was gone. They'd been through so much, holding on to hope that somehow, they would make it out to the other side of this nightmare, that they would have the chance to meet again. Or at least to say all the things they had not had a chance to say so far. And now, that chance—he—was gone, just like that. It was unreal, wrong, the words not quite there, just at the edge of comprehension, ready to rip her apart.An empty numbness dragged itself into her chest and she bit down on the scream or tears, sinking deeper into her seat. There was no way forward that didn't hurt. But she couldn't cry. It wasn't safe. She needed to hold herself up, it wasn't the time to break yet. Then, within the sharp ache for Max, the thought of Travis crept in; he was entangled within this too, as much a part of the nightmare as well as she was. Where Max was gone, Travis was still out there, caught within the web of all that had taken place, still fighting for his life. She didn't know what she'd say to him; but a flicker of need, of something unresolved, rose in her heart."When can I see him? Travis, I mean." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, the weight of her exhaustion and sadness sinking her deeper into her seat.Denis turned to her; his heart filled with much pity. "Once he's out of surgery, you'll be able to see him. And trust me, he's going to want to see you as soon as he wakes up. I can guarantee it."Laura nodded, her body lax as she stared out the window, her eyes glassy, heavy with concern, emptiness and sleeplessness. “Do you want to tell me what has happened?” he asked after a quiet pause.“No, not really.”He nodded. There would be time for the interrogation later and she obviously wasn’t good enough for a talk, so he left her rest. The soft hum of the engine was what one could hear inside the car, while occasionally some crackling of the police radio interrupted it. Laura sat staring out of the window; her eyes hardly noticed the rolling landscape outside: dense trees, shadows playing on the ground, when the sun pierced through the leaves. Colors, light—it was all so foreign after months spent in that red-lit cell, where daytime was an indistinct haze of shadows and monotony. Now outside that prison, the world seemed almost too bright, too alive.The sky was a deep endless blue, studded with white clouds. Trees streaked along in a blur of dark greens and browns. She pressed her forehead against the cool window, drinking it all in. Freedom. It was surreal. She could breathe fresh air, see the sky—but the weight in her chest wouldn't go away. Her stomach churned with a thought of Travis lying there, bleeding out. She was free, but he wasn't. He was still fighting for his life, and all she could do was sit in this car—helpless.The pine trees' scent filled the car through the open, cracked window with the faint smell of leather from the seat and the lingering metallic odor of blood on her hands. Laura stared at them again, flexing her fingers slightly to watch how the blood had dried and clung to her skin. Travis's blood. It was as if a part of him had followed her out of that house, staining her freedom with guilt. How was she to feel free when the man who saved her may never wake up? And it was her fault. She left him there. She could have forced him to go with her, but she just ran and let him behind.She shut her eyes, trying to block out the suffocating thoughts, but the memories surged back. The red light of the basement. The cold floor. The bars that trapped them in. The moment she had seen those empty cells again replayed in her mind—the gut-wrenching panic that Travis wasn't making it out alive. And now, outside, her body still felt caged.Denis looked at her and then finally broke the silence. "You okay?"Laura didn't answer at first. She opened her eyes again and blinked out into the scenery: green and brown and blue overhead—the colors of the world were jarring, not fitting right in the life she'd been stuck in for so long. "I'm fine," she whispered, not quite sure if this was actually the truth. She was free, but not yet. It hadn't felt like freedom, not with Travis still fighting for his life, with so much hanging, with so much left unfinished, with so much guilt.She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, curling in on herself as she stared out the window again. The road stretched on endlessly, winding through the woods, the trees closing in around them. But even as the car sped forward, Laura's mind remained trapped, spinning in circles, bound to that cell, to Travis, to the horror they'd just barely escaped.It felt like an eternity to finally reach the hospital. The minutes dragged along, each mile longer than the last, weighed down by her anxiety. She wanted nothing more than to see Travis, to know that he was okay. But until then, no amount of fresh air could make her feel safe, no single star in the sky bright enough for her.The hospital building appeared on the horizon, and Laura let out a shaking breath. It was almost over.
Almost.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Laura waited for hours, but waiting was something with which she'd become all too familiar. What wasn't as familiar was the blinding brightness of the hospital. The clear white walls and glaring fluorescent lights seared into her retina, sharp and clean—colors she hadn't seen in what felt like an eternity. Everything around her felt alien, as though she'd stepped into another world; the sterile blue scrubs of the nurses, the endless procession of doctors with their charts, the soft hum of machines monitoring the lives of patients in every room. Heart monitors softly beeped and doors sliding open and shut with a gentle swish. All so clinical, so vastly different from that gritty, dimly lit cage that had been her prison. It was a dizzying contrast.She blinked, disoriented by the blinding lights above her and the sensation of her skin burning under their intensity. Every time a nurse or doctor came in, their faces blurred together. She couldn't focus on the questions, couldn't make sense of the words. The noise, the sterile overwhelming environment made her feel like she was drowning.“Can you tell us where it hurts, Ms. Kearney?" a voice asked, yet it seemed far off, filtered through water.They didn't answer any of her questions, but they had plenty of their own. They examined her with that cold efficiency of professionals who have seen too much; their eyes flicking from the monitors to her, from the charts to her body. Laura winced as they prodded at her, their gloved hands cold and impersonal.Vital signs: normal. Oxygen saturation: stable at 98%. BP: slightly elevated, likely from stress. Then came the needles, the blood samples drawn quickly and unceremoniously, sterile alcohol wipes brushing her skin with an antiseptic smell that churned her stomach.They weighed her, measured her, examined her BMI, her hydration levels, and her vitamins. She stared blankly at the ceiling, feeling disconnected from the entire experience. Turns out, I gained weight, she thought distantly.The fact seemed absurd in the face of all she'd endured. She allowed them to squeeze her arm with the blood pressure cuff, listened to the drone as they cataloged the results. ‘Normal hydration’, one of the doctors remarked in surprise, as if expecting her to be half-dead from dehydration.She was physically healthy, though that also surprised them. Only her levels of vitamin D showed traces of deficiency because of the lack of sunlight during her captivity. But even that result seemed like an afterthought to the exhaustion that weighed upon her, clinging to her like a second skin.They wanted to check her for physical and sexual abuse, their latex gloves tracing over the pale bruises on her face, arms and shoulders."It's just a routine check," one of them had said, the clinical detachment in his voice making her feel like an object, not a person.Routine? It felt anything but. She'd been to hell and back, and they kept treating her as if she were just another case, just another number, another body to be processed. They wanted to pry, to see her more closely for other signs of trauma, but she refused. She wasn't some sort of specimen on a laboratory table. No more touching. No more invasions. She had had enough.It was a sterile environment and felt like a new kind of prison: the beeping of machines, crisp, white linens, and a sterile smell—all so too clean, too cold. It was not freedom; it was confinement in another form. And this time she was alone.When the door finally opened after hours of unknown faces, two familiar figures stepped into the room, a tide of emotion washed over her."Mom, Dad," she said softly; her voice caught, but she forced it steady, holding their gaze as they hurried toward her.Her mom reached her first, enveloping her in a tight hug. Laura stiffened for a moment, the warmth and familiarity a jarring contrast to the cold, harsh months she had endured. She let herself lean into it slowly, her mother's trembling hands running over her shoulders, her back, as if to reassure herself that Laura was really there. Her dad stood close behind, his face a storm of worry, exhaustion, and quiet devastation. But mostly; relief. The lines etched into his features weren't from age but from the fear of losing her—a fear he was still carrying, even now.It crushed her. The sight of them—all broken expressions, pain in their eyes, heaviness they bore—and all that. They, too, had suffered, and she could not bear to add to it. She bit down the urge to crumble into their arms and instead forced herself to sit straighter—to be the version of herself they needed to see; strong, intact, whole.She smiled weakly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m okay,” she said, though the words felt hollow in her chest. “I’m really okay.”Her mom cupped her face, her fingers trembling. “You’re with us now, Laura. You’re safe.”Laura nodded; her throat tight. Safe. The word sounded strange, foreign, like it belonged to someone else. She didn't feel safe, not yet. The hospital walls felt too thin, the air too sterile, too exposed. But she couldn't let them see that. They needed her to be okay, to be strong.Her father stood beside her, his hand warm and steady on her shoulder, but the sight of his trembling lip nearly undid her. He didn't cry—he was holding himself together, just as she was—but the weight of his grief was palpable. She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze, her voice light, almost teasing. "I guess I really know how to give you guys a scare, huh?"Her mom gave a soft, trembling laugh as she brushed Laura's hair back like when she was a little girl. "You always have."Laura managed a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. She told them bits and pieces, just enough to reassure them that she was here, alive. But she left out the worst parts—the confrontations, the constant fear, the Hackett's threats, the memories of Max and Travis raw and too close to the surface. Her heart ached to share it—to let it out—but she couldn't. Not now. She wasn't safe enough to break.Not yet.Travis wasn't here, and the absence felt like a wound, an ache she hadn't expected to feel so deeplyThe thought preyed upon her, tugging at the fragile calm she was trying to piece together. She missed him so desperately, more than words could say. Without him, the world seemed too big, too unbalanced, and the weight of that loss squeezed her chest, stifling. But she kept her face smooth, her tone even, as her parents leaned in, holding her like she was the most fragile thing in the world.And for their sake, she was strong.Hours had passed when a nurse reappeared at the door and softly encouraged her parents to leave so Laura could rest. They promised to return the following morning, but when the door shut behind them, another new wave of anxiety clobbered her."How is Travis Hackett?" Laura asked.The nurse gave her a soft, sympathetic smile. "He was admitted to the hospital a couple of hours ago, he has been in surgery for the last hour. He is a strong one, hun.""When can I see him?" Her voice cracked with emotion as her chest tightened.The nurse hesitated; her eyes flicked to the door for a second, like expecting somebody there. "I'll let you know when he's stable, okay?”Laura nodded weakly, though it wasn't an answer she needed. The useless silence of a hospital room closed down upon her like a smothering blanket. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead was like an incessant buzz, the soft beeping of machines maddening. Her pillow was too soft, her bed too comfortable. It was too loud and too quiet at the same time. Too overwhelming and yet too empty. There wasn't a person there to talk to, not a kind hand to hold or breathing to hear. She felt alone.What felt like an eternity later, she threw off the covers and then stumbled toward the bathroom. The cold tiles felt harsh against her bare feet as she stepped into the shower, cranking the water as hot as it would go. The scalding spray hit her skin like needles, but that wasn't enough. It's never enough to wash away the memories. She scrubbed and scrubbed at skin that was soon raw, the steam filling the small bathroom, fogging the mirror. The fear, the helplessness, the months of feeling like a prisoner—she scrubbed it all away.It wasn't until she finally turned the water off that she stood in front of the mirror, wiping at the condensation to reveal her reflection. Her face was pale, thinner than she remembered; her eyes were sunken with exhaustion. There was a big scratch on her cheek from when Travis...— when Travis protected her. Bruises now faint on her arms and shoulders, they still stood as a reminder of that last confrontation. Her hands shook as she tried to comb out her tangled hair, to gain some kind of control over her own body. And even with all that, she could not sleep. The quietness gnawed at her. The sterile walls felt like they were closing in.She couldn't stay in that room any longer.Barefoot, in the thin gown of the hospital, she wandered the halls until she found herself in front of the doors to the surgery ward. She leaned her hand against the cold metal, her palm flat as if willing it to open for her, to let her inside.Travis was beyond that door. He was fighting for his life on the other side of it.Cold unyielding metal, faintly vibrating with the hum of electricity, yet it refused to open. It refused to give her what she wanted. The doors didn't open, acting as a barrier between her and the one person who made her feel safe. He had been her steady point in an unyielding storm.And now, she was cut off from him. Like standing on a glass looking at the dark deep abyss beneath her.She shut her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door. She'd learned patience in that cage. She'd learned to wait. But that waiting was impossible to bear now. She wasn't in the red room anymore, but the sensation felt the same. The trap was still there—she was just in a different kind of prison. Different kind of jailers. Different rules. Different color of light.Patience, she reminded herself. Wait.It sounded like Travis' voice.This time, when the door opened, she wouldn't escape. It would be for her to run towards him, toward Travis Hackett.She turned and walked back towards her room. She lay in bed, pulling the blanket tightly around her as she stared up at the ceiling. The silence was suffocating. The emptiness of that room gnawed at her. Tomorrow, though—she would see him. Laura didn't remember sleeping, but she awoke with a jolt, like being struck by lightning. After months of oppressive, dim red light, the sterile white hospital walls disoriented her. Her breath caught in her throat, and panic bubbled until the nurse's voice dragged her back from the haze."Hello, dear, how are you feeling today?" the nurse asked softly.Laura blinked, trying to shake the disorientation. "What time is it?" she croaked."Oh, just past ten. You needed the—""Is he awake?" Laura exclaimed, racing heart."Who?""Travis Hackett. Is he awake?""I'm not sure. He's in a different wing, recovering from surgery. He probably is, but—"Laura was already ripping the blankets off and bolting off the bed."Hey!" The nurse called after her, but Laura ignored her, sprinting down the hall, the hospital gown billowing around her legs. People turned to stare, some whispering, but Laura didn't care. Her mind was singularly focused.She reached the nurse's station, panting, her voice shaking as she demanded, "Travis Hackett."The nurse blinked in surprise. "Room 246, but he's—"Laura didn't wait to hear the rest. She caught something about 'interrogated by the police' as she darted toward his room, adrenaline fueling her every step. Her pulse hammered in her ears, blocking out the sounds of the bustling hospital. Nothing else mattered. She jerked the door open—the force of it sent rattling reverberations against the wall. Her eyes skimmed the space as her heart raced: three policemen were standing around Travis's bed, talking casually, Denis Whitlock among them. He nodded at her, but she didn't even process it.Her gaze locked on Travis, and the rest of the world fell away.He looked tired, worn to the bone; his pale face framed by the scruffier salt-and-pepper beard. His body, though weak, seemed unbroken, resting in the sterile safety of this new white environment. No red. No blood. No pain. He was alive. Relief crashed over her like a wave. Her knees felt weak, and her breath caught in her throat. She stepped closer, her voice breaking. "Travis."His eyes flickered open, out of focus for a second, before his gaze settled on hers. A weak, sleepy smile tugged at his lips, the drugs deadening his expression but not the gleam of recognition in his eyes. Laura couldn’t hold back. She crossed the room in an instant, leaning down and throwing her arms around him, careful not to press too hard against his injuries. She clung to him, her head against his chest, listening to the faint rhythm of his heartbeat.“You’re okay,” she whispered, her voice cracking as the tears she hadn’t let fall began to sting her eyes. “You’re okay.”Travis’s voice was soft, groggy. “You too.” His arm shifted, his hand resting weakly against her back. “Knew you’d… make it.”"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry I left you—""Shhh, we are alright." For a moment, everything felt right. The chaos of the past weeks, the terror and grief—it all melted away. She was safe. He was safe. They had made it out alive, against impossible odds.But then her relief cracked.Her gaze dropped, and she pulled back slightly. Her stomach twisted and she froze after what she saw. Travis' left hand was cuffed to the rail of the bed.Her heart skipped a bit, and the warmth in her chest turned to ice. "What the fuck?" she spat, wheeling toward the cops, her voice rising furiously. "What is this?!"The officers regarded her with expressions ranging from embarrassment to misery. But Laura's eyes blazed, her body shaking. The relief that had flooded her moments before dissolved, replaced by a sudden, scorching wave of rage.Denis raised his hands. "He asked us to do it—”"What?!" Laura spun to Travis, her eyes afire with indignation. "What the hell, Travis?!""Laura—" he started, his voice low and weary, but she was already marching back toward Denis."Explain!" she demanded, her patience wearing thin. She wasn't going to get anything out of Travis in this state anyway."He hasn't made an official statement yet," Denis started carefully, "because of the drugs from surgery there hasn't been enough time to—" he cut himself when Laura let out an exasperated sigh, her patience wearing thin. "But as soon as he woke up, he insisted we cuff him and place him under arrest. We are not even part of the case, but he wouldn’t shut up about it."Laura whirled to Travis. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She spun back to Denis. "Uncuff him, right now!""Laura, stop," Travis repeated, this time with more steel. "I deserve this.""Deserve what?" Laura exclaimed. "What are they charging you with?!"Travis faced her, the weight of his guilt hanging between them. "Kidnapping… tampering with evidence… sexual assau—”Before she could stop herself, Laura's hand lashed out and slapped him hard across the face. Instinctively the police stepped forward, ready to grab her, but Travis barked out, "Do NOT touch her!”Everyone was paralyzed with shock. Travis' eyes were wild, brimming with raw emotion, angst, and anger. His hand clutched at his side, warding off the fresh wound, but his tone softened at the realization that he had snapped. "Do not touch her, please —just let her be. I'm too drugged to feel it."Laura was shaking, her chest heaving. "Tell them to uncuff you," she ordered, her voice shaking with emotion. "You're not using me because you have a guilt complex. I will have none of it.""Laura—" he started, his voice soft, but she cut him off.“Tell them to uncuff you, right now!" Her voice cracked, anger and desperation pouring out. "You didn't rape me, and you damn well know it! You saved my fucking life, Travis!""Laura, you're traumatized. You're suffering from Stockholm synd—"Another slap. Harder this time. The cops flinched but stayed put.“Stockholm syndrome? Really?!?" Laura's voice was escalating. "Does this look like Stockholm syndrome to you?!" The fire in her soul finally rose to the surface, her held-back and damned-up tears now blurring her vision. "Is beating your ass a side effect of Stockholm syndrome now? You promised me, Travis. You fucking promised!”Travis winced, as though the words cut more deeply than the slap. "I tried to rape you," he whispered, low and thick with shame. "I did.""No. Your family wanted you to, and you refused. You got shot protecting me! You're not the monster here. They are." Laura wheeled on her heel to face the officers once more. "Take. Them. Off. Now.”One of the officers hedged. "Ms. Kearney, you refused a medical exam, and your judgment is impaired due to trauma.”Laura's eyes sliced dangerously as she turned to Denis, who appeared to be in charge of that team in the time being. "If I take the damn exam, will you uncuff him? If I can prove it's not true, you can't trust him with whatever else he told you. You said so, he is still up his ass from the drugs."Denis faltered, looking at Travis, who lay staring upward, resigned. He shrugged. "If you come out clean, then yes."Laura nodded, her tone abruptly soft, but piercing. "Then do it. I'll call the nurse." She paused in the doorway, looking back at Travis—anger suddenly overwhelmed with relief. "I'm glad you're okay. I'll be back."She turned and exited the room, her voice still echoing down the hall from where she called out, "Somebody come check my fucking vagina!"The officers winced in unison. Denis whistled, raising his eyebrows. "Man…"Travis was exhausted; he shook his head with a tired smirk. "Yeah. Try dealing with that for two months straight sharing a tin can room."Denis moved closer and, without a moment's hesitation, he unlocked the handcuffs. Without the tiniest shade of doubt, his actions showed that Laura's words had carried undeniable truth in them. Denis was not quite so convinced that Travis wasn't acting out of his feelings of guilt and powerlessness, more that any real truth behind his words.Travis looked around at his team and nodded slightly; there was a knowing glance between them as they uttered quiet goodbyes, knowing this was now beyond their hands. It was a case that had rapidly escalated after Jedediah Hackett's confession the previous night—all kept in absolute confidentiality—and they had been completely pulled from the investigation. It was given over to higher authority than state police, but who exactly in the new phase of the investigation remained a little fuzzy this early. Laura went back to her room, her mind racing. She called for a nurse and requested a complete physical examination, making it clear the results were to be forwarded to whoever was heading up this investigation. She needed to stay a step ahead, keep her wits about her, but her mind continued to wander back to Travis. The not knowing gnawed at her. But before she had time to go and check on him after her test, her parents arrived, their faces etched with worry. Her heart had lightened for that instant, comforted in their presence.“We brought some of your things," her mom, Hannah, said softly, setting a small bag on the chair beside the bed. "But… we weren't allowed to bring any electronics. The police said it's protocol." The apologetic tone of her mom's voice trailed off as she searched Laura's face for a response.Laura said nothing for a couple of moments; her brow furrowed. "Why? What for?”"Apparently, they don't want you seeing certain news or anything that could affect your statement," her mom explained. "They said it was for your own protection."Laura sighed, frustration prickling at her. She felt caged all over again. "Mom, I'm fine. Give me your phone, at least."Her mother hesitated, wringing her hands nervously in her lap. "I don't know if that's a good idea, sweetheart.”"Please," Laura insisted, her voice shaking a little. "I gotta know what's going on. I'm not going to sit here in the dark. I promise I will not talk with anybody, I just want to know what they have found so far."Her mother exchanged a look with her dad, and he nodded once before reaching into her pocket. He handed Laura her phone grudgingly. Laura took it—her fingers shaking a little—and started typing in as she opened the browser and typed "Hackett's Quarry news."As the headlines popped onto the screen, her heart sank. Story after surreal story.
"The Hackett Family Tragedy Unfolds."
"Disappearance of Counselors Leads to Deadly Discovery."
"Chris Hackett Dead: Were the Hacketts Hiding a Dark Secret?"
The whole world knew about them.Her chest was constricting as she scrolled further. "Travis Hackett and Laura Kearney Found Alive—details classified." The words blurred in front of her, constricting in her throat. There were so many accusations—people stating Travis was a co-conspirator, saying he was in on the whole thing—where others went so far as to call him a hero, one who had risked all for saving her. The debate was brutal, people fighting over every tiny detail.Her stomach twisted. The comments were filled with conspiracy theories and vitriol. Some blamed everything on the Sheriff and police brutality, demanding that he be arrested; others believed him to be innocent. It was enough to make her head spin."Look at this." She showed the screen to her mother, her voice thick with frustration. "They're blaming him. They have no idea what he's been through, what his family did to him."Her mom laid a hand on her arm and gave it a soft squeeze. "There's always going to be people who don't understand the full picture. But you know the truth, Laura. You just gotta hold onto that.”Her thumbs continued to scroll, but then another headline caught her eye—a GoFundMe page. It was entitled "Save Hackett's Quarry: Restore the Camp!" Her breath stuck in the back of her throat as she saw the tiny donation total: just 2,000 dollars. Mostly local donors. Apparently, there were some people who wished to preserve the camp no matter what. Probably people in North Kill known to the family and interested in the tourism the camp brought to their small town. There was even another page where they were trying to create a commemorative plate with the name of the victims. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "That's what they care about? After all this time, after everything that's happened to us, and they're still trying to save that place?"Her mother shifted uncomfortably. "People have their reasons, I guess. Not everyone knows the truth."Laura swallowed hard, the lump welling up in the back of her throat as her eyes drifted down to the news about the Quarry. She had no idea what the world thought of them at this point—whether villains or survivors—but she knew what the truth was. A knock on the door broke her concentration, and her father stood to answer it. He spoke with a man outside, his voice low and indistinct, clearly visible through the glass door. Laura looked over at her mother, who shrugged with uncertainty."Is that our lawyer?" Laura asked, confused.Her mom hesitated. "I don't think so… maybe someone from the police? We've been in contact with them, but I'm not sure who they have sent today.”Her father was back this time trailed by a tall man in a dark suit, his expressionless yet professional face ending with a well-combed mane of dark hair, his face sharp and clean-shaven. He stood by the door, his hands casually folded in front of his body."Hello, Mrs. and Ms. Kearney," he began, his voice even, yet commanding. "I am Agent Lewis, part of the team investigating the incident at Hackett's Quarry.”"You're not a cop," Laura said matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't about to be tricked by a stranger in a suit.Agent Lewis smiled weakly. "No, I'm with the FBI. Given the scope of the investigation—a potential mass murder—we've taken over from the local authorities. It's a bit bigger than they can handle.""A bit too small for the FBI, too."He smiled back and replied, "I'm just an employee, ma'am. I'm going where I'm told."Laura nodded, still wary. Alarm bells ringing in her mind."We'd like to conduct a psychological evaluation, followed by a brief interrogation—just to touch base. This will help us understand what happened and assess your mental state after such a traumatic event. It'll also help build a clearer picture of the case from your point of view."Laura laughed mockingly. "A hillbilly family kidnapped me and wanted to include me into their family tree without my consent," she retorted bitterly. The agent's lips curled a little, though he tried to compose himself."We still have to go through that mental evaluation first," he said in a soft but firm tone. "It is crucial for the investigation."Laura was not so sure, and after throwing her parents a glance, started speaking. "Will it take long?”Agent Lewis leant slightly. "As long as you need. At this time, Dr. Summers, the psychiatrist, is with Sheriff Hackett. Once you feel ready, we will do this at your own pace."The mention of Travis's name and Laura's interest perked up. "He's awake?" she asked. Her voice gave away her concern.“He's stable but needs rest. He had a rough time in surgery, but he's recovering." The agent's voice softened, it was almost soothing. "We're trying not to overwhelm him, but your statements are crucial for us to move forward with the investigation and seek justice—for everyone." He turned to the door, ready to say his goodbyes. Laura bit her lip, her fingers clenching on the blanket wrapped around her. "Can I see him before the interrogation?”The agent halted mid-step, turning to her; his eyes were apologetic, yet firm. "I'm sorry, Ms. Kearney. You can't see him until the full statement is done. It's protocol."The words hit like a gut punch, the reality of it drawing her back to the sterile walls, the empty quiet of the hospital. Travis had been her only anchor in that place, her only company. Her breath hitched, though she forced herself to keep calm, pressing the frustration down even as her pulse hammered in her throat. She didn't want to appear weak in front of this person, didn't want them to think she was untestable, but the tightness in her chest just wouldn't quit."Look," she said, her voice clipped and unsteady despite the effort. "You don't get it. I need to see him."The agent's gaze softened slightly, yet his posture remained firm. "I understand, and I can see how important this is to you," he said. "But until the statement is done, it's out of my hands."She clenched her fists into the fabric of the blanket, biting back a more visceral reaction. Another cage, another rule, another wall standing between her and whatever freedom they'd promised her. In light of everything they'd just been through, it cut deeper than she might have expected that protocol would still be another rule keeping them apart. For Laura, Travis's absence was like a rupture, an unexpected loss leaving her disorientated and raw. The days that they had spent together in captivity had been anything but ordinary; they'd shared not only close quarters, but an intimacy forged in mutual survival and guilt. Travis was her only constant in that otherwise hostile and unpredictable environment, a familiar, steady presence in a nightmare of isolation. But even as she knew she was 'free', in a very irrational way, some part of her felt trapped without him: haunted by quiet conversations, mutual unspoken understanding, and moments they leaned on each other when everything else fell apart.She was used to depending on him, as much as she resented that dependency. He had understood her in ways nobody else could, shared memories of terrors that no one else could dream. In that dark, narrow cell, he'd been her anchor, his reluctant confidant, the only other person who knew the depth of her grief and her anger. The only person who cared about her, who made her days lighter, more colorful under the red light, less suffocating. Without him, she felt a part of herself break—as if some essential part of her had been taken away. It wasn't just his physical presence that had disappeared; it was the unspoken comfort he brought, the steady grounding in a world that felt constantly on the brink of chaos. It felt as if part of her brain had been ripped out—the part of her brain that could begin to deal with what they had lived through.The thought that she might never lay eyes on him again unnerved her. The outside world, which she'd longed to get back to, seemed pointless and uncaring. Travis had become a normality she hadn't invited into her life but couldn't contemplate losing. The loss of him—his quiet strength, unexpected kindness—leaved her untethered, exposed. She wasn't sure if she missed him or the version of herself that had emerged through their shared ordeal, but she felt his absence deeply, painfully, as if it marked the difference between freedom and solitude.In many ways, she hadn't realized just how much she'd needed him until he was gone.She fixed him with a fierce, steady look, every ounce of her will pouring into her words. "There's nothing I could say in that statement that changes what I need right now," she said coldly. "I need to see him. You go and talk to your team, tell them whatever you need to get me and Sheriff Hackett through whatever hoops you need. But you need to make it happen."The agent hesitated and just studied her. "Today we begin psychiatric evaluations, as well as your first statement." He said that cautiously, weighing each word. "I'll make sure you get to see him—under supervised conditions, for now. But you'll see him."She felt the tightness in her chest loosen somewhat, the relief as sharp as her annoyance at the conditions. "Supervised," she spat, the word bitter in her mouth. "I don't want to be watched like some criminal."The agent was calm; his voice was even, knowing full well he had to tread carefully. "Just for a while, until everything is cleared. It’s—”“Protocol.” She finished his sentence, annoyed. Laura bit her lip hard, her heart still racing, her anger pulsing beneath the surface. She hated this. She hated all of it—the rules, the procedures, the way they kept telling her she was free and safe but still a prisoner, still under protocols and rules, under a jailor’s orders. But as her chest began to loosen, and the panic slowly ebbed, she knew she had no choice. Again."Fine," she growled low and fiercely. "But you make sure it happens."The agent slowly nodded, relief softening his features. "I will. I'll make sure it happens today."Glaring at him with her heart still pounding in her chest, Laura nodded. She hated every second of this, but for now, she had to grit and accept it. She had to see Travis. If it meant swallowing her pride as this was the only way, then she'd do just that."Alright," she said quietly, defeated. "If it will speed things along, I will do the interview today.""That would help, yes," Lewis replied as his smile returned. "We will book an appointment for the full statement in a couple of days and then you'll be free to leave the hospital if you prefer, though you'll need to stay in the state for the time being."Laura nodded. "That's alright. Veterinary school is in New York anyway.""Great." He glowed, genuinely thrilled that she was being cooperative. "Dr. Summers will see you soon for the psych evaluation. It is better if you are alone with her for private reasons, but you can talk to her if you need the presence of one of your parents. We might be able to oblige."Her father stepped in, "That's alright. We'll wait in the waiting room.”“One more thing," Lewis said, turning to go. "It would be best if you avoided using any electronics or social media during the investigation," he nodded at the phone in her lap. "I apologize, it's just protocol."Laura frowned. "I needed to contact the vet school to tell them I was going to be late.”"They have been contacted," he said. "You should be able to get back to your studies soon, by the end of the week, I hope."Laura's curiosity got the best of her as he stood and prepared to leave. "What about the Hacketts?" she asked.Agent Lewis stopped again in the doorway. "Jedediah Hackett gave his statement. Constance Hackett is another subject, she's catatonic. We have reason to believe she is the one who shot Sheriff Hackett. She's being treated to see if we can get a statement out of her, but it seems that it has been way too much for her. We haven't been able to reach her.""And Bobby?" Laura asked softly, her throat tight."Robert Hackett was brought in yesterday. He'll be questioned soon, after a medical exam.""He helped us," she whispered, her voice quivering. "He wasn't perfect, but he helped us escape, he fed us and was kind to me. He even disobeyed his family when they asked him to hurt me—"The agent raised his hand, silencing her. "We can discuss that later during your statement."Laura swallowed hard, nodding. "Alright. But please— don't—""Don't worry, he will be treated with respect. Thank you, Ms. Kearney. Mr. and Mrs. Kearney." Making one final nod, Agent Lewis left the room, leaving Laura to the growing quiet silence surrounded by her parents.Having reflected upon the chaos unfolding, Laura steeled herself to receive the blows that were to follow. Knowing full well the interrogation would be brutal, another test of her resilience, she wasn't ready for the weight of the questions waiting for her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Her parents stayed with her for as long as they could, just talking, enjoying the silence when needed too. Laura wanted them to stay longer. The room was quieter than Laura expected. Too quiet. She'd grown used to the sounds of the cellar room—the breathing of another human, the distant echoes from the floors above, the steps in the concrete, the humming of the electric red light. Here, it was sterile, smothering in its silence. Even the ticking of a wall clock felt intrusive, making time as though it had any meaning in a hospital room. So she begged her parents to stay with her, not that it was needed because they seemed to never want to leave her alone again either. But there was a soft knock at the door early in the afternoon, right after she received her lunch tray with hospital food. "Good afternoon, I'm Dr. Summers, I'm the psychiatrist that's going to do the mental evaluation," a woman said from the doorframe. She was wearing a business suit with a skirt, brown welcoming colors with a white shirt. Her hair was shoulder length, straight and black like coal. “Is this a good time?”“Yeah,” she answered with a bit of more force than expected. She needed to get this over. Closing the door softly behind her, the doctor stepped in. "I just wanted to come by, see how you're doing, and chat for a bit if that's okay?"Laura hesitated, eyeing the woman with suspicion and exhaustion. She was tired, emotionally drained, and wasn't so sure she had the energy to engage in what would transpire with the psychiatrist. But there was something about Dr. Summer that was disarming, her smile inviting without being too much."I guess," Laura said, seeming to be far away to her own ears. Her parents got up and shook the doctors' hands. They came close to Laura, kissed her goodbye, and left the room.Dr. Summers sat opposite Laura, her back straight. She had a small blank briefcase from where she grabbed a notepad that balanced on her knee. The lighting was soft, muted, designed to put patients at their ease. To Laura, the room's serenity felt like a hollow joke, a flimsy barrier against chaos swirling inside her head."Laura—Can I call you Laura? — we'll start slow," Dr. Summers said softly, adjusting her glasses as she uncapped her pen—a red pen. Instantly, Laura's eyes went to it. Red. The color hit her like a gut punch. Red, like the basement. Red, like the light which had bathed her while she was trapped behind those bars. Her chest tightened. Her breath hitched; her mind spiraled."We don't have to rush into anything. I'm just here to help you talk through what you're ready to share." The doctor said, misunderstanding her obvious discomfort.Laura nodded; the muscles still tense. The room was quiet. The low hum of air conditioning was a distant murmur that Laura barely registered. She sat on the hospital bed, hands crawling at the sheets with white-bone knuckles. The too-crisp white sheets tucked around her felt unnatural, sterile, a far cry from the grimy, oppressive confinement she'd grown accustomed to.Across from her, Dr. Summers was scribbling something down—the motions of her hand neat and quick, her face was a mask of calm yet watching carefully, like trying to peel the layers that constituted Laura Kearney. Professional, sympathetic even, yet there was something beneath the surface; a calculated edge.“How are you feeling today, Laura?" she asked softly, with an underpinning of urgency, like testing waters for the right moment to dive deeper.Laura blinked, her head reeling to catch up with the juxtaposition between where she was now and where she had been. How could she even begin to feel? How could she even begin to explain this flood of emotions that threatened to drown her?“I'm okay," she said, voice steady. It wasn't what the psychiatrist had looked for, but it was the best she could manage at this moment in time. But it wasn't okay. None of this felt okay. This room was too bright, too clean, too safe—it shouldn't feel safe. Not without Travis. Not without him being here with her.Dr. Summers nodded, her eyes intent on Laura as she jotted down another note. "It's understandable. You have been through an extraordinary ordeal. It can take time to adjust.”Her tone had been soft, but there was something clinical in the way she said it, as though Laura's response had been a specimen she'd dissected, parsing out useful details. She folded her hands over the notepad, the red pen positioned between her fingers while questions stayed veiled behind her eyes.“Let's take a moment to focus on the present," her voice soothing, but almost too much so, as though she read from a well-worn script. "You're here now, in the hospital. You're safe. Can you tell me what's happening in your body right now? How does it feel?”Laura swallowed hard, trying to ground herself, but that tightness in her chest refused to dissipate. "My shoulders ache," she said. "And— and my head. It's like everything's—too tight."Dr. Summers nodded, jotting down a few more notes as her eyes flickered between Laura and the paper. "That's normal after such prolonged stress. Your body is still carrying the weight of what happened. It'll take time for that tension to release. How about your breathing?" Dr Summers asked, the voice still soft, but there was now a shift in her tone, a subtle sharpening. "Is it restricted? Shallow?”Laura frowned. "It's tight," she said. "Like I can't get a full breath."Dr. Summers leaned forward just a little, her eyes narrowing by about a millimeter. "That's common post-trauma. Your body is still keyed up, like it's waiting for the other shoe to drop. But you're safe now, Laura. You're out of there.”The way she phrased it, Laura observed, carried a curious weight with it—as if Dr. Summers were trying to impress upon her that she was out. But out of what? The cage, yes. It was as if there was something more the doctor was looking for.“Would you like to try a grounding exercise?" asked Dr. Summers. "It may help you feel more connected to the present. Sometimes when we go through something extreme, our mind pulls us back into that place. But it is so important to remember you are not there anymore.”Laura slowly nodded, knowing that might not help, but desperate enough at the moment to do just about anything for an instant to help dissuade this suffocating tension in her chest. "Okay," she whispered.Dr. Summers smiled—no, not quite, it didn't reach her eyes—and laid her notepad aside. Her body language remained calm and open, but an underlying intensity seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. "Let's start with your hands. Can you feel the fabric of the sheets beneath your fingers? Focus on that sensation.”Laura pressed the palms of her hands down, feeling the smooth fabric beneath. Soft, cool, nothing like the rough old material she'd been forced to endure in captivity. She concentrated on the sensation, letting it pull her attention away from the tightness in her chest.“Now, press your feet into the mattress," Dr. Summers said again, her tone not changing a note. "Feel the ground beneath them. You're grounded here. You're not in that place anymore."Laura did just what she was told, pressing her feet against the mattress, the sensation grounding her just a little more. It was real, unmoving—a reminder that she wasn't in that basement, trapped in that red-lit nightmare.Dr. Summers was watching her closely, her eyes flicking over Laura's body as if taking a mental note. "Good," she said softly. "You are doing great. This is something you can practice whenever things start to feel overwhelming. It helps to bring you back to the present, to remind you where you are.”Laura nodded again, her fingers loosening slightly from the grip they had on the sheets. The weight in her chest was still there, but it had eased just a little. Dr. Summers seemed to notice the shift, but rather than offering further reassurance, she picked up her notepad again.The notepad and that fucking red pen. “Now, Laura," she said, her tone cautious and measured. "I want to make sure you feel in control of what comes next. The police are going to want to interview you, but only when you're ready. This assessment is to make sure you are feeling stable enough for that conversation.”Laura's heart was somersaulting. Just the thought of talking to the police—of reliving it all—made her stomach roil. Yet she knew she had to do this; she knew she had to speak. For Max. For Ryan. For so many faces she remembers from the summer camp. For Travis. For herself."I don't know if I'm ready," she said, her voice shaking. "But I know I have to.”Dr. Summers nodded, observant, her eyes calculating. "That's very brave of you, Laura. We will go with it step by step. You are in control regarding how much you share. At any time during the session that gets too much, we can stop.” The words were kind, but there was a purpose running beneath them. Something Laura couldn't quite put her finger on but knew. Something about Dr. Summers was too smooth, too prepared. She wasn't here to help; she was here for something else.Laura's fingers tightened anew into the sheets. She nodded.The space hummed with the soft, aseptic buzz of the hospital around them. Yet the weight of this conversation was crushing, pressing upon her as if it would take every breath Laura had. Dr. Summers sat forward, eyes sharp, cool and professional yet practiced. "You have been very strong through all this, you're the only survivor of something—heartbreaking." Her tone was assuredly compassionate yet with a calculated edge. "I can't even imagine how hard it must be to carry that weight—being the only one who made it out."Laura's jaw clenched, her eyes darkening as she gripped the sheets tighter, balling her fists in the fabric. "I'm not the only one," she muttered. Her voice was a little firmer that time. "Travis is a survivor too."Dr. Summers raised an eyebrow; her practiced smile never wavered, but Laura caught the slight flicker of interest in her eyes. "Of course, you're right. I didn't mean to suggest otherwise. But Mr. Hackett— he's part of a complicated story, isn't he?" She leaned in slightly, the tone still soft, almost coaxing. "His family—they were deeply involved, weren't they? That must make things—complicated for you."Laura's chest constricted; a bitter edge crept into her tone. "He didn't want me there. He did all he could to help me," she bit out, defensive. She wasn't going to let anyone twist Travis's actions—not when his guilt weighed heavy enough on her."I believe you," Dr. Summers said, an understanding expression on her face, though deeper, there seemed to be an undercurrent. "And I can only imagine how confusing it must have been for you. Being held hostage, yet at the same time feeling protected. It had to be difficult to balance those two feelings against each other." She leaned forward in her chair, jotting a note down. "Can you describe to me what it was like? You know, being down there, locked in that basement— and your interactions with Mr. Hackett?"“Sheriff Hackett,” Laura corrected, looking at her intently. Mr. Hackett sounded wrong. “Yes, forgive me, Sheriff Hackett.”Laura's breath caught, and she pulled the blanket closer, as if it might protect her from the line of questioning. She didn't like where this was going. "It was hard," Laura said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "I was stuck down there for what felt like forever. But Travis wasn't like the rest of his family. He kept me safe."Dr. Summers nodded, her eyes intent but soft. "It sounds like he cared about you in some way," she said, her tone soft yet probing. "But even so, being locked up for so long—it must have been difficult. Did you ever feel conflicted? About Sheriff Hackett, I mean?"Laura squirmed uncomfortably, her gaze darting toward the window—anything to get away from the soul-searching gaze of Dr. Summers. "He saved me," she said sharply. "That's all that matters.""Of course," Dr. Summers calmly and quietly responded, and somehow, although she should have, the evenness in his tone and expression did not reassure her. Behind her words, heated words were cloaked by the harmless expression on her face. "But it is okay to feel conflicted. It is normal, after all that has happened. Sometimes even when someone does not mean to, the situation itself creates emotional wounds.”Laura swallowed hard, her throat constricting as memories of those months in captivity flashed through her mind. The bars. The isolation. The uncertainty. "He didn't hurt me," Laura said softly, trying to get the rawness from her voice. "Travis didn't do anything to hurt me."Dr. Summers watched her for a moment, her expression unreadable. "I understand that, Laura. And that's important. But sometimes trauma affects us in ways we don't fully realize. It can be hard to process, especially when the lines get blurred between captor and protector. I understand it must have been hard for you when he had to follow his family's orders.”Laura's face flamed red with anger and her eyes blazed as the memory flashed before her. She, quite obviously, had spoken with Travis first and he would have given her his own guilty statement of what he had to do for her to stay alive. "He didn't—""It's all right," Dr. Summers soothed, her hand up to placate her gently. "What I mean is—that moment, it must have been so terrifying for you. Feeling like he was actually going to do what his family wanted. But he didn't go through with it, did he?"Laura's breath hitched, her chest tight with the weight of the memory. "He didn't."Dr. Summers nodded, an understanding expression softening her features as if to coax Laura into a place of contemplation. That fucking red pen. "It's okay to feel confused, or even angry for what happened."Laura's fists clenched tighter around the sheets. "I wasn't angry at him," she spat. "I was angry at his family. His parents—Jedediah, Constance—they were the ones who did this. Not him."Dr. Summers nodded slightly, making yet another mental note. "That must have been incredibly hard—dealing with his family, not knowing what they were planning for you in the future. It is normal to feel the fear, the anger, the helplessness of a situation like that." She paused, allowing the weight of the conversation to hang between them, before continuing. "Can you tell me about those moments with them? Were you afraid for your life?”Laura's stomach twisted and bile rose in her throat with the memory of Constance's stare, cold and calculating, Jedediah looming. She shivered; her voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared. Constance— she was waiting for me to—"That damn red pen.Dr. Summers stopped at the change in Laura's emotion. Her gaze dropped to the pen in her hand, and her expression turned grim.Laura tightened her fingers around the sheets as she tried to focus on the real world, but the red pen colored her mind. Her voice cracked, her gaze strayed away. An opportunity that the doctor took to put the red pen aside in an inside pocket on her suit, replacing it with a black one in a swift movement.She waited in silence, looking at Laura with patience but a notch of something cold on her eyes. Then she leaned forward slightly, her expression encouraging Laura to continue.Laura's breath caught, her heart pounding in her chest as the memories came tumbling forward: The basement. The pressure. The red light.Dr. Summers exhaled and let her eyes drop to the notepad in her lap, then back up to Laura again. "It's okay," she said softly. "You're safe now. They can't hurt you anymore." Yet, within was an almost hidden undertone. Laura nodded, her fingers digging into the blanket, but the doctor wasn't through yet."And what about Sheriff Hacketts's brother, Robert?" Dr. Summers asked, her tone deceptively calm, as if she were guiding the discussion into some unexplored wilderness, separating her from the well noticed trigger that Constance was. "He was involved too, wasn't he? How do you feel about him now?"Laura hesitated, swallowing hard as her mind was flooded by memories of Bobby—his hulking figure, his silence, the strange softness behind his eyes. "Bobby's— different," she said finally, her voice low. "He wasn't like the rest of them. Not really."Dr. Summers raised an eyebrow. Her pen poised over the notepad, "Different, how?”Laura looked down, her fingers nervously twisting the blanket in her lap. "He's special,” she said repeating what Travis has told her about his brother. “I don't think he really understood what was happening. He was just—following orders. But he wasn't cruel. Not like the others. He tried to help us. He brought food, gave us books, even games to keep us from going crazy down there. Without Bobby, I don't know how we would've survived."Dr. Summers listened intently; her gaze unflinching. "So, in a way, Robert Hackett was a protector too," she said slowly, watching Laura's reaction.Laura shook her head slightly. Her voice was bitter. "He helped us escape in the end. But—he was still part of it. I don't hate him, but I can't forgive him either. Not fully. I will still fight for him to have a fair trial, not because I want him punished but I want for him to get the help he needs so he is not controlled by fucked up people ever again. He is a good man."Dr. Summers nodded slowly, her face thoughtful. "It sounds like you have very complicated feelings about Robert Hackett, and that is perfectly natural. He was part of something terrible but also tried to help you in his own way.”There was a pause; a moment of silence between them. Then Dr. Summers leaned forward in her chair, her demeanor subtly changing, as though she were preparing to shift the conversation yet again."Can I ask you about Mr. Brinly?" Laura tensed. Wrong subject."No."Summers nodded, "Let's move on then, can I ask you, Laura," Dr. Summers leaned back in her chair, her body at ease, but her eyes never left Laura's. Her tone was measured, professional, and carefully bereft of judgment, yet each word she spoke carried an unmistakable knife's edge of precision. Laura could feel the psychiatrist's questions pressing into her, each one probing just a little deeper than the last.She asked about the first night at Hackett's Quarry, about the events leading up to Laura's imprisonment. The phrasing was light, as though meant to coax answers rather than demand them, but Laura wasn't fooled. Dr. Summers wasn't just gathering information—she was analyzing, dissecting every response.At first, Laura's responses were short, giving the bare minimum. But as the questions continued, ranging from her and Max right through to her time in the cage, frustration began to simmer beneath her calm exterior. Dr. Summers lingered on details Laura didn't want to talk about, skirting too close to emotions she wasn't ready to confront. Every time Laura thought the session was done; another question came—always probing at a new corner of her ordeal.How had she survived? Had she ever felt threatened? What was the nature of her relationship with Chris Hackett? And Travis Hackett?The last question had quickened Laura's pulse, though she showed nothing out of the ordinary in her expression. Summers' gaze lingered just long enough to make Laura uneasy, as if she peered around the words for some unspoken thing.Time went by, though Laura couldn't gauge how long. The air in the room seemed heavier with each question, with every pause Summers made while waiting for answers. Laura's responses became shorter, her patience thinner, but Summers was unbothered; her calm persistence shaken not even a trifle."In all that time you were down in that basement, did anything strange happen? Anything that felt—unusual?"Laura's body went rigid. Her breath caught in her throat. Strange? What did she mean by that? She narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone guarded. "What do you mean by strange?"Dr. Summers cocked her head to one side; her eyes were almost too focused. "I just mean—did you notice anything out of the ordinary? Anything that couldn't be explained?"Laura's heart quickened with sudden alarm. Her palms were instantly wet. She struggled not to show her the horror boiling within her. "I don't know what you're talking about."Dr. Summers smiled—never once reaching her eyes. "That's okay," she said smoothly, her tone even and nonchalant. "Sometimes, after a traumatic experience, the mind can play tricks on us. People see things that aren't really there, hear things that can't be explained. It's normal after what you've been through. I just want to help you make sense of it all."Laura clenched her teeth, her hand bunching once more on the blanket. "I didn't see anything that wasn't real," she said coldly. Dr. Summers nodded, holding her eyes on Laura a beat too long before she jotted something in her notepad. "Of course," she said quietly. "I'm not insinuating that you did. But sometimes, when people are in survival mode, they experience things differently. I just want to make sure you're not holding back something that might help you process what happened."Laura's chest constricted; a knot twisted inside her stomach. "I'm not holding anything back," she bit out, her voice sharper than she had meant.Dr. Summers raised her hands slightly as if in surrender, her tone conciliatory. "Of course, Laura. All I wanted to let you know was that when anything does come to mind—anything at all—you can tell me. It is part of the healing process."Laura remained silent; her gaze was hard, unyielding.Dr. Summers smiled again, but the tension between them was palpable now. She wasn't done probing. Not yet. Her voice softened, as her tone still carried an edge of insistence to dig deeper. "Why do you think the Hacketts had such a strange prison installation under their property? Did Sheriff Hackett give any explanation about it?" she asked gently, as if the question was casual.Laura's eyes flashed, her chest tightening. "Because they were fucking crazy," she spat, "That doesn't mean they were containing fairies or whatever the hell you're getting at. They preferred to contain people." Her voice was sharp, but beneath it was a quiver—a flash of the trauma she was working hard to bury.Dr. Summers let the words sink in for a second, after which she began to speak more, as calm and collected as ever, almost disarmingly so. "Sometimes, though, when we are faced with extreme circumstances, our minds create stories that can help us cope. You might have seen or heard something at the time that didn't make sense—maybe something you dismissed, but that's still there, lingering in your memory." She paused for a beat, watching Laura's every move, the most subtle changes in her expression. "Something from those nights when it was too quiet, when fear was the only feeling you could feel. Or maybe when you were alone with Sheriff Hackett.”Laura's chest constricted, a knot of anxiety hardening in her gut. The way Dr. Summers spoke—like she was peeling away layers of something that just wasn't there—made Laura's skin crawl. She grasped the blanket in fists, her knuckles white. The red room flickered in the eye of her mind—blood and fear, the terror etched into her very soul. She fought to keep her breathing even, her voice steady. "I think that's enough," Laura said with the decisiveness of one who would hear no more.But Dr. Summers didn't bat an eyelash. That warm smile stayed right where it was, though now Laura saw it for what it was—a mask. "I'm only trying to help, Laura," she said, still sounding soft and gentle. "If there is something that you are afraid to talk about, something that doesn't quite fit. I'm here to listen. This is a safe space. You don't have to hide anything from me.”Laura's eyes hardened. The tension between them now had become palpable, taut as a thin wire stretched too tight, ready to snap. "I told you what happened," she said coldly. "I'm not going to sit here and entertain theories about things that didn't happen.”She leaned back into the hospital bed, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture, her body language screaming for the conversation to be over. Laura didn't care if Dr. Summers thought she was impossible—this woman wasn't getting any more from her.For a long, silent moment, Dr. Summers said nothing, just watched her, as the oppressive silence mounted. Then she nodded slowly and smiled again—too polite, too knowing. "All right, Laura," she said softly. "We'll leave it there for today."She stood up, gathering her things with an air of professionalism, but there was something in her movements that felt off. As Dr. Summers made her way to the door, Laura kept her eyes fixed on her, her heart pounding in her chest. There was more to those well-chosen words and that polished behavior.With the click of the door closing behind the psychiatrist, Laura let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She was still breathing heavily, and her mind skittered uncomfortably. Dr. Summers' pushing—subtly probing for something more—had set off alarm bells. They weren't interested in her mental state alone. They were on a fishing expedition— something bigger.Laura looked sideways toward the window, her mind racing. She knew she had to be really careful. They weren't after the truth; they were after a story, and she wasn't about to give them one they could distort. She would protect what she knew—to protect Travis, to protect herself.But she knew they weren't looking for evidence. They were looking for something more.Laura was exhausted; her aching body, foggy mind, and everything in her being screamed for rest. Then again, barely ten minutes after, there came a knock on her door. She was not exactly pleased. The door slid open; there, in the doorway, was the FBI agent who had spoken to her earlier. She couldn't recall his name—already, everything was a blur."Afternoon, Ms. Kearney." His voice was calm, professional. “I understand that you have finished the psychological evaluation with Dr. Summers. She has mentioned to us that you are clear-headed and can talk, but during the session, you showed signs of fatigue." He stopped, reading any notes he had made in his mind. "We'd like to reschedule your interview for later this afternoon, to give you some time to rest, grab something to eat, and just relax so you're fresh and ready when we take your statement."Laura nodded but as the agent turned to leave, she found herself speaking before she was able to avoid it. "Can I visit Travis for a while?" Her voice was smaller than she intended, and she couldn't stand the thought of being in that sterile, silent room without him. Not now.The agent did not straightforwardly answer, his face a mask of slight discomfort. "I'm afraid that's just not possible at this time, Ms. Kearney. He's being assessed now. From what I understand, he needs quite a bit of rest after the surgery. He has been through so much, and we do not want him further fatigued. But we really do need your statement; we have to move forward with this investigation, and this will bring justice—not just for your two, but for all those victims that were involved in the Hackett's Quarry summer camp.”Laura swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded again, though her chest was tightening painfully. She did understand, logically at least, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. The silence in the room pressed in on her, a smothering blanket. Travis should be here."Is he—ok?" The voice barely above a whisper betrayed the raw fear clawing at her insides.The agent expression softened just a little. "He's stable. He lost a lot of blood, also lost some weight during imprisonment. But he's strong, Ms. Kearney. He just needs time to recover."With each word spoken, she felt her gut being punched. Pulling her legs into her chest, Laura clutched her knees together as she sat on the hospital bed, trying to hold herself in. Travis had been starving himself. He'd been giving her part of his share of food, his share of water, saving what little they had so she could survive. She'd been frustrated with him so many times, thinking he was being too harsh, too serious, but now she understood. He had been sacrificing himself for her the entire time.Her heart ached with the realization of it all. He had been torturing himself—keeping himself battered and bruised, physically and emotionally—just to protect her, to make sure she came out of that nightmare alive, even if it meant he suffered more. She had come up from hell without more than a couple of brushes and scratches, while Travis got scars, burns and shot. She still could smell the horrid smell of burned skin from the electric wall of the cage. And now she was here, alone in this cold, clinical room, while he was elsewhere, hurt and exhausted, still taking the weight of everything upon his shoulders.Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she fought them back. The quiet of the room echoed around her, too loud, too empty. She missed the sound of Travis breathing beside her, the soft hums he made when reading, even the quiet moments where they shared a space, each knowing the other was there.Bright, white, sterile. A new kind of prison, but a prison nonetheless. And Travis was gone.She huddled deeper into herself, her forehead pressed against her knees. She was already surviving so much. This she could do. Yet the silence without him… it was just too much.Laura's family returned after an hour or so, catching her midway through a late snack. The food wasn't good, but there was something so comforting about the simple act of eating off a knife and fork—even if that knife was plastic. It felt so oddly free, almost like this small reminder that she wasn't in a cage anymore. They sat and talked, filling the room with noise and warmth that Laura didn't quite realize how much she'd missed. It wasn't the conversations themselves—mostly her parents talking about the investigation and the media coverage and her mom's concerns about Laura's future. They talked about Max too, and the painful realization she hasn’t thought about him as much as she would have wanted, but she was trying to survive. And the thought of him was overwhelming enough for her to not want to think about it. It was the sound of their voices, the cadence of her dad's lame jokes, the way her mom fussed about little things. She needed this. She needed to feel like she was normal again, even if only for a moment.By the time she had to give her first official police statement, she was utterly burned out. The exhaustion weighed heavy on her, her limbs slow, her mind slower. She walked into the small, sterile room, blinking against the bright fluorescent lights. It was just her, a tape recorder, and the FBI agent who barely introduced himself before getting to business.He told her to go ahead and explain what had happened from her perspective. Laura explained what she could to him; the words spilled in an exhausted haze from her lips. She stuck to the basics: how she and Max had decided to leave for summer camp a day in advance, how they almost got into an accident while driving there, and how Travis Hackett was the one who'd pulled their car out of the ditch. She had no way of knowing whether he was on patrol or merely heading home and didn't bother with a guess. From there, the story morphed into the lies she'd rehearsed, sprinkled liberally enough with truth to keep Travis safe.They went to the camp, but someone drugged them. She didn't know who, couldn't see a face, she lied about that part too. "He wore a mask," she said, though she could still picture Travis's face as clear as day in her mind. His voice? She lied about that too. She kept everything about him vague, distant. Travis was just someone who happened to be there later, someone caught in the mess.The story went back to the basement—how she, drugged, woke up, locked in that cell. Max was taken somewhere else; she did not know where. Time passed in a blur—marked by constant fear. "They always had a gun pointed at me, metaphorically speaking," she muttered and stared at the table. "Every minute felt like I was going to die."She told him that after Travis had figured out what had been going on, he also tried to get her free. They threw him in the cage, too. "We were stuck in the basement down there together for what felt like an eternity," she said, her voice cracking. She danced around the true nightmare of those months—the truth about the Hacketts. Instead, she told him of how Bobby had helped them get away at the end, that twisted family betrayal which had left them running for their lives.Her voice cracked, her sentences dragging as exhaustion clawed at her mind. She was trying to hang on by the lies, by the story that protected Travis, but it was just getting so big. The agent must've realized that too because finally, he stopped hammering more questions at her."That's enough for today," he said, standing and shutting off the tape recorder. "Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. Kearney. We will contact you for a full statement in a couple of days.""Wait—" she sat up. "The other guy told me I could see Travis today after I finished the statements."The agent looked at his watch— located inside of his wrist."I have to apologize, but it appears we have held this meeting for too long. Visitor hours are over for today."Laura glanced at the clock at the wall and cursed, swallowing a knot in her throat. "Listen, Ms. Kearney, I'm going to call my partner, and we will make sure to schedule a visitation tomorrow during visiting hours. Is that alright?"
No.
"I suppose."Agent Asshole nodded again."Well, see you tomorrow then; have a good rest of your evening." Then he stood up and opened the door to Laura, that went straight back to her own room. It was unknown to Laura how long it had been since she'd been left to her own devices in that sterile room; the air in the hospital was even colder now. It weighed her down, and every thought felt heavier than the one before it, yet her brain wouldn't stop racing. Her mind could not get off of her statement—how every word had to be measured, every detail so carefully chosen. The lies mixed with the truth; she didn't know if it sounded convincing enough. She jumped out of bed, legs shaking out of unuse. Walked towards the door and slid it open to check the corridors. Dark and empty. Laura stepped out, careful with the sound of her bare feet against the tiles. They kept asking weird questions—questioning things that didn't make any sense. Why did they keep insisting? Why did they care about things that had nothing to do with what happened at all?Her mind was a fog, she rounded one corner—then the next—to find a guard outside Travis's room, leaning lazily against the wall. He wasn't paying much attention, too engrossed in his phone. She didn’t remember a guard there before. Her parents told her there was somebody strange looking—too perfect—in the waiting room and that later they have seen him walking the corridors but with no destination in mind. Whether this was the same guy in charge of their security or just a random guard from the hospital, her heart immediately raced with adrenaline as she realized this was her chance.She didn't hesitate. slipping behind the nearest gurney, moving silently with the brief distraction of the guard. It wasn't the first time she had to slip past somebody, and this wasn't going to stop her now. She crept toward the door that was a little ajar and, in one smooth motion, slid it open enough to be able to get inside without much sound. She was so thankful at the moment for the silent glass sliding doors. The room was in darkness save for the soft light glowing beside Travis's bed. He sat up staring out the window, his rough hands grasping the thin blanket covering his legs. His face was drawn, exhaustion hanging over him like a shadow, but his head turned the moment he heard the slightest movement of the door, his brain still triggered in mass awareness even after being freed from the red cellar.His eyes widened a little, and his brow furrowed. "Laura, you're not supposed to be here," he rasped. The huskiness of his voice came from long hours of talking. Laura shrugged, her lips tugging upwards in a mischievous smile. "What, you're gonna arrest me for breaking into a hospital room?" she said, her eyes sparkling with that sharp edge of defiance.He shook his head. "I think that's against protocol, but I'm too damn tired to argue."Laura grinned, scraping a chair across the floor to his bedside with a loud screech that made them both wince and look at the door, but the luring figure didn’t flinch. "Good, because I'm not leaving," she said matter-of-factly, plopping herself down beside him. "How are you feeling?" she asked then, softening somewhat as she took in his drawn look."Like hell," he said with a weak chuckle, his hand stirring weakly to reach for hers. His fingers touched hers and the slight touch sent a wave of calm through Laura. "You alright?" Travis asked, the concern creeping into his voice as he peered at her face.Laura slowly exhaled and leaned back in the chair, staring down at the floor. "Not really," she whispered. "They asked a lot of questions. Weird ones."Travis's frown deepened. "Weird how?”She scrubbed her eyes, the weight of it all washing over her anew. "They kept asking about the basement—the cells. Why did your family have it set up like that. They wouldn't stop pushing, like they were looking for something more." She met his gaze, her voice lowering. "And they asked about you. About things you might've said or done.”Travis tensed up, eyes clouding. "What did you tell them?"Laura leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "I stuck to the story. Told them you never wanted to hurt me, that you were trapped just like I was. But— I didn't mention Silas.”Travis exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders in a mix of relief and exhaustion. "Good. Keep it that way. The more they push, the more we need to hold the line. But do not risk yourself with lies, if you notice they are closing in on you just give a rational explanation."Laura just looked at him, her heart clenching at the weariness etched on his face. "I'm scared, Travis. I don't know how much longer we can keep this up. They're going to find something we can't explain away."Travis reached out and took her hand once more, his fingers wrapping around hers in a soft squeeze. "We'll get through this," he murmured, the words even then uncertain.They sat this way for several minutes, silent, the quiet of the hospital room bearing down on them oppressively. Laura's mind was a jumble of thoughts, the silence thick between them with all they weren't saying."You should get some rest," Travis said finally, his voice soft, though his eyes betrayed the fact that he was as far from sleep as she was.Laura shook her head. "I can't sleep alone in that room," she said, the vulnerability in her voice startling even her.Travis's gaze softened and for a moment, the worry and exhaustion melted away. "Then stay," he whispered.Laura didn't hesitate. She climbed onto the bed beside him, careful of the IV line and the bandages that dotted his body. "Careful, I have one or two broken ribs," he said softly when she tried to cover his chest with her arm. She laid it on his stomach instead, with her head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. Travis wrapped an arm around her, tugging her into his uninjured side. It was a simple move, but suddenly it felt like the only glue holding her together. She could feel his heart, his pulse—the proof of his existence, against her cheek. He smelled like antiseptic and hospital, but she also could gather the personal aroma of Travis, and the smell of the blankets of the bed from the cell. The only familiar thing, bringing her to the warm embrace of sleep."I wanted to apologize… for hitting you," she whispered, her voice timid.Travis could manage a worn-out smile. "It's all right. I don't remember much, but I probably deserved it.""No, you didn't. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."He squeezed her hand. "You're forgiven."Laura smiled smugly. "You know, you might've said a bit too much while you were drugged after surgery. I got a few secrets out of you," she teased, an edge back in her voice.Travis chuckled shortly, wincing slightly. "I blame the meds for that one."The small smile on Laura's face disappeared, and in an instant, her voice went tight with emotion. "I should've stayed with you—I thought—I thought if I got the police, we'd both be okay. I didn't think so. If I'd known you were going to get shot, I would have stayed and—God, I don't know, distracted them, or found some way to get us both out. I thought I'd lost you, and that it was my fault. I'm so happy you're alive—I couldn't have lived with myself if—"Travis wrapped his arm a little tighter, soft reassurance. "Laura, no. I wanted you to go. This thing with my family—it was something I had to face eventually. I knew that. It was my battle. I just didn't expect—" His voice caught in his throat, the memory of his mother raw and heavy in his mind. "I didn't expect my mom to be armed. But I don't regret giving you the chance to leave. Whatever it took to get you out of that house, I'd do it again."She looked up at him, a hint of her usual keenness returning. "Well, you sure left your dad pretty beaten up. Not sure I've ever seen anyone get so busted in a brawl."He grinned slightly, then yawned; his eyes shut while exhaling heavily. "I'm not proud of the man I was at that moment. I—I might have lost myself in the rage for a while."Laura shot a smirk his way, her eyelids starting to feel a little heavy themselves. "Remind me never to get on your bad side.""Yeah, well. You've been dancing in the line since I met you." Not that Laura had anything to fear from him. Never. Not her. There wasn't a scenario where Travis could see himself becoming that feral ever again either. That kind of hate, that kind of wild rage, was only meant for his family's betrayal. But even as the faint humor still lingered between them, one question clogged Travis's throat. It burned there, heavy and sharp, too dangerous to voice and too important to let slide. He hesitated, his jaw tightening, then finally forced the words out."What about Max? You heard from him?"Laura froze, the weight of the question slamming into her like a physical blow. Her throat constricted, and the backs of her eyes stung. She was sad when she'd first heard the news—when it had been delivered like another bitter fact in the chaos of their escape. But she'd had no time to grieve, no space to think about it between the adrenaline and the fear. Now, in Travis's warm, protective embrace, the dam broke."He's—he didn't—" The words choked in her throat, and suddenly it was all coming down. A strangled sob was wrenched from her throat as the grief she'd contained finally overwhelmed her. Her body shuddered and for the first time she let herself feel it, really feel it: the love, the loss, the raw, searing pain of knowing Max was gone, truly gone.Travis’s eyes widened, panic flaring in his chest. "Laura—I’m sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with guilt as he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her as close as he could, ignoring the sharp twinge in his side. She buried her face in his chest, clutching at his scrubs as the sobs came harder, her pain pouring out like a flood.He closed his eyes, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He felt like this, too, was his fault. If he had done something earlier, if he had done his job more than protecting the wrong side of this war—maybe Max would still be alive. Maybe Laura wouldn’t be breaking apart in his arms. The thought tore at him, and his grip on her tightened. "I’m so sorry," he whispered again, his voice cracking under the weight of his own anguish.Laura shook her head against him, too overcome to respond. But his warmth, his steady presence, was what she needed. For the first time, she felt safe enough to grieve, to let her guard down completely. She didn't have to be strong or angry or clever. Not here, not with him.Eventually, her sobs subsidized, leaving her breathing shallow and uneven. She let out a long sigh, going completely limp against him, pressing her cheek to his chest. His breathing, slow and steady, was so warm and comforting that it lulled her into a state of peace she hadn't felt in weeks.Travis held her close, his chin coming to rest lightly against her head. He said nothing, his own heart heavy with guilt and sorrow, but he let himself find solace in the fact that this was a moment he could give her. Together, clasped in each other's arms, they finally fell asleep, the tension and anguish of their ordeal slipping away, if only for the night. The next morning Laura's parents walked into her room and met an eerie silence. Her bed was undone but without anybody sleeping on it, the bathroom empty—she had disappeared. Fast-beating hearts took them running down the hall to seek out the agent assigned to her security. After a very short search, their concerns were quickly alleviated after they went to inspect Sheriff Hackett’s room. Because there she was, curled up beside him, both fast asleep on his hospital bed: Laura, who had managed to find her way to Travis's room during the night, curled on his left side. Their faces etched with exhaustion, their sleeping was deep; their breathing calm, synchronized. They looked at peace, resting together in a way they hadn't been able to since their captivity.Finally, they felt like they were whole again—if only for a little while.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Laura's behavior got them into trouble the morning after that previous overnight incident. The fact that they had been found sleeping together in the same room, same bed even, unsupervised, had earned them a gentle scolding from both the hospital staff and law enforcement. Not that they were being told off too harshly, but still, it hurt to hear. They were told that though supervised visits had been approved, they were expected to keep their distance until full statements had been given. And because Travis Hackett had just gone through a surgery to remove a bullet out of his insides, sharing a bed wasn’t the recommended choice. It was the type of bureaucratic crap that just made Laura's skin crawl. She knew darn well the only reason visits had even been allowed by the FBI was due to her psychological evaluations with Dr. Summers. It finally became crystal clear that keeping her mentally fit was a key to the investigation. The daily check-ins, she suspected, were more for the sake of making sure she stayed in line rather than actual concern. After all, it was clear from them that the agents didn't exactly care about her well-being; all they needed was for her to be docile and calm enough to get through her final statement. Still fishing for something Laura couldn't put her fingers into. But Laura didn't care about the psychological games involved. The bottom line was she got to be with Travis, and she would take complete advantage of the situation. Not by fighting or throwing fits—that would only earn them more restrictions. No, she had learned something or two about how to bend the rules without breaking them. She'd make their time together as mundane and harmless as possible—something the feds wouldn't consider a threat. So she asked her parents to bring her books. Stacks of them. If they were going to be watched, fine. She would sit in Travis's bed, reading next to him, doing nothing that could be remotely considered ‘troublesome’. The first time Agent Lewis had something to say about it, Laura responded with her usual smartass remark. "What, are you going to arrest me for reading Little Women?" she'd said with a cocky grin, not even bothering to look up from her book. Travis chuckled quietly beside her, his usual good-natured patience evident, though he was still exhausted and slept most of the time Laura was in the room. Every night, the nightmares jolted him awake like a gunshot—though he hadn't said anything about it to Laura. She seemed to understand anyway, treating his daily naps as part of his healing rather than insomnia. Maybe it was something in the sound of her voice reading, or the warmth of her lying beside him, that put him at ease just enough to finally catch a few hours of sleep before she was asked to return to her room. It wasn't just the rules that Laura bridled against. She had introduced Travis to her parents that same morning they had been caught sleeping together. It wasn't exactly planned, but it felt right. Her parents treated Travis like a hero, expressing gratitude for all he had done to protect her. It had shocked Travis, visibly so. His shoulders tensed, his face tightening as if he couldn't quite process the praise. He wasn't used to hearing anything good about himself apart from his role as a Sheriff, and Laura had felt the weight of his discomfort. But she hadn't grasped why. He was a hero to her—he'd saved her more times than she could count. Yet, the sight of him squirming under her parents' compliments made her realize just how deeply his guilt ran. How much his family had chewed on his confidence and self-esteem.But at least, even with all the tension, it had been okay. They'd be together and that was what mattered. Travis hadn't been allowed to shave yet, something which had become a running joke between them. Laura would tease him ceaselessly, smirking every time she made the observation of just how rough he looked. Travis took it in stride with his soft smile, rolling his eyes without really being annoyed.It wasn't until the second day of this routine that Agent Lewis showed up again. The knock at Travis's door was soft, yet insistent, drawing Laura from the pages of the book she'd been reading. Travis, however, was still napping, his soft snores a comforting background hum in the room. Laura sat beside him in a chair, holding his hand absently, needing the contact more than she wanted to admit. The warmth of his skin against hers anchored her in a way that nothing else did. She could have been reading in her own room, but the quiet sound of his breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, it was something she needed.The agent in charge of watching them was sitting in a chair by the corner next to the door, and he casted a slight nod at Lewis in acknowledgment; only then Laura looked up and realized he was there instead of what she guessed was just a nurse. She instinctively squeezed Travis' hand, relaxing it right after as to not wanting to wake him just yet.Agent Lewis stepped inside, clearing his throat softly, not to startle either of them. "Miss Kearney," he started with a tone that was far too official for her liking, "we've scheduled your final interrogation."Laura's eyebrows furrowed, and her lips parted, ready to complain. Of all the things she did not need; more questions or being pulled away from Travis again did top the list.But Lewis, ever observant, cut her off before she could get started. "After your interview, it's Sherif Hackett's turn. He has a medical check right after, and once that's done, you'll be free to see him without supervision. Or—" he paused, his eyes locking onto hers, "you'll be free to leave the hospital tomorrow. To go back to your life."Her stomach twisted at the mention of leaving, the knowledge that she'd be returned to a world where she might have to exist without Travis right beside her. She squeezed tightly onto his hand, her knuckles white as her body coiled tight under the weight of it all. Could she even have a life now without him in it? The idea of a normal life again—school, old routines—seemed so foreign now. Empty. But this was what they'd been waiting for. Freedom. She forced herself to let go of his hand, standing slowly from the chair. "Fine," she muttered, the word delivered in a begrudging tone. She glanced over at Travis, sleeping still, brow furrowed even as he rested. She hated this. Hated being forced to leave him behind all over again. But if this was to be the final hurdle, she'd jump it.Agent Lewis nodded, well satisfied that she wasn't going to push back, and stepped aside to give her a last look at Travis before she left.Laura took a deep breath, her chest tight with unspoken terrors and frustrations. But one more day, tomorrow this would be finished, they'd be free.No more words said, she turned to walk out of the room, the sterile weight of the hospital walls closing in behind her. Laura sat bolt upright, facing the interrogator from the FBI, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She had already met him before, and was the one during her first statement so the familiar face gave her more confidence. Dr. Summer sat to the left of her gaze steady but concerned, what was supposed to be a comforting presence in the room. Agent Lewis sat across from them, leaning back in his chair, a professional smile on his face as he shuffled the papers in front of him. Something in his calmness unnerved Laura, but she did her best to hold steady. The interrogator, Agent Hale, started the record player.As agent Hale spoke, Laura's eyes landed on the clip affixed on his tie. An acorn, a silver detailed acorn with a small red stone. She tried to focus all of her attention on the man himself. For Max. For Ryan. For the counselors. For the missing. For the dead. For Travis. For herself.And then, finally, the statement started exactly as Laura had known it would: with them asking her to tell her story again. Agent Hale sat opposite her, his face impassive, pen poised above his notebook as if every word she spoke might be sifted for the minutest detail."Start at the beginning, Ms. Kearney," he said, tone neutral with an edge of cold professionalism. "Tell us what happened that night with Mr. Brinly."So, she did. She told the same story she'd been telling for what felt like the dozenth time. About how they were driving through the woods, about how they saw an animal and swarved towards the woods. About how Travis had just sort of appeared out of nowhere, about how he'd pulled them out of what could've been a fatal situation. "He helped us," she said, her voice almost mechanical by now, she'd repeated it so many times.They asked for more information. About the summer camp, about the moment they'd been knocked out cold. She described how everything had gone black, how weird it had felt to fall unconscious without knowing why or how. With each answer, they pressed for more detail, details that were only vaguely recalled, if that, or may never have been known. "Tell me again, what did you notice when Sheriff Hackett first pulled you over?”"Did you get the chance to meet any of the counselors?""Were you locked before or after the summer camp started?""Did you have a chance to meet Chris Hackett in person?"
That fucking red clip on his tie.
"Did you meet the Hacketts, any of them, before the incidents at Hackett's Quarry?""What exactly did Jedediah Hackett say to you when you came to the Hackett house?""What was the room like when you woke up?"Every question was beginning to sound more like a trap than a valid question.The repetition wasn't just tiring—it was scary. The sweat started to bead in Laura's temple, sending a cool trickle running down her skin as the room seemed to close in around her. They circled back to questions they'd previously asked her, making her doubt her own words. The layers they had been peeling back from her story were meant to get her to contradict herself or forget some essential detail. Nothing escaped Agent Hale's gaze, and his sharp eyes would catch every hesitation and slight change in tone. With every repetition, Laura felt her composure slipping."Ms. Kearney," he leaned forward, lowering his voice no more than a fraction, "you've told this story before. But I need you to focus. Are you sure there's nothing else? Nothing you've left out? What about Sheriff Hackett—did he say anything strange, anything that didn't make sense?"Now, her heart was racing, the feeling of being trapped setting in. She wiped at her brow, her attempt to stay composed. "No," she replied with decisiveness, though her tone shook ever so. "Travis was protecting me. He didn't want to hurt me."More questions came. Time and time again, they had her relive the moments—repeat, rewind, fast-forward, replay."How did you feel when you first saw the cells?""Why didn't you immediately attempt to escape?""What did Sheriff Hackett say to you the following morning once he got locked in the same cell as you?"The way he asked questions made her think she wasn’t giving good enough answers, it was never right. He was just waiting for her to make a slip, providing some minuscule, incriminating detail she thus far kept hidden. But Laura had nothing left to give. She was running on fumes, her nerves growing more frayed with each passing minute.That bright, scarlet clip on his tie was jarring against his dark garb; something stirred deep inside of her. It was small—a detail that would have been entirely unremarkable to anyone else—but to her, it was a cruel echo of the red room. The red clip pulsed in her brain, merging with memories of the red light that had consumed her life. It felt like it was searing into her vision, a bright reminder of the place she wanted to leave behind but couldn't seem to escape. That color chased her. Pulling her down. She looked at her hands and had to do a double take because she could have sworn they were covered in sticky red blood. Her mind began to drift—flashes of the red room, the cold stone walls, Travis silently handing her coffee every morning while on the station as if it was the only normal thing left in their twisted reality. Travis crying in a corner, repeating words in a loop that made her heart break. The haunted expression on his eyes. Constance bringing her that ugly disgusting dress. Bobby holding her against the bed.
Travis blood covering her hands.
Her ears still remembered the soft hum of his voice in her head, still telling her to be strong, hold on. Except this wasn't the red room, and Travis wasn't here with her now. She was alone. Laura swallowed hard, her gaze flickering to Agent Hale’s hand as she tried to focus once more. The pen in his fingers was black, the clicking sound loud as he jotted down notes.But he didn't catch her unease. "And after you woke up in the cell—how long before you realized you weren't getting out?"Her mouth was dry, her throat tightening. Laura wanted to scream, to throw the pen across the room, to tell them that no matter how many times she told them the story, it would not change. Instead, she swallowed down her rising panic and answered, "I—I don't know. Maybe a few hours. I wasn't really thinking about time."Her eyes flashed back down to that red pin, hands fisting on the armrest of her chair. Focus, she ordered herself. Just get through this. Just get to the end."Alright, Ms. Kearney," he began, voice perfectly neutral. "You've already told us a lot, but we need to review the finer details one more time. Just so we get everything straight.”Laura nodded, catching the lip between her teeth. A story she had told so many times; it was almost like reading from a script. "I told you what happened. I woke up in a cell alone with the Hacketts looking at me. Then Travis found out and tried to free me but then he got locked too. His father, Jedediah, trapped us there. They wanted to—""Yes, yes," the agent interrupted."That is a good story, but we need the rest. All of it." He leaned forward slightly, his tone darkening. "Let's go back to the night you and Mr. Brinly were driving through the woods," Agent Hale said casually, though there was a hint of something else in his voice now. He paused, tapping his pen against his notepad. "You said Sheriff Hackett rescued you after getting off the road—but we both know that's not the full story, is it?" Laura's fingers knitted into her lap, scraping the nails across the fabric of her scrubs as she wrestled herself to keep a hold on restraint. "I told you already," she said, the strain deeper within her voice. "Travis found us after the crash, put us back in the road and then we went to Hackett’s Quarry, and after that, we were trapped. That's all there is to it."Hale then sighed and opened the yellow folder in front of him; pictures, documents, fingerprints, records, statements, witnesses— evidence. Started flowing in front of her eyes. “And how Mr. Brinly’s and your fingerprints ended up all over the decommissioned police station? Was there where Sheriff Hackett took you two after he pulled your car off the woods?"Laura's brain alarm started sounding with impounding fear. "Or why your fingerprints were found in his police car, discarded in Hackett’s Quarry lake."Laura's heart skipped a beat. A cold sweat started to form at the base of her neck."And we also have proof of Sheriff Hackett's tampering with Mr. Brinly's car," said the agent, continuing. "So let's not play games anymore, okay? We are tired and I bet you are tired too; you will feel better once you tell us. We can protect you if you are scared, if you feel you are in danger.”In a moment, the air in the room thickened, as if to smother them. Dr. Summers, who leaned back uncomfortably in her chair, looked at the agent like shooting daggers before looking back at her."Laura, listen," the doctor interposed softly, trying to regain control of the situation. "They just want to get to the truth. You don't have to feel pressured—"But the agent wouldn't let up, even after Summers tried to intercede. "You need to understand something, Ms. Kearney. Jedediah Hackett gave a full confession and your two versions don't match. Neither Robert Hackett. But you seem to have very much in common with Travis Hackett’s version and it's not adding up. Now, if you're going to keep covering for him, we have enough evidence to make sure he'll go to prison for life— Is that what you want?"The red clip."I've told you the truth! He saved my life! He tried to save all of us!" She yelled, her breathing starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t believe you—” he started.“Richard,” Dr. Summers intervened, her voice sharp. “No! You’re not being truthful. An animal crossed your path on the road? What animal? She doesn’t remember. Somebody kidnapped Mr. Brinly and you,” he turned his attention back to Laura. “And took you to the old, decommissioned police station, managed by Sheriff Travis Hackett. There is rest of your blood all over the showers, Mr. Brinly too. His cell was covered in blood. You two were kidnapped and now he is dead—”“That’s—”“I feel Travis Hackett trapped you there, he kidnapped you two for some reason and took you to the old cells to interrogate you. What makes me think that you saw something in the summer camp, didn’t you?” he pried. “You saw something and Travis Hackett kidnapped you for it.”“That’s crazy! He was locked with me in the cellar! He got shot trying to rescue me!”The red clip.Her breath got stuck on her throat.“What did you see in that basement in Hackett’s Quarry that made Sheriff Travis Hackett take you to the station?”“We didn’t—”“Who did you see in the basement?”Lewis made a nervous angry grimace at his colleague. Hale moved a couple of pages from the folder and found two DNA results from the labs with her name.“Agent Hale,” Lewis said in a warning tone.“So, why would your DNA we found in the decommissioned police station be different from the one the hospital collected when you came in?" Agent Hale asked in an innocently sounding tone, though the trap was most definitely set. "How is it possible for your DNA to change so suddenly? What infected you, Ms. Kearney? You didn't happen to get bit by something—did you? Was that why Hackett locked you two in the station?"The question came like a kick in the gut to Laura. She was thrown back into the night on the station, the sound of Max screaming in agony as he transformed into a monstrous thing. The pain she'd been in when her eye got scratched out of her face, the searing burn of his teeth sinking into her skin when she met him on the island. She hadn't spoken of it—and now, the FBI was pressing, digging, trying to connect dots that would lead them right to the truth.Laura's throat tightened; the world seemed suddenly too small, claustrophobic. Everything came back at once: the memories of the werewolf curse, nights locked in the red-lit cell, listening to the beat of her heart while waiting for the moon to rise.His voice seemed to echo in her brain, distorting with every word.
Did you get bit by something?
She breathed in, trying to center herself, trying to stay steady, but her eyes strayed to the little red stone on the clip of his tie. The red was bright, a fire engine red that tugged her back into the depths of that awful place, into the smothering red glow of the basement, the blood and the violence that had seared a stain into her soul. The werewolves, the curse, the cycle of terror she and Travis had barely outlived.
Travis blood on her hands.
She wasn't there anymore, but somehow she would have sworn she was.She could smell the coppery scent of blood, feel the cool iron of the cell bars beneath her fingertips, see the look Travis had given her—a look of equal fear and surprise—when she had returned back to her human form after her werewolf transformation. The infection, the terror—it all bubbled up inside her, threatening to explode. The memories swirled back like a tidal wave, the fear and the helplessness clutching at her all over again."Cover that," Summers snapped at Hale suddenly, noticing Laura's growing distress. "The red," she added, jabbing her finger toward the clip on the agent's lapel.The agent looked down at his chest with surprise and irritation and covered the clip with his hand.“I told you, Richard, not to wear red." Summers scolded in a hushed tone.But it was too late—the damage to Laura's brain was already done. She could feel her breathing quickening, her vision closing in on her as her heart throbbed in her chest. She was back in that cage, trapped, staring at the red lights that filled the room.She was alone. Travis was gone. And her hands were covered in blood. "Laura?" Summers said, her voice soft but insistent. "Stay with me."But Laura couldn't. She shot out of her chair, knocking it over as she bolted for the door. "I can't do this!" she screamed, her voice choked with panic. There were footsteps and shouts and the scrape of chairs behind her, but she didn't stop."Laura, wait!" Dr. Summers exclaimed, running after her, but Laura's body had moved before her brain could. She ran blindly through the sterile, overly bright halls of the hospital as her brain whirled into a million pieces with fear and confusion. Legs moved of their own accord while her chest heaved with shallow breaths that wouldn't fill her lungs. Each inhale burned, searing into her brain the reminder of panic that held her in an ever-tightening grip. Her vision smeared, white walls streaking into blurry smudges tinged with red, the same red staining her nightmares, the same red haunting her every conscious thought. She could do little more than blink through the red in her eyes, but somehow her body remembered, instinct tugging her backward on a direct course to a known destination. I need him, she told herself. He's the only thing holding me together. If I lose him, it's over.
They are going to take him.
Her footsteps reverberated off the vacant hallway, each slap of feet upon cold tile sounding eerily similar to a heartbeat, reminding her time was running out. She must reach him; she must protect him. They're going to take him away, her mind screamed. They're going to lock him up, and I'll never see him again. They'll take him, and then what? The thought sent a fresh wave of panic welling up and crashing over her, constricting her chest.As she rounded the corner, a security guard stepped into her path. His voice was muffled, like it came from underwater. She couldn't make out the words, couldn't focus on anything except the pounding terror in her chest. She didn't even stop to listen—she ducked under his outstretched hand, slipping past him like Travis had taught her. She had to get to Travis.
She needed to cover his wound.
Her hands fumbled for the door handle to his room, and she slid the door shut behind her, locking it with shaking fingers. The door clicked into place, but the feeling of safety didn't follow. Her back pressed against the glass, her chest rising and falling in rapid gasps. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating, drowning in the memories that clawed at her from the edges of her mind.Everything was red. She closed her eyes and she was back in the cell. In the empty red cell.The room spun, the too-clean walls closing in on her like the cage had. Her sight swam, the red haze thickening, oozing through thought, consuming her back to the place with no way out.
I'm going to lose him. I'm going to lose him.
Her hands were red. Covered in blood. Covered in his blood. Travis Hackett was dying under her touch.The words repeated in her head, over and over, growing louder until it was the only thing she could hear.
They are taking him.
"Laura…" Travis's voice cut through the haze, soft at first, almost drowned out by her spiraling thoughts.
He is dying.
She was paralyzed, frozen, with crushing terror freezing her limbs—her body couldn't move, unable to respond. Her chest felt like it was caving in, the air growing thinner, the room growing smaller. The red lights flashed in her mind, and she was back in the cell, watching helplessly as everything fell apart. Her breaths came in short, sharp bursts, each one feeling like it would be her last. A pool of blood was on her feet. Her hands were stained with it.
Red.
"Laura, look at me," Travis voice said again, this time louder, more urgent. But he sounded too far away, buried under the crushing weight of her panic. She was losing control.
She was losing him.
Her mind was racing, thoughts fractured, coming in jagged pieces. I have to get him out. We need to run. Maybe I can grab a wheelchair—get him out of here before they take him. The werewolves and all that would be discovered, and they would lock him up, kill him. The panic clutched her tighter and tighter as her body shook, the words starting to ramble incoherently from her lips."Laura!" Travis's voice cut through her frantic thoughts this time, sharp with concern. His face swam in her vision, pale and strained, but he was there.
He was here.
But her mind wouldn't stop. She was still caught in that fear, spiraling, spiraling. "They're coming for you," she gasped. "They're going to find out—about everything. The werewolves. The Hackett family. They'll lock you up. They'll kill you.""Laura, stop," Travis said, his voice cracking with emotion. "You're not making sense. Nobody is killing me. We can't run. Not like this." He winced as he tried to sit up, his wound pulling at his side, but he forced himself to stay steady. "I'm not going anywhere."
He will be gone.
“Kid— Fuck,” she could hear him curse, his voice tilted with sorry and desperation. “Come here, come here, sweetheart.”
Everything was red. She was alone and there were steps in the corridor. They were coming for her.
“Laura, I can’t get up! I need you to come to me, please! — Just follow my voice, I’m right here!”Her body shook as she fell against the side of the bed, not knowing how she got there, her hands clenching onto the railing so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She couldn't breathe. Her throat was on fire, her chest getting tighter and tighter until she thought she'd pass out from not having any air at all.
I'm going to lose him, I'm going to lose him.
"Laura, listen to me," Travis said. His voice was even, though she knew she could hear the strain in it. He was trying so hard to hold it together for her—to be strong when she was falling apart. "Look at me. I need you to look at me."She barely registered his words. Her mind was still racing. Her body was still locked in panic mode."Laura," he said again, and his voice was a fraction stronger now. "Look at me. Tell me what color my eyes are."The request took her aback. So inane, so ordinary, yet somehow it sliced through the storm of her thoughts like a lighthouse on a headland. What color are his eyes? Her brain grasped the question, insisting for her to concentrate. What color are Travis Hackett's eyes?Her vision swam still, everything tinged with a hue of red, the room blurring in and out. She tried to look at him, but it was all she could see—the blood in the cell, the blood on her hands, the blood on his face."Tell me what color my eyes are," Travis repeated, his voice this time softer, entreating her to anchor herself. His shaking hand reached out and lightly touched her arm. "Focus on me, come on, sweetheart."She blinked, her breath catching as she made herself lock gazes with him. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed with concern and sorrow, but they weren't red.
Not red.
"B—brown," she stammered, her voice no more than a whisper, her throat constricted with fear and exhaustion. "Your eyes are brown.""That's right," Travis said, his tone calm and reassuring. "My eyes are brown. You're here, with me. You're safe. We're both safe."His hand closed around hers, tugging her closer, the feel of his skin anchoring her in a way nothing else could. She leaned into him, her body shaking, but the smothering panic slowly began to recede.
I'm not in the cell. I'm not trapped. He's still here.
She fell against him, shaking against his shoulder uncontrollably. "I don't want to lose you," she exclaimed, her voice raw and a tremblor in her throat. "They're going to take you away. They're going to lock you up and I'll never see you again."Travis flinched with the movement, his wound on fire, yet he ignored it. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close despite how it pulled on him. "Shh… it's okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm not going anywhere.""But they have proof," Laura gasped. "They know about the car, the police station—they know everything. They fucking have my DNA—" Her voice actually cracked into desperation. "They're going to take you, Travis. They'll take you away, and I—I can't—""Hey," Travis whispered, his hand stroking her hair with soft gentleness in a bid to soothe her. "We'll figure it out. You're not losing me, okay? We'll get through this."Her breathing had steadied, though the tears still clung to her lashes. She leaned back just enough to meet his gaze, her voice shaking. "You haven't done anything wrong. You just—covered for your family. You tried to stop it all, to protect people." She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "But me? I killed somebody. I killed Kaylee Hackett."The words hung heavy in the air, like a stone dropped into deep water, the ripples of guilt spreading through her. She faltered over her voice but plunged ahead. "I can confess. Make a deal with the FBI. My confession—for you."Travis's hands cupped her face before she could say anything more, his thumbs brushing away her tears. His eyes, soft and heavy with emotion, locked onto hers as he shook his head.
"No," he said firmly, his voice breaking just slightly. "You don't say a damn word. You hear me? Nothing. We'll figure this out, but you don't put yourself on the line for me." His breath hitched, his grip tightening ever so slightly, anchoring her in the moment. "I don't care what they're saying, what they're trying to do. You've been through enough. I'm not letting you do this.""But Travis—"“Shh,” he whispered. "Not a word, Laura. Not one. We’ll face whatever comes, but not like that. Promise me."Her lips quivered as she nodded against his hands, his gaze unyielding yet filled with so much care it left her breathless. "I promise," she whispered, her voice barely audible.“Good," he said, his tone gentler now, his thumbs brushing against her cheekbones one last time before pulling her into his arms again. "We’ll face this together, sweetheart. You’re not alone.”Laura buried her face in his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline. "Please don't leave me," she whispered, raw and broken. "Please don't let them take you."Travis had closed his eyes, his heart breaking, as he pulled her tighter against him. "I'm not leaving you," he whispered, voice shaking with the weight of the promise he couldn’t make. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."The door clicked open behind them, and Laura instinctively stiffened as her heart lurched in her chest. Agent Lewis stepped into the room, his demeanor unlike the times before—less formal and more determined. Then Laura glimpsed through the glass door behind him and saw that two men in uniform were stationed on either side, their stances rigid and watchful. The sound of the door locking was different, somehow—the slight creak, the solid clunk of the latch engaging tight—and with it, the tension pucker in her chest pulled just a little tighter."I expected to handle this separately," Lewis began with a slick tone, though laced with something heavier, "but given the circumstances, it might be better if you two are together. God knows I hate repeating myself anyway."“Leave us the fuck alone." The words came out harsher than Laura intended. Her body felt strained, her muscles tensed, ready to attack. But before she could give into that urge, Travis's hand squeezed hers—a quiet plea for calm, even as his own grip revealed the pressure building inside him too."That's not possible," Lewis answered— sounding like an apology— still unyielding.“We want an attorney; we don't want to continue speaking anymore with you." "I'm afraid the conversation has overshot that step a bit, if at the end of this you still want an attorney, I can arrange that, but first, we need to talk.”He drew a chair from the corner and pulled it closer to the bed, then grabbed the one the other agent had been using while chaperoning them and took a seat in it. “Please, Ms. Kearney, I would like for you to sit down for this. Sheriff Hackett’s injuries can take so far,” he pleaded. Laura looked at Travis uncertainty, her eyes wide in terror. He caressed her arm and nodded. “Go sit, I’m right here, I’ll be holding your hand all the way.”Laura stood from the bed next to Travis and sat in the chair that had been prepared for her. As soon as she was comfortable, she raised her hand back to the bed where Travis held it. Lewis opened a folder, beginning to spread pictures across the sheets by Travis' legs. Close enough for both of them to see what he was showing them. The weight in Laura's stomach grew as she saw the familiar faces staring back at her: Chris, Caleb, Kaylee, Max, some of the counselors, and herself. Her breath caught in her throat as the air suddenly felt thick with dread. Each one had been bitten, each face tied to unspeakable horrors. Lewis's gaze remained on the photos until it met hers."We have a lot of evidence already," he now said—the tone was much softer, almost cajoling. "Plus, various DNA profiles, before and after."He laid another photo on the bed; this one revealed claw marks across the abandoned police station. "And we know your fingerprints were all over the sheriff's station," he said, continuing, "And the Sheriff's car, which we found ditched in the lake."Laura's heart started racing. They knew it all. They had found everything and were closing in now. Her free hand was a fist; the nails bit into her palm as she tried to keep calm. Her mind, however, raced, caught in the tug-of-war between fear and survival instinct.“And,” Lewis said, his eyes sharpening as they flickered toward Travis, “the bodies we recovered from the deceased in those pictures were found with fragments of tampered ammunition. So, we know there is more to this than you two are letting on, let's cut the chase.”Laura's throat constricted. Her pulse quickened as her chest constricted.She barely heard the next words of the agent: "We need to know what really happened—and we need to know how to find the first one.”She sucked in air, her words catching in her throat. The first one. Silas. They knew. They knew about him, knew about the werewolves. Her eyes darted to Travis in a desperate plea for reassurance, for something to hang onto as her mind whipped up into a tornado-like frenzy. But Travis had gone serious, dead serious, and was looking straight at him."You've been hunting it, haven't you, Sheriff?" Lewis asked. His voice was firm this time, as he turned fully toward Travis. "You've been tracking wolves for a very long time. We know that."Travis's face was impassive, yet Laura knew the tension was radiating off him. His hand clamped onto hers, his knuckles white with pressure. A lengthened moment of silence from them—just the buzz in Laura's ears—while time seemed to freeze."Just one," Travis finally whispered, hardly audible, yet in every weighted word, it carried weariness.Lewis leaned slightly forward, contented with the answer but, clearly, he wanted more. "We need the entire story, Sheriff. And, in turn, we might be able to help you both."Laura's jaw clenched as the panic started bubbling up again. She couldn't think straight, the weight of the situation crushing her from all sides. "You're not fucking FBI, are you?" she spat, her voice sharp, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.Lewis's lips hitched up into a thin, almost smug smile. "I'm part of a separate branch," he said, not sounding at all perturbed. "When the state police arrested the Hacketts, Jedediah Hackett gave a full confession. He confessed to all of the victims with gunshot wounds—some he could remember well, others vaguely—but said that he was the main responsible."Travis and Laura stiffened, the shock of the moment washing over them. Jedediah was taking all the blame, protecting his sons and grandchildren. The guilt and maybe the regret had to have been what had him confessing, yet all the while, it had to be his way of atonement with Travis for what he'd done to his boy, his older son, and that girl he so desperately tried to protect."To anyone else, it might've sounded like the ravings of an old man driven mad by age, talking about why he had to kill everybody because they were werewolves. He is a smart one, your father, Sheriff. He confessed to all of the murders and the imprisonment of both of you. Who would believe something like that? But to us—" He trailed off, his smile disappearing as he tucked his hands in his lap. "We know better."His eyes turned back to the photos scattered across the bed, the brutal evidence that sewed it all together. "By the time we took over the investigation, they had found a lot of evidence: the Sheriff's car, the old station, the damage at Hackett's Quarry, marks of claws, stains of blood, and above all—" with his finger he pointed at one of the photos; Max "—the change in DNA before and after infection.”Laura's stomach just about hit the floor. The blood drained from her face, images of the creature, the curse that had torn through her life and left destruction in its wake flitting through her head. They had proof. Of everything."And," Lewis appended, his eyes boring into her face, "we also know what kind of bullets were used for the crimes: Silver.” He tapped on the whole group of photos in the bed with an open palm. "That's not something you can explain away so easily, nor the wounds of those who died under other circumstances."Laura's breath caught in her throat, and she instinctively tightened her grip on Travis, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. "What the fuck," she whispered, barely audible, the world seeming to tilt on its axis. "You're trying to tell me the FBI has a paranormal investigation team paid by taxpayers to hunt—what—werewolves?"Lewis raised his hands, palms outward in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension. "I will answer your questions, Ms. Kearney. But first, we need your part of the story. The whole truth. From both of you. We need to find the source of this—and stop it."Laura's heart was pounding, her mind trying to scramble into coherence. "How are we supposed to know you're not bluffing? You won't just lock us away in some insane asylum like you are going to do with old good Jed?"Lewis didn't coddle her; instead, he stared right back into her eyes. "You don't. But here's what I do know: Travis Hackett is looking at a life sentence unless we get the full truth. You, Ms. Kearney, may appear as a victim to the public, but we have evidence pointing to Sheriff Hackett abducting you. And it's enough to bury him. Not considering some unaccounted deaths and that we still need the statement of Constance Hackett, which will shed more light on why you were selected as the lucky one to join the family.”Laura's mouth snapped shut, the words dying on her lips. Travis. She turned to him, a pang in her heart at the haunted look in his eyes. Now it was all unraveling.Travis swallowed hard, his voice low, heavy with guilt. "I was the one who found them in the forest that night," he started, the voice barely above a quiver. Laura's head whipped toward him. "I was hunting for a white wolf. It had run them off the road. I told them to go to the motel that night when they told me they were heading to Hackett's Quarry…" His voice tapered off, and the silence in the room for that instant took on a life of its own. Laura could hear the shallow, unequal patterns of her own breathing as the weight of his confession seemed to hang in the air.Agent Lewis finished for him in a low and almost detached tone. "Because your family was infected, and you knew they were at the Hackett’s Quarry basement before the summer camp started. Which makes me think it was Christopher Hackett, your brother, locked in there."Laura's head snapped to him so fast that pain shot through her neck, but she didn't care. Travis swallowed hard, the grip on Laura's hand painfully tight, but she didn't flinch. She couldn't. She was too overwhelmed by the pain on Travis' face. This must have been the first time he told— really told— to a stranger about his brother. The pieces of the puzzle were finally coming together, but instead of bringing relief, they only made her heart ache more."When I reached Hackett's Quarry that night…" Travis's voice cut, his eyes snapping shut as though to shut out the memory. "It was too late."She could feel his pain, see it etched into every line of his face. Her heart ached for him, for what he had done, for what he had been forced to do and endure. She knew now that he hadn't just been protecting them all, trying to protect everyone—even his family, even when they were beyond saving. He had been trying to fix something that had spiraled out of control long before he realized it.Laura listened silently. It was as if her mind was racing, yet her body was frozen. She had spent so much time in the station, in those cells with Max, hating Travis for what he had done to them. And now, finally hearing the truth from his mouth—understanding how much he had sacrificed, and how much he'd suffered to keep them alive—was like a knife to her chest.She knew it all already, it was all clear as water and easy to deduce through just living in the situation. But it was the first time that she actually heard it, that she listened to the broken tone on his words, on how his lips flinched when he recalled the worst parts. How his eyes shut closed when he mentioned how he came back to the station that morning to find her in her cell, her blood covering the floor after the werewolf Max had lacerated her face. To see her in the bed with half of her head covered in bandages. How stupid had he been!"You wanted to keep them there until you could find that wolf," Lewis said, his voice almost detached. "Hide their car to make sure nobody came looking so as to not to discover Mr. Brinly sickness." He turned to Travis then and his face was impassive. "That was part of your plan wasn't it, Sheriff?"Travis nodded; the movement barely perceptible. His voice, when he spoke again, was hoarse. "I thought it would keep them safe. I… couldn't let them go out there, not with them not knowing about what was going to happen with Max on full moon. But I couldn't stop my family, either—I— " He swallowed, words sticking in his throat. "I kept them fed, and gave them water. I even tried to make it easier on them… but I knew—""If you had let Max and me go, he would have turned in a summer camp full of kids. You saved their lives," she pressed on. Travis looked at her with a sad smile.“I knew it wasn't enough.”Laura closed her mouth, listening to Travis talk about his sleepless nights at the station, doing all that was within his power to ensure that she and Max were safe despite his awareness of losing his grip on the situation day by day. How he sometimes spent the night in that small bunk bed in his office, literally living there with them the first nights so he could make sure they didn't need anything. He couldn't save them—the way he wanted—but he tried. He tried so damn hard.Tears swelled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back; she wouldn't let them fall. She couldn't cry now, not when Travis finally was telling the truth. She had to be strong for him and for both of them.When he finally stopped talking, Laura took over, her voice soft but steady. She described how she had managed to escape, how she had kept Max stuck on the island to protect everybody from the full moon while she hunted Chris. She told how she found the counselors that night, the fateful decision to go to Hackett's manor, and how things spiraled out of control from that point. She described the terror, the desperation she felt when she tried to fight her way through the horror awaiting her in that house.But then she came to the part about the red room, about the cellar, and her voice began to betray her. Her throat closed over, the words crowding in her throat, choking her. She could feel the weight of memory on her, crushing, the redness spreading again in her brain.Travis's hand on hers clamped down, anchoring her. He could tell she was fighting it, and without missing a beat, he took over the story again. He started off where she had left off, his voice low and steady as he related the final moments: the confrontation with his father, the fight with Bobby, the moment he had wrangled the gun from Constance's grasp.Laura didn't need to hear it. But she had to, her hand in Travis' hand, as he made the impossible choice that had ended with a gunshot and blood on the floor. Blood on her hands. But hearing him speak the words, feeling the pain behind them—it made it all too real.When he finished, the room was silent, the weight of their shared truth pressing down on them both.Lewis's face was impassive, though Laura could feel the strain in his posture, the way his eyes darted between her and Travis, weighing."This version does add up with what we found out," Lewis said finally, his voice even. "But there are still some questions." He nodded to the photos scattered on the bed, fingers tapping images of the bitten—those who'd been changed by the moon. "This is bigger than your family. We need more answers.""What's in it for us if we give this information?" Laura asked, her breath coming in heavy swells."We'll get to that at the end, Ms. Kearney. But I first have to know where the first infection happened so we can trace the source."Laura's breath hitched in her throat. There was so much more to say, so much more to disclose. But how much more could they give without everything starting to unravel? How much more before they lost the last shred of control they were holding on to?Travis took a deep breath, his gaze distant, as if remembering something he had buried deep inside. Keeping his gaze low, unable to meet Laura's, he spoke in a quiet tone."It all started at a traveling gypsy fair, years ago, with a special show called Harum Scarum," Travis said in a low, hushed rough voice. "It was Kaylee and Caleb who first saw him—Silas. They were just kids, innocent… curious. The freak show attraction at that gypsy fair had this white wolf, caged up like a spectacle to be gawked at. Only, it wasn't just a wolf. One night, Kaylee and Caleb snuck in after dark. They wanted to free this child from that cage, but then Silas bit Caleb before disappearing into the forest." Travis's jaw clenched, pain and guilt clear in his tone. "It wasn't their fault. They were just kids. But that night changed everything.”He ran a hand across his face as he spoke, his voice dropping further. "Silas got away, and since then, on every full moon my family tried to keep it contained, keep it quiet, but the infection spread. It got worse, more violent, and we lost control.”Travis finished, his words hanging in the air over a sea of long silence. Laura could see, deep within his eyes, the raw regret of years of pain he had endured to spare his loved ones from a fate he himself could not escape.Lewis sat across from them, his face unreadable as he leaned forward slightly. "Where can we find him?"Travis swallowed. "I don't know for sure. He's been running for years, hiding in the woods around Hackett's Quarry. We've tracked him. He always circles back."Lewis nodded. His voice came even, firm. "We'll take it from here.”Laura's heart began to race with the finality of that. She looked at Travis, whose eyes were dark with his own unease. They both knew this wasn't over—not yet."What happens now?”“Now, Ms. Kearney," Agent Lewis began. His voice was calm but firm, his eyes looking first over at Laura, then at Travis. "I remember you got questions of your own.”Laura's eyes narrowed slightly as her mind buzzed with all that was being thrown at her in the last couple of hours: "You said my results from the hospital blood sample show I'm infected. But I was bitten by Max, and he got cured once Chris died. How am I still infected? And isn't this a curse or some supernatural shit? How is this in my DNA?"Lewis leaned back in his chair and settled into a more comfortable position before answering. "No, you're not infected anymore, in a way. It's not a curse, it's a virus.""A virus?" Laura echoed, her voice an inch above a whisper, loaded with confusion and disbelief. She stared at him, trying to catch up. "All this time, we thought it was some supernatural thing. A curse. Now you're telling me it's a virus? Like— an actual scientific thing?”Lewis nodded, his face calm but serious. "Yes, Ms. Kearney. A virus. Not just any virus, it acts like a beehive parasite, infecting hosts with one single purpose in mind: to spread, to survive. It takes over the body and turns the host into some sort of monster. But the biology behind it is real. It's tangible. It's scientific.”Laura's chest tightened at the implications; all this time she had fought this horror, this nightmare tearing her life into shreds, it was something unexplainable, something cursed. Now, here was this agent deadpanning to her that it all was something understood through science. It was more than a riddle written on a piece of paper. "How does that work?" she asked softly, voice steady from the storm churning inside.Lewis leant forward, his hands rising in a deliberate motion, like walking her through a delicate but crucial lesson using them as examples "Think of humans as mirrors," he said, his voice soft, yet lucid. "Reflective mirrors, those that reflect light from one mirror to the others. Think that we all are like one of those but we are turned around, away from the light,” he moved his hands in unison, making them turn to explain the direction of the mirrors. “But sometimes a mirror is born facing forward, reflecting the light— the light of the moon. That's an infected host. When it bites another person, it turns that person's mirror—so they're reflecting the light of that first mirror—passing on the infection. And when the first host dies—the one who was facing the light of the moon—the chain breaks. No more light, no more transformation."He gestured to the DNA results across from him. "But your mirror, Ms. Kearney, it's still turned around. Very vulnerable to a second bite."Laura swallowed hard. "S-so I'm not infected anymore? I won't turn into a werewolf again?""No," Lewis said, "you can't turn anymore. But the infection left its mark on your DNA. If you get bitten again, the transformation will happen faster. Much faster. Do you remember how long it took for you to change the first time, after Mr Brinly bit you?"Laura nodded slowly. "Yeah… it took a while. I didn't turn right away."“That's how long it took your body to adjust, for the infection to take full control," Lewis said. "But now, with your 'mirror' still turned, with your body still infected, if you're bitten again, the virus will take over almost instantly. If you came closer to another werewolf and you got bitten again, you'll transform faster than before. And whoever is with you would be facing two werewolves.”Her stomach churned at the thought. "And Travis?" Her voice snagged. "I bit him too."Lewis's attention flipped to Travis, his interest piqued. "You were bitten?"Travis nodded, his jaw taut. "Just before the curse broke. A few seconds before.”"Your results are clean," Lewis said, flipping through the papers again. "That means the virus died before it could take hold. The timing must have been incredibly close. That's exceptional, we rarely see one of those."Laura exhaled with a pounding heart. It was too terrifying to think that Travis had come so close to being infected. "If it's just a virus, why is it still treated like a ghost story? Why do people still talk about it like it's supernatural? It’s there a cure?”Lewis gave her a grim smile. "Anything that people don't understand gets labeled as witchcraft, Ms. Kearney. Hundreds of years ago, we would have called chemistry 'magic’—potions, elixirs, alchemy. But it's just science. The same thing applies here. We've only just begun to understand what this virus is, how it works. It's not supernatural—it's just unknown. And we are working on that. Slowly.”Laura shook her head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then why doesn't the public know about this? If it's a virus, if it can be contained, why isn't this information out there? People are dying. It could have stopped with a phone call.”Lewis's face darkened. "Because the public can't be trusted with this knowledge. You've seen what happens when fear takes hold. Just look at Salem. How do you think people would react if they knew about this? You really think they wouldn't start shooting their neighbors because someone howled at the moon after a night of drinking?"His words hung in the air like a thick fog. Laura felt her fists tighten down at her sides, her knuckles turning white. "That's—that's bullshit," she whispered, the shakiness of her voice the only indicator of growing anger. "People deserve to know the truth. You could be saving lives.”"And you think mass hysteria is going to save them?" Lewis shot back with a sour tone. "No, it would create chaos, panic. We are dealing with an issue at hand that cannot be handled by the general public. We have already seen what happens when people take justice into their own hands. Infected or not, these people are still humans. We cannot let the population act like vigilantes. That is why we keep it quiet. That is why we handle it ourselves.”Laura's breath caught. Anger swelled high in her chest, mixing with the fear and confusion. She wanted to scream, to argue, but deep down she knew he wasn't wrong. She'd seen what fear did, how people reacted when faced with something they couldn't understand. It didn't make it any easier to accept."We are not perfect," Lewis added, his voice softening up. "We have made mistakes. We didn't realize there was a source in this community until it was already too late. But now we're here. And we will stop this. Because of that, we need to know absolutely everything. We need to find the white wolf—Silas. He's the key to North Kill's spread."Laura nodded. His words finally sank in. Silas, the root of it all, was the key to this nightmare being over. But knowing it didn't really take any of the pain away. And it didn't bring back those who died.“How does it work? How does a body go through that kind of change just from a virus? And how silver is the only way to kill them?" Laura asked, furrowing her brow.Lewis shrugged. "I'm not a scientist myself. I don't have all the answers."Laura grunted, running her hand over her face in frustration and disbelief. Everything felt too overwhelming, too strange—too conveniently easy to understand."So… what happens now?" Laura asked, her voice barely above a whisper.Lewis met her gaze with a stony expression. "Now, Ms. Kearney, we make you two a deal."Agent Lewis leaned back in his chair, face impassive, as the weight of his offer settled between them. Laura's mind began to whirl as her gaze danced between him and Travis, searching for answers in Travis's worn and tired face. She could feel the thrum of her pulse in her ears, her breath coming in short bursts as the full weight of what Lewis was about to offer."So, here's the deal," Lewis started, his voice steady but laced with an unsettling undertone. "We make this all go away. Publicly, at least. We charge Jedediah and Constance—easy to pin everything on the old folks, blame it on a mental breakdown. We have our key witnesses here who can corroborate it,” he made a sign with his hands to both of them. “The public will believe that all this was just some sort of tragic series of accidents because some old country family lost its mind. People love those kinds of stories—easier to swallow than the truth. They will go to a nice elderly psychiatric institution to live until the rest of their days. They will be taken care of, and will be a danger to no one ever again."Laura tensed at the mention of Constance and Jedediah, her fists clenching Travis' hand as rage bubbled just below the surface. She bit her tongue. She wanted to lash out, to tell Lewis that Jedediah wasn't some senile old man who lost his grip on reality; he was a cold-blooded murderer who kept his family's secrets locked away in cages while Constance was just completely nuts in a psychopath sort of way. She said nothing."Robert Hackett would be found guilty as an accessory to his parents' crimes," he began, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he watched their reactions. "But—" he paused, tapping his fingers on the folder in front of him, “we can arrange a reduction in his sentence, factoring in his mental state and his limited capacity to understand the consequences."He let the words hang in the air, gauging the impact before pressing on. “With our intervention, he won’t be looking at life in prison. He likely wouldn’t even step foot in jail," Lewis added, glancing between the two. "We’d see to it that he goes to a quality institution, somewhere he’d get the care he needs. Open visiting hours for family.”Lewis leaned in, his voice dropping a notch, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “We’re looking at three to five years for him instead of the standard five to ten.”Lewis' eyes flickered to Travis, and for a moment, something almost like sympathy swam in his gaze. "Sadly, Sheriff Travis would be obligated to take an early retirement due to the circumstances—with honors, of course. Not our call but its protocol. It will be explained as he's leaving due to the trauma he experienced, making it sound as if he's being lauded for trying to protect the community. And there's already a GoFundMe page to save Hackett's Quarry—people want the camp back. They see it as a staple of the community, and we'll use that to our advantage."Laura felt her heart sink as she processed the words Lewis had spoken. Retire him with honors. What a joke. The system casting him aside like he was nothing more than a liability— too broken to help people. Lewis weighed in, "With the GoFundMe, we can help rebuild the camp. Sheriff Hackett can spend his retirement taking care of the wildlife, maybe even running the summer camp once we refresh its image. We'll be working on a campaign to get people back on board—just an FBI-backed PR effort, really. I mean, who wouldn't want to send their kids to a place run by a 'hero' like Travis Hackett?”Travis stiffened beside her, his fingers clenching on Laura's. She could feel it in the coiled tension in his shoulders, in the weight of his guilt and shame pulling down every fiber in his body. Travis wasn't a hero, not to himself. He'd messed up time after time. He'd let his family hurt people. Let them hurt her. And now the FBI wanted to drag him out in a victory dance.What a joke.Laura's voice was cold, sharp. Take the attention away from Travis before he had a chance to speak. "What do I get out of this?"Lewis leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "You'll get a fresh start. Full tuition paid to veterinarian school, we can help with student loans. And a private dorm, so you won't have to share a room. Plus, we'll make sure you get regular check-ins with Dr. Summers to monitor your health. Your future is secure, Laura. No charges, no jail time. The police will treat you both like survivors—heroes, even."Laura's stomach curled. She didn't care about the money, or the dorm, or even the free tuition. She cared about the strings attached. She could feel them, tugging on her like tentacles drawing her deeper into the web the FBI was weaving around her. It wasn't freedom at all—merely a new method of keeping them under their control.Lewis must have sensed her unease because he shifted slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. "You'll be free of any criminal charges, but there's one condition: you both stay quiet. No talking about wolves, no trying to expose what really happened. This deal keeps you both out of prison, but it also keeps this situation hidden."Laura's jaw clenched a little. She glanced over at Travis, who stared down at the joined hands—their linked fingers—a mask of inscrutability. The weight of the decision pressed upon them both. This wasn't freedom—just another kind of cage.She didn't want to be watched, tracked, tied down by invisible strings. They were giving them money to keep the summer camp, to be able to relocate her into new dorms, pay vet school— that was not from the kindness of their heart. They would know where they were at all times. Giving them free services with Dr. Summers wasn't there just to help; she was there to keep an eye on them, to make sure they kept their mouths shut."What if I want another psychiatrist? What if I don’t like to keep therapy with Summers.""We will provide you with a new one." He deadpanned."What if I want to find my own?”"I'm sure we can help you with that too.""I'm not stupid," Laura said in a low, fierce voice. "You're not letting us go free. You're keeping us under your thumb, making sure we don't slip away. This is just another kind of prison, isn't it?"Lewis did not bat an eyelid. "Call it what you want. But it's the best option you've got.""What if we refuse?" Laura shot back, her eyes narrowing.Lewis's stare went steely. "If you feel this is not reasonable, we have enough to put the Sheriff here away on charges of kidnapping, misprision of a felony, tampering with evidence, and conspiracy to murder, plus I’m sure we can add some physical and sexual abuse to his chargers, since he was very vocal when he woke up after surgery. He won't be walking away from that, and that's how we would keep his side quiet."Laura's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as Lewis continued, "As for you, Ms. Kearney—well, my job is to confiscate evidence, not to reveal it. If you go around talking about werewolves without any proof, you'll appear to be a traumatized girl who lost her mind. Nobody will believe you, and you'll ruin whatever chance you have for a future. That would be in an ideal world. Unfortunately, in your case, you have physical proof," he nodded at her. "It's all over your blood, your DNA. And that proof is what makes this a sticky situation. It's my job to make sure no proof reaches the public, by silencing it or… confiscating it."Her blood ran cold as it dawned upon her like a freight train. They could take her. If the virus was in her DNA, they would take her. One thing would be for her to just appear in the podcast Bizarre Yet Bonafide talking about what everybody would think it’s bullshit, and other is for her to have tangible proof that there is something wrong with her, that something has changed, that there is something that is being kept from the people. She could disappear one day, be locked away in some lab and no one would question it. Nobody would even ask about it because people would suspect she went under the Witness Protection Program and couldn't be contacted, reached, found.
Just another cage.
Laura scowled, irritation rising to the surface. "Why bother answering my questions if you're just going to use it all against me? Feels like blackmail.”Agent Lewis leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Because, Ms. Kearney, if you want information, you're going to go looking for it. And when you do, it's going to raise some flags—flags that neither of us want to deal with. It's better if I just calm your mind now and talk like grown-ups in a safe and secure environment.”He paused, his face firming up a notch. "But you need to remember, knowledge is power. And it comes at a price. That's why they say ignorance is bliss."The room was closing in on her, the walls pressing in from all directions. Laura's chest tightened as panic clawed at the inside of her gut. She couldn't let this happen. She couldn't let them take Travis away. Not after everything. But that meant lying. Hiding. Another cage. No matter what path they took, it came with a lock.Travis's voice cut through the silence, quiet but resolute. "We'll take the deal."Laura turned around toward him, her eyes wide with incredulity, but his were impassive—stoic yet shadowed with something deeper. "We take it," he said again, his voice strong. There wasn't even a tremble, no doubt. His eyes met hers, and in that surcharged second of silence, something silent passed between them. She knew him too well, and saw the war playing out in his eyes. Travis didn't want this deal; he wanted to face the consequences, to accept the punishment he believed he deserved. But he also knew her, knew that if he refused, she'd follow him into the fire without hesitation. She'd confess, take on his guilt as her own, and throw her life away in the process. And that was something he would never allow. His resolve hardened, his jaw tightening as if to physically restrain the words she might try to offer in protest. He was doing it for her. She could see in his eyes, he was doing what he had always done. His situation—even his family situation—didn’t have too much weight on him. He wanted that; prison, punishment —for him and his family— that’s what he thought he deserved. He wanted to pay for what he had done or wasn’t able to do. But they would take Laura. They will make her disappear if they decide to just live with the consequences of their actions. He placed himself between her and anything he saw as danger.He would never let anyone cage Laura Kearney away from the sun again.So they accepted.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After signing the paperwork in their respective rooms, the real weight of it all began to settle into their minds like a fog seeping into every corner of their consciousness. They were free—free for now, at least—but attached to an agreement which would be following them for the rest of their lives. They would never again be able to live without constantly looking over their shoulders, for they were bound by the silent terms that Agent Lewis had written on those crisp white pages. They could walk free as promised, but they were prisoners of the deal they had struck, a deal that in a way was sure to haunt them, as the events at Hackett's Quarry surely would.The trial was yet to come, but its verdict had already been decided, a controlled fall into disaster, staged—managed by the agency. Jedediah and Constance; they would take the full impact of the blame, their lives publicly judged as cruel and tragic. Bobby would be judged as a poor victim of their parent’s manipulations, Laura and Travis would leave the courthouse scot-free, unscathed in the public mind-but not unaltered. Their freedom came at an enormous cost.Laura felt a rising sense of resolve as she left her room. There was so much to do—so many choices to make if she was ever to feel safe in her own life again. She remained silent as she walked down the sterile hospital corridor toward Travis's room, feeling her pulse tick in time with each step. A silent, determined list was forming in her mind. She would immediately delete all her social media the first chance she had; she needed to make sure she remained untraceable. As much as possible. The very thought of anyone, especially some Fed, knowing her every move chilled her to the bone. And she knew better than to think it would end here. There would be a black car, parked discreetly at the edge of her vision each time she peered out the window for the nearest future—the proof she needed. They were free, yes. But they were also watched.It was kind of surreal how casually all the agents disappeared from the area after signing the documents, just leaving a couple of security guards to make sure of their safety and keep the press out of the hospital. The nods, goodbyes to absolutely no one, as if the whole nightmare had been nothing more than a transaction. In fact, they had entered her life as intruders yet would vanish from it like ghosts, faded into the ether air as though the story of Hackett's Quarry was over. A business card as the only memento of their presence. Of course, for them perhaps, it was. Yet, Laura knew the truth—nothing had changed. The nightmare remained. The only difference was Travis and her would bear its weight alone.The hallway continued, quiet and empty, as she reached Travis's room. The beating of her heart increased as she hovered, her hand pausing on the door handle, the reality of their deal still settling like a weight in her chest. She took a deep breath and stepped inside. He was sitting on the bed, his face still pale, his rough appearance standing in stark contrast to the sterile gray room surrounding him. The sight of her seemed to catch him off guard; his expression widened with surprise. They might have stood there for a moment, staring at each other, the silence between them heavy with unspoken tension, thick with exhaustion and relief, and something neither of them dared name. Finally, Travis shifted over, making space on the bed beside him, and wordlessly, she crawled in next to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder as they wrapped themselves in each other's warmth.They didn't say anything at first. She closed her eyes, trying to let the rhythm of her breath calm her, but her thoughts whirled in screaming chaos. It was surreal to be here, at last free from physical chains. They lay there in silence, and for the first time, nobody watched. There were no agents, no officials lurking just outside, no doctors reminding her that she had to leave soon. Travis's hand fell onto her arm, and she became aware of the quiet strength in his touch.Eventually, she opened her eyes, turning slightly so she could look up at him. He looked back, a softness in his face that made her heart clutch. It could not make sense that she should feel this rooted and at the same time uprooted, yet the way he looked at her brought her a fragile kind of peace. And finally, they spoke. Mumbled tones between them as they talked of everything and nothing. Memories of Hackett's Quarry, the shadow of the FBI. They spoke of the future they both wanted, about the life left to piece together in shattered fragments. “Laura.” Travis whispered. She murmured in response, not moving from her comfortable spot. “You’re a woman of science, right?”"It's the second time you ask me that question," Laura snorted. “I think so, yeah. Why?”“Do you believe what they said about… you know, the werewolves being a scientific thing, not some ghost story? I know I asked you before to help me to cure them with science, but I know I was on my last straw at that point and trying to grab any opportunity to have my family back without blood. But now… now it makes me think.”Laura sighed. “I don’t know. It made sense when they explained it, but… damn, they’re the Feds. They’re all about controlling the narrative, so if they did want to cover up something supernatural, this would be the perfect excuse.”Travis gave a small hum of agreement but didn’t respond. He kept mulling it over, wondering about the possibilities, and what that could mean. "You know what's crazy?" she whispered, breaking the silence."What's that?" he said gruffly."I never thought I'd come out of this. I mean, I imagined it, but it didn't feel real, you know? Like, the world on the other side was just some sort of dream," she whispered, trying to keep her voice from choking. "And now it's here, and it feels so—surreal.”Travis's hand drew small circles on her arm as he nodded. "I know exactly what you mean," he replied, the sadness covering his voice that matched her own. "Sometimes… I don't know if I'm still there, and all this is just some twisted version of hope.”She squeezed his hand lightly. "But we're here. We made it through."The weight of her words fell between them, and he couldn't find the words to reply, knowing if he tried, his voice would betray him. They fell into silence again, the soft hum of the hospital filling the air, a pale reminder of the world outside still spinning, as if nothing had changed. In a way, for them, everything had changed.The conversation quieted, moving between heavy topics and light soft jokes—the small attempts at lightening the exhaustion surrounding them. They spoke about the future and the daunting task ahead of rebuilding themselves. "What now?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible."Now… we try our best," he said with an almost absent but intent gaze. "There's the summer camp. The one thing my family couldn't ruin in the eyes of the community, it seems. Maybe it is worth rebuilding. The wildlife around the area has been damaged by Silas too. I can help with turning it into a wildlife center in winter or something like that. I will look into it.”She looked up at him, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "You're going to be a pretty weird camp leader, you know that?"He chuckled low in his throat, the sound rough but sincere. "I'll have to work on my friendly face. Don't want to scare off the kids before the season starts.”They laughed, the shared sound a cut in the weight pressing down upon them both.A doctor finally entered, flashing them an apologetic smile before asking Laura to leave the room while they talked with Travis. She gave him a sad frown before he nodded at her, releasing her from his embrace so that she could leave the room. Outside in the hall, away from his warmth, the sense of isolation began to creep over her again. She felt the fog pressing in, closer and wrapping around her like some kind of invisible chain, holding her fast to the memory of what they'd just signed away.She walked back to her room where her parents stood waiting for her with the same mixture of relief and worry etched across their faces.They spoke softly of her release, news from vet school, and her return to life to which she could hardly imagine. Every word was hollow, their plans like echoes of a life she'd stepped away from years and years ago. Her release, the news from school, the assurances of a future that was hers to reclaim—all of it sounded as if it was happening to someone else. Next morning, as Travis lay in bed, he found himself haunted by the shadows of his family.The thought of the trial still lingered in his mind, a reminder of the destruction he had not been able to stop. His parents, Jedediah and Constance, were now the villains of a horror story, locked away where he could never reach them again. Even Bobby would be taken to an institution, his spirit finally bound forever by the things he had not been able to prevent. The family he once struggled so hard in vain to protect was gone; it remained only as a memory with a bunch of regrets. He had felt himself slipping further and further from the life he knew day by day, slipping into some kind of hollow version of himself, one that was all too real.A knock on the door broke his train of thoughts, and he knew that it was her even before he raised his head. Laura came into the room like a shaft of light in that gray, sterile space, her eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place. She was wearing jeans and a soft blue shirt, and for an instant, he thought his heart skipped a beat as he took her in. She looked… free, full of life—a stark, jarring contrast from the darkness weighing down his own soul.She looked beautiful. "You're being released," he said quietly, managing a small, bittersweet smile.“Yeah," she said, her voice no louder than a whisper. She took a step closer to him, looking straight at his eyes, and he felt the weight of all they'd shared reflected back at him in the depths within the blue of her gaze. The reality of her leaving landed hard in his chest, and it was like he was watching her drift away, even as she stood right there before him."Laura, you're going to be one hell of a vet," he muttered, forcing a smile onto his face."And you're going to be one hell of a weird camp director," she managed to reply, her voice catching just a little as she tried to sound bright.The silence between them grew thick, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Travis looked down at his hands, rough and scarred, feeling the weight of his own insignificance weigh heavy on him."I guess this is goodbye," he whispered, his voice cracking.She stepped closer, closing the gap between them. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his cheek, her touch lingering just a second too long, her warmth pressing against his skin. And in that moment, he could have turned, could have held her, could have told her everything he felt—but he didn't. He couldn't. Because he knew, in his heart, this was the moment he had to let her go.
To let her live her life without him.
"I'm coming back next weekend," she said once she straightened up, her voice steady and not to be denied.He stared at her in surprise. "Wait, what? You’re hours away. You're going back to school—""I don't care. I want to come and see you," she said sharply, her unwavering gaze rejecting any further discussion.He looked at her now, his heart beating painfully in his chest, knowing he could not hold onto her, that he could not stand in the way of her life. "Laura, you don't need me holding you back.”"You don't get to decide that for me," her voice was hard as he felt a surge of pride mixed with sorrow. She held his gaze, her eyes shining with emotion, and he felt a pang of guilt, knowing he'd almost convinced himself he didn't deserve her. But the way she looked at him—her expression full of determination—he felt a glimmer of hope. She wasn't going anywhere, not yet. She was choosing to stay, even after everything that had happened. He sighed very slowly; his fingers shaking as they reached for hers. "You're too good for me," he whispered, his voice shaking."I think I get to decide that too," she whispered back, crushing his hand tight as her gaze never left his. Her lips quivered with a soft tinge of a smile; it was poisoned by pain, though, just as much as the sadness hung inside them both. They were happy in finding each other, yet again, something tore inside them both as much.They stood there, their hands clasped together, the silence between them a taut web of everything they'd endured and all they couldn't find the words to say. At last, she leaned her head against his shoulder, and he allowed himself to realize—if only for the briefest of moments—that perhaps he did not want her to go.They spoke a few quiet words before she hugged him as hard as she could, being careful of his broken bones. Then she was gone out of the room, the door softly shut behind her.Travis heaved a long, heavy sigh as he leaned back into the pillows. He stared at the tiles where she had stood, his heart so heavy in his chest. He did the right thing, didn't he? To let her go, make her have a life, a future without the burden of him pulling her down.But as he continued to stare at the floor, something felt like it just walked out with her. He was utterly, undeniably alone. His brother was dead, as his nephews, his parents and Bobby locked away, imprisoned for life. The family he had desperately sought to keep together, to protect, was destroyed. No one remained—no one except Laura. And she too, with her fire and fierce loyalty, would, in due time, slip through his grasp. Travis raised his eyes and watched the door for a very, very long time after Laura left, the silence of the room sinking down on him like a weight. She had asked for his phone number, but he didn't even have one. His old phone at home, forgotten; he didn't even know his own number, not like he had too many people to talk to. She didn't give it too much importance and still promised to keep in touch, and she would—for a while. He knew that much. The thought was filling him with warmth he hadn't felt in years. The fact that she wanted to keep him in her life, to call, to visit some weekends—it was more than he'd ever expected. More than he thought he deserved.A small smile tugged his lips, the image of her standing in front of him so determined to stay connected, replayed in his mind. He was happy—truly happy—she hadn't just walked out without looking back. She hadn't given up on him, hadn't treated him like the past he feared he'd become.Still, deep inside, Travis knew it would not last. She was going to go back to school, back to her future, a future full of her peers, new friends, new experiences—a world that didn't include him. The pull of that life would eventually take her away from him no matter how much she fought against it now. And when that came, when the texts grew infrequent, when the weekend visits stopped happening, the phone stopped ringing—he would not blame her. He could not. She was trying to rebuild herself, to take control of her life after everything that happened. He knew that. He admired it. Still, for now, he had this. And when she needed him, when the world got too heavy for her on her own or she needed someone to talk with, he would be there, ready to grab her hand if she fell.And when she did finally walk away completely, building a life so far removed from him, he became nothing more than a distant memory, he would gather the pieces of himself off the floor. He'd put them back together the best he could, knowing for a brief moment he had been part of her world. And that would have to be enough. Travis occupied himself with some of the books Laura had left for him, but his mind could rarely stay on the words for very long. He would find himself rereading the same sentence, caught up in memories of her; with her sharp determination, quiet resilience, and random acts of kindness, which always seemed to be there for him. His hand would wander over the pages, but it was like holding her in those quiet, private moments that had somehow come to be the most real parts of his life. He'd look up every few pages, half-expecting her to be sitting nearby, rolling her eyes at him as he turned a page too loudly or muttering something sarcastic under her breath. And the pain in his surgery would suddenly remind him that she was elsewhere—probably getting on with her life as he had wished for her, even though farther away from him.He recovered very slowly since every twitch pulled at the wound. The pain was dull yet there all the time. Bruises still lingered on his ribs, and he was still making those small steps called ‘progress’ by doctors. His ribs ached like some low oar in the darkness, throbbing with every heartbeat—a dull drumbeat reminder of everything he had endured both for his family and for her. The nurses were relentlessly encouraging, bringing him lukewarm meals and reminding him that he was "on the mend," but the recovery felt endless. And tasteless and tepid was the food in the hospital, adding to that feeling of stagnation, the dragging along of days in the haze of unrest and longing.He felt her presence at all times, even though she wasn’t there, as if she had left a piece of herself behind with every object she brought him. The books were hers; and even now, there still lingered a faint scent of her perfume in the room—perfect, small pieces of her that kept him riveted to the ground when the world had spun off its axis. Laura had come into his life like a wildfire, burning down his defenses and leaving him raw but somehow more alive than he'd felt in years.Finally, after some insistence, he'd been able to convince the staff to let him use the small used TV in his room. It wasn't any great triumph, but it was something—a link to the outside world that had been in free fall since the disaster at Hackett's Quarry. He'd grown to dread the news, though—bracing himself every time he turned it on, wondering if there'd be more headlines, more accusations against his family. Today, though, he couldn't help but freeze as a familiar name flashed across the screen."Laura Kearney Faces Media Frenzy After Statement," he read, his voice dancing with curiosity and fear.The hold on the remote tightened as Travis's thumb pressed down, and with a spring in his heart for dread and anticipation, he leaned forward. The screen then cut to Laura, chiseling her way across her university campus, her shoulders were tense, but she walked with a steady stride on her feet. Reporters closed in around her, the endless tide of voices forcing microphones into her space, faces contorted as they screamed out questions in rapid succession. She kept her head down, stoic, but he could feel the tension radiating from her stance. Her jaw clenched, eyes set forward, every muscle in her body strained as she tried to push her way through the crowd."Laura, how about a comment on what happened at Hackett's Quarry?" someone shouted from among the reporters, his voice like a voracious animal scenting scandal. Travis felt his gut twist in an angry surge of shame. They were harrying her, throwing her in the mud on his account.“How involved were you with the Hackett family?" another voice hollered this time, more insistent. Travis felt his heart sink as he could see where this was going, what thread of events they were trying to weave, the story that would no doubt cast him as a villain.And then, the question that sent a chill down his spine, as if it were blood running cold: "Isn't it true that Travis Hackett was complicit in the murders at Hackett's Quarry? He was part of the cover-up, wasn't he? Was him and his brother Chris Hackett involved in the murders of the counselors with their father?"There was a split second of silence, as if the whole crowd held its collective breath, waiting for how she would respond. The camera zoomed in on Laura's face and caught the fiery determination that always defined her. He knew that look, that said she wasn't about to back down. His heart was pounding while he watched, terrified and awed by the force of her anger."You have no fucking idea what you're talking about," she said, the clarity of her voice slicing through the noise like a blade. It was steady, deadly even, and showed no quiver. "Sheriff Hackett is the bravest man I know. He risked his life for me, for those kids. He saved me and got shot for his efforts."The reporters pressed in closer, undeterred by the ferocity in her tone. But Laura was just getting started. She surveyed each of them in turn, her eyes unwavering, her body taut with resolve. "You can sit here and throw accusations, but you weren't there. You didn't see what he did. You didn't see what any of us went through." One step forward, her voice soared, the blaze of her eyes blazed hot. “So, before you ask me about cover-ups or try to paint him as a fucking villain, maybe you should get your facts straight." Travis's heart raced—once more, the intensity of her words filled him with awe and discomfort, because she was defending him, not just quietly or politely but fiercely, with a loyalty he hadn't expected from anyone, much less her. She was there, amidst that storm, fighting for him as no one else ever had. He could feel his ears grow hot, the flush work up the neck, but his heart swelled with something he hadn't felt in a very long time, pride. She was one hell of a fighter, and here she was facing off a mob of reporters like they were nothing.Laura filled her lungs with air. Her chest heaved under the weight of her emotions. "Sheriff Hackett is the only reason that I'm alive right now. You want a story? That's your story."The camera zoomed in on her, capturing every bit of that intensity, the unyielding fire in her gaze. Then, with one last glare, she wheeled on her heel and marched into the building, letting the doors slam shut behind her, cutting off the reporters and their insatiable questions. And they just stood there, momentarily stunned, thrown off balance by the unexpected fury, uncertain of how to react.Travis felt the remote slip from his grasp, his body going slack as he lay back into the pillow. The weight of her words settled over him, warm and heavy, a feeling he wasn't sure how to describe. His ears still burned with embarrassment, but the warmth spread through his chest, easing the tightness that had lodged there since the day she'd left. She had stood in front of the world and declared him the bravest man she knew. She had defended him, risked her own reputation to shelter him from the scrutiny he knew he deserved. And all he could do was sit there, weak and powerless, while she alone stood in the spotlight.A small, worn smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She was surviving. When the press had descended, trying to destroy her, she had stood tall, unbending. Stronger than he could ever have hoped to be, stronger than he could have wished to be."Goddamn it, kid," he growled, muttered under his breath, the barest tinge of admiration shading the words.He reached for the remote, flicking the TV off as he leaned back against the pillows again. For the first time in what felt like days, he felt a sliver of peace, the tension in his chest loosening just a bit. She was out there, facing the storm, but she wasn't crumbling. She had this. She had them both.The blush deepened and his skin prickled with a warmth that he hadn't felt in years. He almost saw her smug expression, the teasing glint in her eyes as she'd walk in next, ribbing him about that. He almost imagined her leaning against the doorframe, crossing her arms with that signature smirk, feigning innocence while watching his reaction.His room door opened quietly, and he looked up, half-expecting to see her standing there. But it was just the nurse entering to check his medication with an expression of practiced cheer on her face. She talked to him, keeping her tone light, but he barely heard her words, his mind still on the image of Laura in that crowd, holding her ground.When the nurse was gone, he let himself fall deeper into the bed, the exhaustion tugging at him. But despite that exhaustion. He had lain awake through so many nights, at the mercy of what he had done and riddled by guilt and regret. And nightmares. Laura had reminded him of something he'd abandoned somewhere along the line—a sense of purpose. A reason to keep fighting, if only for the hope of seeing her again—of hearing her voice—of knowing she was safe.His hand fell to the side table, landing on the book she had left with him. He opened it, the old familiar scent of the pages wafted into the air, and for the first time since she had gone, he felt words sink in—the story unfolding before him. It was not just words on a page anymore; it was a connection, a reminder of her presence; of the life they'd shared, however brief.He read as the hours passed, his mind drifting in and out of the story to memories of her laughter, the quiet conversations they'd shared.And her beautiful blue eyes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On Thursday, Travis's mood brightened-up, quite contrary to the unending dullness of the entire week that had just swept by. Loneliness had sat deep inside, gnawing with every passing hour. Of course, his police team had come around now and then to take his mind off things for some time, but no one of them had filled the emptiness of his day. There was no partner, no empathetic friend, no brothers, no parents, no family. There was only Laura. And she was unreachable, shut inside some classroom, fighting for a future and a new brighter life. But she had promised to come. She had said she’d visit this weekend, and part of him clung to those words like if it was a rope in a cliff. He wanted to believe her— needed to believe her.Friday arrived far sooner than he'd have expected, and by afternoon, he was seated in his hospital room, listening for the door to slid open, for that rush of blue and gold that would sweep in like a hurricane. The image of her, the sound of her sharp wit, the pulse of her energy, had sustained him all week.Instead, it was the nurse with his dinner.He found some interest in another book left by his bedside table, but as minutes ticked into hours, he knew he hadn't turned the last page he was supposed to be reading for ages. His mind had started to wander, lost in the limbo of expectation and dejection. Every sound in the hall would make his heart skip a beat, but it was never her. Rest wouldn't easily come that night. He tossed and turned as much as his ribs let him; the silence of the hospital room seemed heavier than ever.He woke up the next Saturday morning slowly, his eyes scanning the room for any sign that she had been there. But it was as empty as it always had been. By noon, he had stopped checking the clock on the wall, bracing himself to face what he didn't want to believe. Laura wasn't coming. She was moving on.Maybe it was for the best. It was the sensible thing to do, moving on, leaving this mess behind. Hell—she had her whole life ahead of her; vet school, a future far away from this nightmare. She deserved that. He should be relieved. That's what he told himself, anyway. Better this way. She didn't need him holding her back. But as the minutes ticked by, the room began to feel cold, emptier. A hollow ache settled within his chest, and despite everything, despite telling himself over and over again that it was the best thing for her—he realized it hurt. Badly.The relief he tried to force inside himself seemed like a deceit. In truth, he missed her more than he wanted to admit. More than air. Every second without her felt like he was gasping for breath, suffocating in her absence. It made him realize, no matter how much he convinced himself she'd moved on, the thought of her not coming back made his chest feel like a weight was crashing into it. Because he hadn't just been waiting for her to walk through that door. He had been waiting to breathe again. When the knock came, Travis didn't even glance up from his bed. He was used to the monotony: another tray of unappetizing hospital food, another polite nurse making small talk as he tried to ignore the boredom of recovery. Then, through the stale silence, came a voice he had not expected."Don't you look like a ray of sunshine."His head whipped toward the door so fast, he felt the tiniest pull in his neck. And there she was, filling the doorway like she'd never left— Laura , with that damned smirk playing on her face, in jeans and some plain shirt, hair a bit mussed, eyes sparkling with mischief. She looked alive, bright, as though she'd carried a piece of sunshine in with her. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and was balancing two bags of fast food in her hands."Have you lost your mind?" he managed, trying to sound reprimanding, but his voice cracked halfway. He couldn't help but glance over her shoulder as if expecting a hospital staff member to be right behind her ready to confiscate the contraband."Nice to see you too, Sheriff," she returned breezily, striding past him and sliding the door shut behind her with her foot. She let her pack fall onto the chair and held up the bags like some kind of prize, wiggling her eyebrows. "Is that—Tommy's?" Travis asked, his eyes wide in absolute disbelief, recognition of the bags."It sure is," she grinned, kicking off her shoes and plopping down in front of him onto the bed on a cross-legged position next to his legs, like she belonged there, like she had never left but to just grab food from the corner of the street. "Figured you could use a little break from the prison food." She handed him one of the bags. "You can eat solids now, right?"Travis took the bag, his expression a mixture of gratitude and incredulity, catching a whiff of that unmistakable greasy deliciousness that was Tommy's burgers. All of it was so surreal, almost dreamlike. She was here, with him, and in a moment, the heavy weight on his chest lifted."I-I can," he mumbled, shaking his head. "But—Laura, it's a hospital. They don't let you bring food like this."“Oh, please." She rolled her eyes at him, brushing him off, as she unwrapped her own burger. "I'll tell them you needed some 'emotional support' food if I get caught." She winked at him and bit into her burger as if she hadn't a care in the world.“Emotional support," he repeated, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Kid, you're gonna get me kicked out of here.""Well, that just means I'm doing my job right." She nudged his shoulder, flashing him a grin that was so unapologetically her. "It was either this or singing ABBA again over the top of my lungs, and I didn't think you'd like that again."He laughed, unable to help himself. "Thanks for sparing me this time.”They ate for some time in comfortable silence, and Travis was amazed at how quickly she'd put him at ease. The smell of fast food, the greasy taste so familiar—it was like they'd been transported back to a normal world, one where they could sit, laugh, and eat this way all the time."I saw you on the news," he said, glancing up.“Fuck yea, did I look good?” she shot back, giving him a mischievous grin. “I know I looked good.” "Laura…," he started, still trying to process the image of her on TV, of people dissecting everything they'd gone through. He wanted to feel annoyed that she hadn't told him sooner, but the more he looked at her, the more that irritation evaporated.“It's cool," she replied. "I got a call from my lawyer; he keeps babysitting me. Every time I'm saying something, he calls me to remind me 'don't drop the F-bomb on TV’. They said I’m supposed to be a traumatized victim. Fuck that.”Travis couldn't help but chuckle, unable to tear his gaze away. It felt… right, to see her this way, so full of life and fire. She's back, and instantly that weight he'd been carrying on his chest was gone."How's school?" he asked, wanting her to keep talking just to keep listening to her voice.Her face brightened, and she plunged into stories of classes, frog dissections, practice on sheep, the sort of stuff he knew she'd been dreaming of since they met. "They had a wildlife class last month, and they brought in a real fucking baby bear," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Can you imagine? A freaking bear! And then just yesterday, we got a possum, which. Fine, cute, but not exactly a bear, you know? I missed all the fun." She shook her head, mock disappointment evident in her tone. "One day, though. That's what I'm here for.”"Sounds like they have quite a lineup," Travis replied, his gut warming from the inside out. She was happy, really happy. It made him want to smile.She went on and on about her dorm, her professors, and how she hardly spoke with anyone since most people either acted as if she was some kind of survivor or tried to wring out some sort of twisted story from her so they could sell it to the media.“I don't need friends, anyway," she added airily, waving it off like it was no big deal, but he could see that small flicker of vulnerability in her eyes.He wanted to say something comforting, something which could ease that pain, but all he could manage was, "You've got me, if that helps."The look she gave him then was softer, her eyes holding his gaze a moment longer than usual. "Yeah. It does.”A comfortable silence settled over them, and for a second, they were just two people, content with each other's company."Oh! Almost forgot," Laura suddenly said, jumping up from the bed to rummage through her backpack.Travis watched her, heart thumping a little faster than he wished to admit. She turned to him with a small box wrapped in a Paw Patrol wrapping paper, extending it to him with a grin, returning back to bed where she was no mere a minute ago. Travis looked at the pictures of dogs in police uniforms with a raised brow. "What is it?""Just open it, Travs. It’s for you."He unwrapped it gingerly, his hands shaking a little. Inside was a brand-new smartphone in a sealed box. He looked at it, dumbfounded. "You—you bought me a phone?"She shrugged, sipping her drink. "Well, yeah. You said you had an old one that you barely used at home, and you couldn’t even remember your number. I figured you needed something modern, especially since I couldn't have you pretending you don't know how to text me back. I had to get a new one since someone got rid of my old one, I got a good deal when buying two.”“Laura, I really can't accept this," he managed to stammer. "These things aren't cheap. I—I need to pay you back somehow.""You already have," she let him know with a brushing off gesture. "You have no idea how easier life is when you don’t have to worry about tuition or student debt. Besides, now I won't have to harass you for your number every time I want to talk to you." She winked at him, seemingly very pleased with herself. "Mine is in your contacts already."He couldn't help the flush rising up his neck and ears. "I don't even know how to use half of it."Her laughter poured into the room, infectious and warm. "Lucky for you, we've got the whole weekend." She grabbed the phone from his hand and nodded to his side. “Scooch over. I’ll show you how it works.”Travis shifted over, letting her nestle beside him as she opened the box and started going through the phone's features.They sat together on the bed for the whole afternoon, her head leaning against his shoulder as she showed him how to use the apps and download new games and then set up basic contacts. It felt like she'd never left, like they'd never been torn to pieces by the hell they'd gone through.When the nurse came in to scold them for the fast food, Laura barely stirred, just shot her a look that had Travis snickering as the nurse left with a muttered warning. They shared fries and talked, laughing over random memories and joking about Travis's complete cluelessness with the phone.They danced around the heavy stuff—the trial, the deal, the memories of what they'd been through. Instead, they talked about the future: summer camp, renovations being funded by anonymous donors. Travis had his own plans tucked away, things he wasn't ready to talk about yet.The hours slipped away, unnoticed, and as the room began to darken with the setting sun, neither of them made any move. Outside, the world seemed very far away, irrelevant. They were here, in this room, and that was all that mattered.Finally, the evening arrived, and Laura pulled herself out of bed against her will. The hours of visiting were over, and as much as they wanted to stay in this little bubble, the reality wouldn't let them. She had looked at him with sadness and for that one second, Travis had felt a pang of loss.“I'll be here tomorrow," she promised, her lips curled into a soft smile. It was a promise so simple yet, somehow, meant everything.He watched her walk out, feeling the warmth she left behind, already looking forward to seeing her again the next day. The soft Sunday morning dawned, the sun breaking through the blinds of the sterile hospital room. Travis had awakened well before dawn, unable to sleep as thoughts of Laura's afternoon departure weighed heavily on his soul. She'd leave this afternoon to go back to campus—she had a life waiting, school, responsibilities, dreams. Part of him wanted to beg her to stay, even knowing he couldn't ask that of her. He wouldn't. Never.The light footsteps and soft knock pulled him from his reverie, and he sat up just as Laura came in, grinning at him with the same breezy brightness that she'd had the day before. She wore the same jeans and a simple T-shirt, her hair back in a messy bun, and she did radiate that familiar, effortless energy he'd come to depend on."Morning, Sheriff," she said, and gave him that teasing smile that always tugged at his heart. It was as though nothing had changed, as though there wasn't an afternoon looming ahead when she'd walk away for a whole week."Morning, kid," he said, his voice soft, yet warm. He didn't say another word as he drank in the sight of her hair framing her face, that little smirk that pulled at the corner of her mouth. Then he noticed the takeaway paper cups in a cardboard holder. "You bring more contraband today, or are we sticking to the hospital-approved menu?"She laughed and handed him one of the coffees. “I remember how you like yours,” then she left her backpack on the floor and pulled out what looked like a box of donuts, as if she were showing him a bar of pure gold. "You should know me by now. Hospital food's no way to say goodbye." Setting the box on the small table beside his bed, her eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "Figured we might as well make the most of it."Travis laughed, his head shaking. "You're gonna get us both kicked out of here.”"Then maybe I'll finally get you outside," she returned, plopping herself down on the edge of his bed.They relaxed into an easy cadence—unwrapping their breakfast, speaking between bites. She launched into some conservation program she'd been working on, and he could tell by the animated cadence in her voice that she loved what she did, and he listened with a sense of pride in how far she'd come, even if he couldn't imagine himself in her world.But below it, he sensed the melancholy. She needn't say it, neither would he. It was in the pauses between words, in how her smile dissolved just a little too soon, her fingers bunching around the hem of her shirt when she thought he wasn't looking. They both knew it—the inevitability of the goodbye that hovered in the background, looming closer as the minutes ticked by.Travis reached for the coffee Laura had brought him, taking a long sip to gather his thoughts. "You always know how to soften the blow," he muttered, glancing at the donuts with a faint smirk. "You sure this isn't some kind of bribe?"Laura rolled her eyes, grabbing her own donut. "If it were, I’d have gone for something bigger. Like steak, or…I don’t know, moonshine.""Moonshine in a hospital?" He raised a brow, but there was a flicker of amusement in his voice. "What are you trying to do, get me arrested?"She grinned. "You? Arrested? Please, Sheriff, you'd probably talk your way out of it with that 'gruff but charming' act of yours."Travis chuckled, shaking his head. "Gruff and charming? I'll take it."“Maybe more weird than charming, but it works for you,” she teased, taking a bite of her donut.Travis raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Weird, huh? Says the girl who thinks donuts and coffee count as a balanced breakfast.”She shot him a mock glare. “It’s a balanced emotional breakfast, and you’re welcome.”For a while, it was the banter that filled the space between them; the easy rhythm of the words a temporary reprieve from the heavier emotions lingering just underneath. But as their conversation drifted back to her veterinary school, he caught the shift in her tone-the way her words turned softer, less sure, as if she were already grieving the time they hadn't lost yet."So," she said abruptly, turning toward him with a mischievous glint in her eye, "what’s your plan for next week, Sheriff? More hospital food, staring out the window, or plotting your daring escape?”Travis laughed, but the sound was warm and genuine. "Maybe I’ll start with finishing this coffee. After that, who knows? The world’s my oyster, right?""Right," Laura said, her smirk softening into something gentler as she leaned just a little closer. "But seriously, you need to get out of here soon. This place is draining you."He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, the room seemed smaller, quieter. "I'll get out," he said, his voice steady. "Eventually."Laura smiled, but her smile faltered just a little, her fingers tapping the edge of the box. "You know, Travis," she started, more subdued, "you could visit me sometime. North Kill doesn't have to be your whole world."He stared at her for a moment, her words cutting deeper than she realized. "I’ll think about it," he said finally, his voice quieter now, though a small smile tugged at his lips. "Might take some convincing.""Good thing I’m persistent," she replied, her grin returning as she leaned over to steal another donut from the box.As the afternoon wore on, the softening light outside cast the room in a diffused glow that lent everything a poignancy. Stretched out on the bed, lying side by side, Laura rested her head against his chest, tucking her hand into his. He wrapped his arm around her, tracing gentle circles on her shoulder with his fingers as they lay there, drinking in the comfort of one another's presence.Not long after, Travis broke the silence. "You're coming back next weekend?" he asked low, his words thick with a hope he could barely restrain. Part of him hated himself for asking; he didn't want her to feel obligated. But he needed to hear her say it, needed the reassurance he hadn't quite found on his own.Laura nodded against him, her cheek warm on his chest. "Yeah. I'll be back." She leaned in so that her face tipped up to his, her eyes soft but fierce. "I really don’t want to leave.”His throat constricted; the weight of all he felt was almost too much to bear. "I know." He forced a smile, trying to lighten the moment. "But you've got school, a future to get back to. And I've got—well, more hospital food to look forward to."She chuckled, her laugh tinged with sadness as she reached for his hand, squeezing it. "You're making this harder, you know.”He looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know. But you've got a whole world waiting for you, kid. You can't put it on hold because of me." His voice cracked; the emotion slipped through despite his best efforts. "You've done more than enough.”She bit her lip, and her expression was torn, like some inner struggle. "I don't feel that way. I feel like—like there's so much more I want to do, so much I need to be here for." Her eyes searched his, open in a way that made his heart ache. At the emotion in her voice, he pulled her close, holding her tight—as if he could shield her from the sadness he knew they were both feeling. "Laura, you've given me more than I deserve," he said, his thumb stroking her cheek. "You've got a life to build, and I'll be right here when you decide if you want to come back.”She nodded and blinked her eyes, fighting back the welling tears. Laura didn't want to cry, but this— this was different. It was a goodbye neither of them wanted, even when knowing it was only temporary. They just held each other, lying there in comfortable silence, all that they would like to say unsaid between them.In what seemed to be both a heartbeat and an eternity, Laura exhaled a softly whispered sigh. "I really should go before it gets too late."Though she wished she could stay longer, to have more time with him, they both knew that no amount of time in the world would ever be enough.Travis swallowed the ache in his throat as he forced himself to nod. "Yeah. I guess you should."Reluctantly, she sat up, gathering her things, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. The room felt instantly colder, and he steeled himself, forcing a steady expression as he watched her, feeling her absence even though she was still right there.She turned for the door, looking back at him with a soft, sweet, bitter smile on her face. "I'll see you next weekend, Sheriff. And don't you dare miss me too much."He chuckled, though it felt hollow, his voice catching. "I'll try not to. No promises.”In one smooth, impulsive gesture, she turned around and leaned down to kiss his forehead—her lips lingering a fraction longer than they had to, warm and soft. He closed his eyes, setting in memory the touch of her, the warmth she left with her touches.When she drew back, her eyes were sad, but she gave him one last brave smile. "Take care of yourself, okay?""You too."She turned for the door then, her hand catching the handle and finally sliding it open as she stepped out. The door clicked softly shut behind her and Travis stared at it, the silence weighing down on him. The warmth she had brought into the room was gone, leaving him with a far too familiar ache he could not shake. He slumped back amongst the pillows, heart heavy, eyes fixed on the space where she'd stood. And just like that, she was gone.The faintest trace of her still lingered, though—a ghost of her presence in the room, the pillow she'd leaned against still carrying her scent, a mix of something faintly floral and unmistakably hers, comforting and intoxicating all at once. He turned his head slightly, the smell washing over him, his chest tightening as it pulled memories to the surface: her laugh, her sharp wit, the softening of her eyes in those few rare moments when she let her guard down.The noisily ticking clock in this silent room was a steady reminder of her absence. He wished from the bottom of his heart that she would walk back in, make one last sarcastic comment, flash him one last smile. But there was only silence, and the ache deepened, settling into his bones.He missed her already. The hospital room felt emptier than ever that next week; each day bled into the next. Travis had never been one who would dread silence, but now it seemed to swallow him whole. The nurses moved in and out with a precision almost mechanical, offering polite smiles that couldn't fill the growing ache inside him. And so he found himself waiting, anticipating her messages. Laura's texts were few and inane, but color burst through gray existence to animate him in ways he hadn't known he needed. Every text, each "Good morning" or "Look what I saw on campus today" message was the highlight of his day. It almost was comical, how a little thing, how something so simple, could mean so much.The week trudged on, but Friday arrived with a surprised turn. Discharge. This all felt so surreal—strange—knowing he would be out of these walls by the beginning of next week, taking himself away from the life that once defined him. He wouldn't be Sheriff Hackett anymore. The title was all gone, including the badge, and uniform, firearm—fragments of the life which at times gave him purpose and at other times tore so much away. Still, the idea of seeing her the next day, brightened his worldview a little. Saturday arrived with a rare lightness. For the first time in days, Travis found himself glancing at the clock, checking the hallway outside his room for any sign of her. The air was charged; anticipation pulsed with each tick of the second hand. Finally, someone knocked. He did not even try to hide the edge of his excitement; his heartbeat quickened with anticipation as he called to whoever it was to enter.It slided open to reveal Laura, and all at once the whole room lit up. All smiles, she was carrying a bag, a thermos, and her own uncontainable energy.“Hope you're ready for a real meal," she said playfully, her smile brightening up the whole room as she nudged the door shut with her foot.Travis chuckled, couldn't help the warmth seep through him. "You brought food… again.""Of course, Sheriff," she said with a smirk, handing him the warm bag. "Figured you'd be sick of hospital food by now.”“Bless you," he muttered, inhaling the rich smell. It was homemade, if he had to guess. She watched him, her smile knowing, and his chest swelled. She always knew what he needed before he did, somehow.Laura plopped down beside him onto the bed, crossing her legs and opening her own meal with a determined air.The casualness of her presence was a grounding force, as if she belonged there. They ate in comfortable silence, not needing words, simply enjoying the moment. Her eyes sparkled when she told stories from school, laughter spilling out over her stories about her classmates, and Travis got lost in her voice. She made impressions of her teachers, ranted at her least favorite assignments, and grumbled about the sheep she had to treat last week. She had him laughing so hard his ribs protested. And in that conversation, he realized how much he'd missed this simple pleasure of just being in her company. This woman, who had stormed into his life with fierce independence and a quick wit, somehow had become his world.When they finished, Laura leaned back against the headrest of the bed, her fingers drumming against her knee. In the warmth and intensity he knew so well, her gaze settled on him. "You're getting discharged soon, aren't you?" she asked, pulling him from his thoughts. There was hope and melancholy inside her eyes.He nodded, the bittersweet reality of it swallowed down. "Few more days, they say. Guess they think I'm fit to survive outside these walls."Her eyes lit up. "That's great! No more bland hospital mush."Travis chuckled. "Or sneaked-in food. Though, I might miss that part," he added with a smirk."Don't worry, Sheriff, I'll smuggle you food any time," she teased, bumping his shoulder. Still, beneath the playful tone, he thought he saw a shimmer of sorrow in her eyes.The talk quickly veered into more frivolous territory as they joked about the future of the summer camp. "Think you'll be up for a visit at the camp once it's up and running again?" he asked; his tone light, heart heavy with hope.Laura cocked her head thoughtfully. "Are you kidding? I'd love that. Besides, you better make sure they hire me as the camp nurse when I'm done with vet school. You'll have a place for me, right?The words hit him like a punch, both a promise and a reminder of everything that could never quite be. Travis gave a half-smile, his voice a little quieter. "Guess I'll have to talk to the new camp leader about that. But I know a guy that might help."The hours slipped by, fading into evening as they shared little moments, meaningless chitchat, and laughter that was so precious. But there was an unsaid tension between them—the fact that tomorrow was Sunday and that she was going to have to leave again weighed upon him. Visits and texts were comforting, but not enough. Not really.The knock at the door to signal the end of visiting hours brought with it a look profoundly weighty with all that wasn't said. It was then that Laura's hand found his, the squeeze firm, the softness of her smile unrelenting—a wordless vow that she would return.But as she turned to leave, a hollowness had begun to pool in Travis's chest. Her absence, even for a day, was an ache that couldn't be soothed."See you tomorrow?" The words were barely louder than a whisper, the quiet plea weaving through them impossible to disguise."Absolutely," she said, her eyes warm and steady. "You're not getting rid of me that easily, Sheriff.”With a last look over her shoulder, she vanished. The door shut softly behind her, and he was left to the sterile silence. He leaned back, his eyes on the ceiling, his heart heavy with longing and the bittersweet realization that this wasn't forever. But for now, she'd be back tomorrow, and that was something to hold onto. For now, it would do. The skies were heavy with rain on Sunday morning, each drop jostling against the hospital window in a quiet symphony.Travis stared out into the soaked streets where colors once sharp and bright had dulled to a gray beneath endless sheets of water. For the first time in months, he wanted to feel it: the weight and coolness of the rain against his face, the sting of it upon his skin. It reminded him of his childhood in Hackett's Quarry in autumn—of simpler days when life hadn't yet twisted itself into a web of grief and responsibility. He could see it behind his eyes in perfect clarity: the gardens of the house where her mom used to plant her vegetables in summer, the smell of the rain in the earth, how he'd run out, no matter how Constance fussed and fumed, jumping in puddles, laughing as the mud splattered up his legs. It was one of the few things he'd ever loved unequivocally, rainy days when he was nothing but a boy in the world, bound by nothing but his own joy.The memories lingered and he lost himself in them—in the way it used to feel, running wild and free, the rain his only companion. He hadn't noticed the door open, hadn't heard the quiet footsteps padding across the room. It wasn't until Laura cleared her throat that he snapped back to the present, startled at the sight of her standing there—soaked from head to toe. A discarded raincoat on her arms, obviously not much of a wall between her and the storm.She turned back, leaving the raincoat in the chair, a small, amused smile pulling at her lips, though her expression softened at his obvious surprise. She was dripping wet, her hair clinging to her face and shoulders, clothes plastered to her skin. And for one moment, he felt jealousy—she'd gotten to feel the rain, she'd been out there, alive and untethered, in a way he hadn't felt in so long."Morning," he said in a low tone and greeted her. His eyes lingered on her, the dampness that clung to her like a reminder of everything he'd been missing."Hey, Travs, it's really bad out there," she said with a small laugh. "Give me a second." She moved to the tiny bathroom, draining her hair over the sink, droplets pattering softly against the porcelain. When she came back to the room, Travis was still looking at the window, staring out distantly, full of longing and quiet ache.She froze, her heart squeezing at the sight of him. She could read it in the way his eyes flickered at the clouds, in the slight hunch of his shoulders, the one he always carried but never spoke. Slowly, she stepped closer to him and reached out, her fingers grazing his. His hand instinctively closed around hers, anchoring him in the warmth of her skin."Are you okay?" she asked softly, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles.He looked at her—a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if her touch had pulled him from somewhere far away. He nodded, a small smile ghosting across his lips as he caressed her fingers in return. "Affirmative. It's just… it's raining," he said, his gaze drifting back toward the window.They stood like this for a while, silent, the sound of the rain filling in the gaps. She could feel his longing, the bitter-sweet ache that came with old memories, and she held tighter onto his hand to anchor him in the present.Then, suddenly, her face brightened. "I have an idea," she whispered playfully.Laura didn't say another word but let loose of his hand and turned to the door. Travis scrunched his brow in confusion and asked, "What are you doing?"In an instant she was gone out of the room leaving him even more confused. A couple of minutes later he looked around, curious what she was doing, and again the door opened, and there she was, pushing a wheelchair inside."Laura… what are you doing?" he growled. "Are you out of your mind? You know the nurses will have a fit if they see us. Not to mention, I'm sure it's against every hospital rule there is to steal their property."She rolled her eyes, undeterred. "Stealing? This is borrowing, Sheriff. It's just sitting around doing nothing. Besides," she added, lowering her voice with a mock-serious look, "are you going to tell me you'd rather watch the rain from here?"He huffed, glancing back out the window. "You make it sound easy, but I'm not a kid anymore. I know the nurses don't appreciate me breaking protocol.”Laura leaned in close, giving him an exasperated smile. "Come on, Travis. You've been cooped up in this place forever. Think of it as… as a patient mental-health exercise.”"I can't get the bandages wet," he pointed out as a fact.Laura rolled her eyes again and grabbed her raincoat off the chair where she left it when arrived. Despite himself, he chuckled; her words tugged him halfway toward agreement. He looked down at the small rain jacket she was holding—so patently designed for her frame and not his—and almost the ridiculousness of the idea was enough to make him want to try it."This is against my better judgment, you know," he said, trying to keep his voice steady while his resolve fell.She smiled, laying the jacket over his shoulders. "Yeah, yeah. Better judgment never kept you from anything before, right?"With a deep, resigned sigh, he finally nodded, not doing much to hide his own eagerness. "Alright. Just… get us back before anyone notices or else I'm blaming you."Laura removed the blankets of his legs with a swift pull and held the wheelchair firm for him to get up and sit. He complained the whole way, which made Laura laugh with enthusiasm. She pushed him with a satisfied look on her face as they made their way through the hallways like a pair of rule-breaking teenagers.She wheeled him down the halls of the hospital, and a few passing nurses and doctors raised an eyebrow, but Laura didn't let that faze her.At last, they reached the door, and as it opened fully, the scent of rain—wet earth wafted in like a wave. Travis closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent transporting him to memories untold. He could feel the cool droplets hit his face, trickling down his cheeks and soaking into his hair, and for the first time in months, he felt free. The rain fell in light, steady sheets, casting a silver haze over the hospital's courtyard.Laura marched to stand in front of Travis, her own arms outstretched, palms upturned as she greeted the rain with all the warmth of greeting an old friend. Water dripped down her hair, soaked even more into her clothes, but she didn't seem to care; she raised her face into the sky and let the rain trail down her cheeks and neck as if it were the most normal thing in the world. In a few seconds, she was soaked again, her clothes clinging to her as she laughed, spinning in a slow circle to feel every drop. Travis watched her, struck, still tucked under her rain jacket but not really noticing the cover over him.His eyes were on her wholly, on how she danced with such abandon, with such freedom. She seemed to belong to the rain, her laughter mingling with the steady rhythm of drops on concrete and grass. For a moment, he thought about the two of them, all those nights they'd spent locked away from the world, shut off from simple pleasures like this. It was freedom, more than he'd tasted in a long, long time. For him, it was his first taste of the world outside since he'd entered that cage. The rain cooled his skin, each drop anchoring him, and he sucked in, chest expanding with the damp earth smell that permeated the air. He could scent wet leaves and the faint musk of soil and the rain itself, fresh and clean enough that it was almost like it washed something inside him. Laura waited for a moment, catching him in a soft smile. "Feels good, doesn't it?" she said, her voice just a little louder than the rain. And watched him, rain dripping from her hair and cheeks, utterly uncaring about the water soaking her through."It feels—real," he said, in a voice that was touched with wonder. He let out a soft laugh, unable to help it. "God, I missed this.”Laura grinned, still stretching her arms out to the rain. "I thought you might," she said; the sound of her voice was like honey, warming his heart.Laura danced in the rain with abandon, her foot splashing through a shallow puddle and sending droplets flying into the air.She glanced over her shoulder at him, and a playful grin spread across her face. Travis couldn't help but laugh—the pure delight in her was contagious. She was soaked, her hair plastered to her face, her clothes clinging to her, and yet she didn't even care. She looked radiant, alive in a way he's not seen before, letting the rain soak into her bones like it could wash away everything they've endured. Without even thinking, Travis reaches out and let his fingers brush against hers. Laura's hand met his in a gentle, perfunctorily familiar squeeze that sent a flood of warmth through him even in cold rain.Her smile softened and for a long moment they stood there silent but bound, her thin jacket draped over his shoulders while the rain fell around them. It was ritualistic, near sacrosanct, as if the rain itself was lashing them into a common bond—an assurance to walk away from everything that had kept them hostage. Then he saw it—a flicker of something in her eyes, a glint of uncertainty that morphed in the next instant into a strange, fearful grimace. His brow furrowed, concern flickering alight in his gaze. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, but before he could utter a word, she took a shaky breath. “I’m in love with you," she whispered, her voice no louder than the rain, the admission settling softly, almost gently, between them.In an instant, everything around Travis disappeared. The soft patter of the rain dulled to silence, the hum of the cars in the distance faded, and the cold sting of the air evaporated. All he could hear was the pounding of his very heartbeat, ringing in his ears louder and louder, the sound drowning out everything else. It wasn't real. It had to be some kind of dream. Or, worse yet, a nightmare."No—you can't," he stammered, his voice raw. His mind spiraled, dragging to the forefront images he'd tried to bury. "You can't lo— You wouldn't—not if you knew what—what I almost —" The words tumbled, choked, spilling out before he could stop himself. "I was going to kill you," he admitted, the weight of his words crashing down between them.To his astonishment, she did not even bat an eyelid. Instead, a small, knowing smile tugged at her lips, softening her gaze. "Yeah," she murmured, her tone calm, gentle even. "I suspected so."A shiver ran down his spine, a pang of incredulity twisting in his belly. He didn't want to believe she could know a thing like that and not shrink back from him with horror. "How—how could you know?" His voice shook as she stepped closer, her eyes meeting his with steady, almost sad determination.“Because of how you kept telling me you loved me that day,” she said with a soft voice, her eyes on his face as if she could see through every layer of guilt and fear he had to protect himself with.His mind went blank and the memories that had haunted him so long rushed forward. "When?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper. "I-I never said it—" The words fumbled from his lips, but in her eyes, he saw that she knew more than he'd ever wanted to admit to himself.“I understand if you don’t remember, you were having a really bad panic attack," she said, her eyes softening in sympathy. "I don't think you even knew what you were saying. But as soon as you started saying it, I knew you'd come up with some plan you didn't want to follow through with.”He felt himself being sucked back to that night in that red-lit cellar, to that choking feeling of despair as he'd laid on the floor, curled in on himself, broken and lost when the realization of having to kill her crushed over him. His hands shake uncontrollably, his breaths short and strangled. And Laura—she'd knelt in front of him, her presence a quiet comfort, her arms wrapped around him as he'd broken down completely. 'I’m sorry. I love you. I love you. Oh God, forgive me. I’m sorry,' the words came back to him now, raw and fresh. He had buried his face in her shoulder, letting those words slip out, a torrent of confessions he was supposed to never set free.She had known. She had known all along."So that's why you kissed me, why you wanted to—you thought that if you did that I wouldn't—" Words caught in his throat, jagged and raw, as the full weight of her reasoning crashed over him. The thought of Laura believing she had to use her body like some sort of bargaining chip—to buy herself time, to keep from dying by his hands—twisted his insides into knots. His stomach was churning violently, a sickening wave of nausea rising in his throat.He felt it like a blow, the bile of self-loathing burning at the back of his mouth. Was that what she saw in him then? A monster so far gone that she thought a moment of desperation in the bed on the cell was her only chance of survival? His chest tightened painfully, and his hands were shaking as he fought for a steady breath. The memory of her kisses—the softness of them, the fragility—felt tainted now, no longer something shared but something taken under the shadow of fear.
“No.”
Laura fell to her knees before him, eyes wild, and grasped his shaking hand in hers. Her voice was firm, even while it quavered with the tremors of emotional turmoil. "I didn’t kiss you because of that. I kissed you because I wanted to. I don't know how, or why, but I know that I loved you back there, I really wanted for you to come to bed with me, I wasn’t lying, it wasn’t a trick either. When we escaped, I thought that would be it—that the feelings would fade. Hell, we're as different as night and day, and sometimes you drive me up the fucking wall with that sheriff act of yours." A quiver hitched in her lips, a fraction of a smirk breaking through, but her eyes never left his, painfully honest. "But even when I went back to my life, I kept seeing you everywhere I went, couldn't get you out of my head. And yeah, you're older and weird, and you act like a goddamn monk half the time… but I love you, Travis. Seeing you here, seeing you out here in the rain, free—I know it. I know it's real."Laura remembered when it hit her, memories surfacing—small moments that felt too important to ignore, too powerful to shake. Travis had been her only light in that cell, her steady presence when everything else was dark. He had seen her grief, her anger, even the sharp edges of her rage, and somehow, he hadn't turned away. He had stayed instead, listened to her, and understood her in a way nobody else ever could. He hadn't treated her like a monster, even though she killed Kaylee, his niece. Despite everything, he had looked at her as if she was still human, still mattered, still somebody worthy of protection.And he had fought for her—when it hurt, when it meant going against his family—because she mattered to him. He'd sacrificed his peace, his life, his own family, just to keep her alive. In that cold basement, he had shown her she wasn't alone, that there was someone who cared enough to stand beside her, even when the world turned its back.That was the moment she'd realized she had fallen in love with Travis Hackett— with a man who had chosen to lose everything just to save her.Travis shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair, jerking his hand back and letting out a shaky laugh. "You think that's it? This… thing you feel for me?" His voice had cracked, a little too loud. "Laura, come on—you're still in shock from all that trauma. This isn't—it isn't real. You're attached to me because of everything we went through. I was there to help you, that's what you're feeling. It's just the survival instinct kicking in.""Don't you dare," she hissed, her jaw clenched as she glared up at him. "You don't get to tell me how I feel. Just because you're scared shitless doesn't mean you get to decide for me." She yanked herself closer, staring at him. "I know how I feel, I'm not some clueless scared kid. You already lost everything to save me. Don’t lose this too."He turned his face aside, grinding his teeth as his mouth twisted into a grimace of pain and frustration. "Laura, stop it," he whispered in a raw voice. "Stop fooling yourself. You went through hell. You're still going through it, and you've latched onto me because I was the only person around. When you go fully back to your real life, you'll see you don't need me. You'll wake up one day and realize you were just… grateful. That's not love.” She rolled her eyes, her hands clenching onto the armrests of his chair so tightly her knuckles went white."So that's it? You're gonna chalk everything up to gratitude? You think I'm here just because I owe you or some shit like that? " Her voice was fierce, but there was a tremor beneath it, an ache that cut straight through him. "Well, fuck that, Travis. I know what I'm saying. I know what I feel. You're the one too goddamn scared to admit it." He drew in a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his voice came out barely above a whisper. "You don't know… you don't know half of what I've done, the things I've been willing to do." He swallowed hard, forcing himself to look her in the eyes. "I nearly killed you, Laura. I thought about it in that damn basement, thought a mercy killing for you would be the end. I keep having nightmares of my hands around your neck. I am the reason you got locked in that cage, barely surviving for months.”"Yeah, and you're also the reason that I'm still here," she fired back, her voice trembling. "You kept me going. And it's exactly for that reason that I'm here, Travis. I'm not looking for an easy life. I'm here because I know who you are, and none of it changes what I feel."Travis shook his head, looking away as his voice cracked. "Damn it, that's not love, it's gratitude! This… this isn't right. I'm too old for you. I'm stuck in this place, and you're just starting your life. You don't need me dragging you down with all this."Her face softened, but the steel in her eyes remained. "Then I'll drag you up," she whispered fiercely. "I know you are a good man. I know you think you're not worth it, but you are."His face twisted, and for a moment his eyes flashed with pain. "And in a year?" he managed. "When the trauma's worn off? Or when it finally dawns on you that I'm nothing more than a goddamned relic? When you realize you’re not in danger anymore and don’t need me to keep you safe. That you don't need me for anything. What then?"Laura threw back her head and let out a low, bitter laugh. She stood up, turning away from him for a moment. When she turned back to him, her eyes flashed with an angry light. "Jesus Christ, Travis. If you're just trying to scare me off, it's not working. I'm not some fragile girl you need to protect, and I don't need a damn thing from you except you."He flinched under the weight of her words, dropping his gaze and avoiding hers as his hands flexed and released upon the armrests. "I'm a mess, Laura. A broken, washed-up retired cop. You deserve someone who can give you a real life, a future. Not this… wreck. My life is just ending when yours is just starting."“Bullshit," she said in that flat voice of hers, the words slicing through his defenses like a hot knife. "You keep saying this crap to push me away, but I'm not going anywhere. I don't want some perfect guy with a clean slate. I want you.”Travis exhaled a long, shaking breath; his chest heaved. The ache inside his heart screamed louder, ready to tear him apart. He wanted to believe her, to reach out and pull her close to him, but every instinct was screaming at him to keep her safe, to push her away.“You’re too eager to frame my feelings for you to trauma, what about you? Are you going to tell me you don’t love me? Now? Are you really going to look me in the eye and say it?”“Laura…”“Look at me!” he raised his eyes after the loud bang of her voice. “Do you love me?”
Yes.
The word reverberated through his whole being—undeniable, absolute. It wasn't an answer, but a truth seared into the very core of his soul. Fire was running in his veins, and the air was heavy around him, smothering—the weight of this moment crushing the world around them. There wasn't a single universe, a single path, a single version of himself that didn't love her. Every decision, every step he had taken had led to this, and there was no going back from it."I… can't," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I can't give you what you deserve, Laura. I can't… I can't be what you need."Laura's face gentled, her eyes clouding with a touch of sadness. "Maybe you don't have to be," she whispered. "Maybe I just need you to be… you.”He shook his head, looking away, his voice thick with regret. "I can't do this. I just… I can't. Take me back to my room, please.""Travis—""Take me back inside!" Her face fell, like a razed building, the hurt in her eyes so raw and real that it nearly shattered him, but she nodded in a slow motion, her voice barely above a shaking whisper as she spoke. "If that's what you really want.” Laura's shoulders sagged, her heart breaking at the rejection hanging between them. She swallowed hard and, without a word, pushed the wheelchair to help him back inside. The silence was deep, thick with everything they hadn't said.Her hands were firm yet gentle as she guided his wheelchair back through the sliding doors, pushing him along the corridor and into his hospital room. When they arrived, she took the rain jacket off from around his shoulders and looped it on the back of the wooden chair in silence; her fingers caught on the material, as though that was the only thing anchoring her to this moment. She helped him out of the chair and into the bathroom for him to change before he got back into bed. Her touch was soft but determined, almost as if she feared he would pull away again. Travis wouldn't look at her, staring straight into the floor, the silence between them an empty well. She pulled the blankets up to his chest after he settled in, ironing it out with the same intensive delicacy, every wrinkle smoothed out over a wound neither would ever talk about.She stood beside his bed for a moment, her hand laid on his arm—a contact gentle and painfully intimate now that the truth was bare between them.But he said nothing, never even looked up.The silence was suffocating. Finally, Laura cleared her throat; her voice was low, a quiet resignation. "I think… I think it's better if I leave now." Her voice faltered and she forced a small, brittle smile. "We probably need some space to think about this."Travis barely nodded, his gaze fixed on some far-off point—somewhere beyond the walls of the room, maybe somewhere only he could see. So still, so distant, it was as if he'd already begun pulling away from her, piece by piece. She took a shaky breath, stepping back, feeling the weight of his silence pressing down on her.“Take care of yourself, okay? I’ll see you soon," she said softly, her voice barely audible over a whisper. She wanted to reach out—to touch him that one last time—but her hands hung to her sides, quivering slightly. What was the point? He was already halfway gone. With one last, lingering look, she finally turned and walked toward the door after gathering her belongings, her feet heavy and reluctant. She paused at the door, grasping the doorknob and looking back a final time. He didn't move. Didn't even glance in her direction. The door closed with a soft click behind her, and the emptiness of the room seemed to expand, swallowing the faint trace of warmth she'd left behind.Travis lay still, staring at the ceiling, his chest tight, the ache in his heart spreading like poison. He heard the echo of her footsteps down the hall, growing further and further away, and he clenched his fists, willing himself to be grateful she was gone, that he'd done what he thought was right. A soft chime cut through the silence, and he glanced up at his phone on the nightstand. His heart clenched as he saw her name illuminate the screen.
‘When are you getting released? I can drive you home if you can wait till the afternoon. My class schedule will be fine. Just let me know.’
He read the message, and then read it some more, each word cutting deeper than the last. He had been so certain that she would let him go—that she would walk out and onward—and yet, here she was, trying to stay, trying to find a way to be there for him even after he'd pushed her away.Clearing a space in her life for him, making room in her world for someone like him.His thumb hovered over the keyboard, his heart heavy with the weight of everything he couldn't say. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to pour every ounce of feeling into a reply that would let her know just how much he needed her, how much she meant to him. He wanted to type the words he'd carried in his chest for so long: Please, I'm sorry, come back. To tell her she was, without a single shred of doubt in his heart or his mind, the love of his life.He wanted to say that he couldn't fathom loving anyone else, not now, not ever; that if this was his last chance at love, then he would gladly carry the memory of her blue eyes, the sound of her laugh, the feel of her hand in his, with him into the afterlife. That he'd die content knowing he loved her and that, for a moment, she had loved him too.But he could not. He had been ready to be her friend, her support, during this hard time that was the recovery—the overwhelming change from being in a room with only one person for months to just being alone in a world that would treat you like a victim. Or a villain. He was willing to be her rock, to be the place where she could sit and take a breath before extending her wings again and fly, fly far away. But what she wanted, to filth her with his touch —with his feelings— after what they had gone through, to have him whole even if short lived, wasn't something he could give her. The media would tear them apart, people would not understand it. And one day she would wake up in their bed, in a home they build on trauma and realize she had been all wrong. That it wasn’t what she thought it was. That she needed to go. He knew he couldn't be what she needed, that holding onto her would drag her down. With a heavy heart, he switched off the phone, the screen going black in his hand, taking the last trace of her with it. The room felt so empty, the quiet pressing down on him like a weight he could barely bear. It was a loneliness of another kind, heavier, more gnawing, a hollow chasm gnawing at his insides. It was worse than anything he'd felt in that cell, worse than any of the nightmares or regrets which haunted him.It was a kind of emptiness that went beyond loneliness.He felt he lost a part of himself he would never see again.But deep inside, in those dark, most vulnerable corners of his heart, he knew this was the way it should be. This was best for her: she would go back to her life, find happiness, freedom—everything he could never give her. She'd be better off without him, he told himself, clinging to that bitter comfort like a lifeline.But it hurt. God, it hurt more than he'd ever thought possible.He closed his eyes, the faint memory of her laughter echoing in his mind, the way she'd danced in the rain, carefree and alive, her hand in his. He could still feel the ghost of her touch, warm and reassuring, grounding him in a way he will never feel again. And now it was gone. And for the first time, he felt as if he were dying, losing the only thing that ever had made him feel alive.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The first thing Travis did when he got to his small home in town from the hospital was to shower and shave. Hot water washing over him, cleansing weeks of grit and the weight of everything that has happened in the last couple of months. The man that left this house was completely different from the one that came back. It felt like a luxury he hadn't allowed himself to miss. Running the razor over his face, he saw himself again—clean shaven, like he used to be. It was a small comfort, but one he clung to. For a moment, he felt like he stepped back into the life he'd had before, even as everything else around him had changed.Despite these small comforts, his first days back home felt surreal, as if he moved through a world which was unfamiliar and no longer quite fit. He did all this with an unsettling numbness, his mind too full and yet too empty. To go back to his little townhouse, which was now really empty of all what made it a home, reached a hollow effect, since the space had once been filled with good memories of his family and responsibilities. Now it was a skeleton of life, one he barely recognized anymore. Every time he glanced at the phone that sat on the kitchen counter felt like a pang in his chest as a vivid memory struck him of Laura's last message. But he kept it powered off, telling himself he did this to give Laura some space, to give 'himself' some space.He had spoken briefly with Bobby since returning home, extending to him the courtesy of a phone call to let him know he was alright. The conversation had been stilted between them. Neither of them was very sure about what to say after all that. Bobby could stammer over a few words, reassuring, yet not able to keep from between them the residual guilt and sadness. Travis kept it short because he knew as glad as he was to be reunited with his brother, he wasn't ready to face rawness regarding their shared history just yet. He hasn’t tried to contact any of the rest of his family. The thought of it seemed almost impossible, each imagined conversation bringing an ache he wasn't ready to confront.Only a week later, his retirement party was scheduled at the station. His former team had organized a small gathering in honor of his years of service, though Travis himself barely felt up to attending. It wasn't out of want so much as obligation, as he was uncomfortable with the way his fellow officers looked at him—either with pity or forced admiration. Denis, his old partner, had been there, the quiet sympathy in his eyes as the only that understood the weight Travis carried. The speeches were short, and the toasts forced, it would seem, as though everyone could feel the fracture in the air. There was a small spread of refreshments, a banner that read ‘Happy Retirement, Sheriff Hackett’ thrown together hastily by the station's secretary, and an uncomfortable round of applause as Travis accepted his plaque.This ‘celebration’ hurt, only reminding him of what he had lost. He sat in a daze, staring at the plaque in his hands, feeling the sting of irony very sharp; he'd spent his life protecting people from the kind of monsters his family had become, and now here he was, being honored for it as if it had all been routine. He slipped out early from the party, an intruder into his own life.He fell into a weird routine back home, throwing himself into preparations for the renovation of the summer camp lodge. He worked with contractors, poring over blueprints and discussing repairs to the lodge's broken infrastructure, making sure everything would be ready to hold up to the campers' next season. The work kept his hands busy, filling the hours with something tangible, something he could control. The day might have been like any other, it was just a shift from one task to the next, never truly living the present. He kept his mind fixed upon the practical, the concrete, without permitting his mind to form an image that would slip into the past or towards people whom he shouldn't let himself think about.Morning after morning, Travis got up early, enjoying the ritual of making a light breakfast—eggs and coffee— and sitting alone at the kitchen bench. He'd stared out the window as the first light of dawn filtered through the trees. The loneliness was thick, every moment of quiet a reminder of all he'd pushed away. After breakfast, he'd head over to the campground, meeting with the contractors, even sometimes a volunteer from town. They reviewed tasks, set goals, and mapped out the day's progress, but once the meetings were over and he was left to his own devices, the emptiness crept back in, filling the quiet spaces he couldn't avoid.On weekends, when the summer camp was quiet from contractors, he often found himself walking the trails surrounding the camp—looking for areas that might need attention, but mostly he just wandered. The towering trees, the now-familiar sounds of birds chirping, and the occasional rustle in the underbrush brought him small comfort, as if he returned to something solid, something he could understand. Yet, even here, memories haunted him—fragments of laughter from old campfires, echoes of his family's voices from days when they'd shared, keeping the camp alive. He'd catch glimpses of the lake now and then, now clean and without shadows of the Hackett’s past underneath its waters, but the memories would come flooding back—all the people he'd tried to help, all those lives destroyed on his watch. The guilt hung heavy on him, followed him down every trail, his footsteps echoing ghostlike through the trees.At night, his house was all silence. He spent hours reading, working his way through the books Laura had left behind, spines creased and worn from her hands. He told himself he was just filling the time, but every word brought a strange ache, a reminder of her presence, the life she'd brought with her. In rare moments of quiet, he sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over the powered-off phone that still held her last message. He'd pick it up, turn it over in his hands, his thumb hovering over the power button, tempted to turn it on just to see if she'd sent anything else. But he set it back every time, convincing himself that he'd done the right thing—she needed to move on, to live a life unencumbered by the darkness that swallowed his. He'd already taken enough from her. To take her future would feel like stealing a precious gift that was never meant for him.In a way, he felt like he was punishing himself by keeping his phone off. Penance, the only thing he could do to make up for everything he was unable to take back. But then nights would pass, him sitting in the dark, and the loneliness just weighed upon him. He lay staring at the ceiling, the quietness around him as thick as the cellar walls. He wondered how much longer he'd keep going like this, stuck between the life he'd lost and the life he couldn't allow himself to have. Days blended into days; each one was just a quiet hollow echo of the last.But it wasn't all boredom and routine.Travis had a secret task, one he'd undertaken on his own volition, without anyone asking or telling him to. He knew the FBI had sent teams to follow up on Silas or any lead of him after the incident. However, that did nothing to assure him; it was in his blood to finish things himself, to be sure it was indeed over. Travis couldn't find rest until he saw for himself that Silas was dead, and the werewolf's howls would never echo under the next full moon. The problem was, he'd lost his service weapon when the FBI's investigation pulled him from duty, ‘retiring’ him under circumstances he could not contest.Moreover, as a suspect in possible ties to the incidents at the Quarry, the police had not extended him the privilege of retaining any weapons, and they had cleaned every firearm out of the family home—cataloging and testing each one for possible involvement in the attacks. He knew he couldn't just walk into any store and buy a gun, not with his name under scrutiny, and his face splashed across the news as a suspected accomplice in some kind of ‘cover-up’. Even if he somehow passed the background checks, no agency would allow him a license given his recent psychological profile.But that didn't mean he'd given up.He started working his way backward through his family's moves, visiting all of the old hunting stashes his brothers and him, or his dad, had prepared so long ago—the places his family pulled out on rainy days and hard times, some out in the woods, some under old storage sheds. The FBI was good, but even they had to miss a stash or two in the more remote spots, the places only his father knew about. He tried to avoid the house. He hadn’t even dared to put a step closer in that direction, focusing his attention on the hunting staches outside the area. Four tries later, he finally came upon an old double-barreled hunting shotgun that was tucked inside a forgotten metal case buried beneath years of fallen leaves and dirt. The gun was old—rusted over from years of neglect—but Travis didn't let that stop him.He took it home and set about cleaning the barrels, carefully oiling the mechanism. This shotgun belonged to his grandfather; it was old, weathered, heavy, and for sure not built for such a purpose as killing werewolves, but at least it was something. After all, he didn't need a weapon for an all-out hunt. He just needed to be sure—to confirm that Silas was gone for good, that his nightmare had finally ended. He gathered up what little silver he had remaining, grabbing every last piece from trinkets and bullets he'd once stored in his garage. It wasn't much, he knew, but perhaps it would be enough to see the task through, if it came to it. This was the last duty, and he'd finish it—even if it were just an assurance: a guarantee his family's legacy wouldn't haunt the next generation.Most of all, the FBI might still be out there looking for Silas, and they might tell him to leave it to the professionals. But they hadn't lived this nightmare in such a personal way. They didn't know what it was like to hear those howls at night and wonder if his family's curse would find a way to keep coming back. And so, with an almost antique shotgun and a few slivers of silver, Travis armed himself for one last hunt—the final penance, the only solace to be found. That night, he drove down the winding roads with but one destination in mind.The full moon was overhead, bright in the Wednesday night sky, almost taunting him with its timing. Travis's chest tightened as he veered onto the familiar road; with each bend, old memories assailed him. This was the road where he saw her for the first time. He pulled over—relieved, annoyed—the place was deserted. There wasn't a car in sight, and even the sky was thickly obscured by clouds, blocking out the moon. Not that that would hide what he had come out to do tonight—his final act. There was no more werewolf blood to offer protection; the FBI had siphoned off all his stashes. He was down to his old, trusty shotgun and the few silver shells weighing down his worn-out brown leather jacket pocket.The rain had started again, bringing along with it the chill that gnawed deep into his bones. There was just this one memory, which did not leave him alone—the image of her dancing in the rain outside the hospital, laughing, free. He swallowed the feeling and stepped on into the woods. He walked for what seemed like hours, moving deeper and deeper, his boots sinking with each step in the muddy ground as he pressed on.Somewhere far away, wolves howled in mournful tones, their voices too far off to pose an imminent danger, yet he shivered all the same at the sound of their cries. Finally, he found himself at the site of the burnt skeleton of an abandoned gypsy fair: splintered booths and blackened beams of wood stood like sentinels, gauntly reminding him of what once was here. Only shadows everywhere, distorted by the full moon peeking through cloud cover, casting an eerie light upon blackened wood and rusted metal frames. The old rags of a gypsy fairground lay as a skeleton left completely to the reaches of nature reclaiming it.Weeds had forced their way through the cracks in the ground, their tendrils crawling over the dilapidated structures. Moss was growing on the fire-scorched wood, hanging in weird bunches, gentling the ugliness of it; beneath his feet, snarled roots through the broken artifacts and shattered glass, rusty metal edge poking out from under the mud and moss, remnants of what once had been a noisy, chaotic place. The flashlight tied to his shotgun swept across remnants of a forgotten world: old posters, tattered and faded, plastered across half-burnt booths advertising the wonders of witchcraft and charms. The first twisted iron sign hung barely by one strand, its letters indecipherable under a mass of grime; each step revealed more broken glass crunching beneath the feet. Small trinkets and charms—cinders missed, yet dulled by time—were thrown across the earth like broken promises.Travis stopped, his light falling upon a wooden body that was once a carriage. Bright and intricately painted once, now it sat askew to one side, half-consumed by vines, rain dripping from the ornate sides, pooling in cracks and grooves. It was thick with silence, almost incontinently so, broken only by the slight patter of rain on wood, an intermittent groan of old beams shifting in the damp night air, and a low, far howling of wolves. His shotgun continued steady in his hands, finger brushing against the trigger as he scanned every shadow, every creak of wood.He knew Silas could well be out here, drawn back to the place he'd once called home. Travis took another step, mud sucking his boots down as he passed another burned stall; the charred wood crumbled beneath his touch. He was so lost in his head that he didn't even realize where he'd been going until his back came across something solid. Solid and warm. With a start, he turned, shotgun raised, to find a small figure standing just feet away. The figure spun around, two small but wickedly sharp metal axes held at the level of her eyes, ready to strike.
Laura ‘Fucking’ Kearney, the werewolf hunter.
"Laura—" he huffed out, his mind hardly processing the view."What the fuck are you doing here?" she snarled, eyes narrowing as she took him in, clearly just as surprised.The rain dripped down their faces, tangling with the tension between them. She was soaked through, strands of her hair had come undone from her ponytail and plastered against her forehead, her expression as fierce and determined as it had been the day she'd come for him. She was all in black and long sleeves, trying to preserve the heat and dryness out of a place that just wasn't making it very easy. She looked up at him with a mix between surprise and frustration but mostly annoyance, like he was the last person she wanted to see in these woods."What am I doing here? What are you doing here! It's Wednesday! You're supposed to be on campus" he shot back, voice an edgy concoction of irritation and incredulity."It's full moon," she growled, the words short and sharp. "I don't trust those dicks from the hospital. I had to make sure." Her eyes flashed, and she cocked her head at him, challenging. "You'd have known if you kept your phone on to read my messages."Travis winced at the accusation, taken aback, and was unable to speak for a moment. "You don't even have a weapon—what are those?" He nodded toward the axes in her hands."I don't have any guns lying around and it's not like I can just waltz into Walmart and grab some, so these are the next best thing I could find. Got them online," she muttered, turning the handle, so he could see the silver glinting off the edge of the blade. "There's a whole community of goths who want to protect themselves from supernatural shit—or so they think. Silver-made." Then she looked at him, "And what about you? You still have a broken rib, using a shotgun will probably hurt like a bitch.""I'm fine." He looked at her, unable to mask his incredulity. "You can't be here."“Well, that's too bad because you can't fucking arrest me now, and I'm not going anywhere, so suit yourself." The axes shifted away from him, her back a dismissal that stung.“It's not safe if Silas is still alive. I don't have any blood to hide our scent, and you aren't fast or strong enough to kill anything with those,” he said, voice dropping in a poor attempt to steady her, to reason with her.She stopped, rigid-shouldered, and jammed the axes into the ground. She reached into a little pouch at her side and pulled out a couple of small objects. She smashed them together in her hands to make a thick pulp before marching right up to him. He backed up instinctively.“Relax, dude," she grumbled with a scowl, her eyes rolling as she began to rub the substance across his face. The pungent floral smell hit his nose instantly."What's that?" he asked, eyeing her warily as she wiped her hands onto his jacket before washing them in a puddle, clearing any residual scent from herself."Wolfsbane," she replied nonchalantly before reaching for her axes and turning away from him."Hey, wait! You can't just go off by yourself!" he insisted, taking a step toward her.She spun abruptly back to him, raising one ax at him and staring through the rain. "You're not fucking anybody to tell me what to do."His jaw clenched. "You know what the FBI said at the hospital. If you get bitten again, you will turn faster. And if Silas is alive and you do not have any silver bullets, you are sitting ducks!""Then stay the hell away from me," she snapped coldly; her tone didn't falter as she continued on her way."Laura—" his voice weakened, pleading to get her to listen.“Shut the fuck up! " She yelled, spinning on him, the words raw, unfiltered anger that made him flinch. "You have no fucking right—no fucking right to tell me what to do with my life. You made it clear when you shut me out. So leave me alone.”“It's dangerous," he said, his voice low, as he stepped forward against the ache her words left in his chest."I'm done listening to you." She whirled back toward the forest once more, her movements sharp, deliberate.A hollow feeling settled inside him as he watched her go—torn between letting her walk away and risking everything to keep her safe."Laur—"Just then, a low, distant rustling caught their attention, freezing them both in place. The sound of snapping twigs and a heavy breath echoed from the darkness beyond, making the hair on the back of Travis's neck stand on end."Did you hear that?”Silas crouched above them upon the remnants of a crumbling gypsy carriage, snarling, his body shifting, flexing as he watched them. His yellow eyes glowing with malice, muscles ripple beneath his filthy white hide. He was the worst nightmare they had ever made flesh, and he wasn't going to give them one second to breathe."They're fucking useless—" Laura spat, all but bellowing as she plunged at him, axes raised."Laura, wait—damn it!" Travis spat, tightening his grip on his shotgun as he gave chase, each jarring step a pain in his cracked ribs. Silas's eyes flashed briefly to him, attention darting to the larger threat with the torch. But then Laura's shrill whistle parted the din, hauling his head about."Hey, piece of shit, come and get me!" she yelled. Silas didn't waste any time. In a blur, he launched himself at her, claws swiping out with deadly intent. Laura gritted her teeth, blocking his initial attack with the axes, sparks flying as claw met blade. But Silas was stronger and quicker, wrenching her off balance with an almost lazy swipe to send her crashing into the mud. He sprang on top of her, fangs ready to taste blood.Travis lifted the shotgun, desperate for a clean shot, as Laura and Silas were locked in a frenzy dance to see who would leave alive. Her figure twisted as she dodged a strike meant for her throat and up came her ax to catch Silas across the shoulder in a glancing blow that staggered him backward and left him dazed.Seizing her chance, Laura reached behind her and yanked a knife out of the sheath strapped to her back. A savage thrust drove it deep into Silas's side. The blade bit into his ribs, and he howled in fury, stumbling as he raked his claws at the handle protruding from his flesh. Blood poured from the wound, a dark stream mixing with rain and mud.There was a scream followed by thunder the instant the knife hit the white wolf. Like a terrifying presence agonicing after her injured child. "Laura, get out of there!" Travis shouted, his ribs screaming in protest as he raised the shotgun. Travis shot at the same time Silas stood up and retrieved to the woods. Too far for the bullets to do any real damage.Mud clung to Laura’s hands; her face was streaked with dirt and rain as she watched how the beast disappeared into the darkness. She cursed under her breath, painting with exhaustion. Travis stepped closer to her, extending his hand in an attempt to assist her in rising. "Don't fucking touch me," she snarled, steadying herself with a quick movement. She picked up her discarded weapons and sprinted after Silas.Travis swore under his breath, but wouldn’t let her go alone. Every breath a burn of agony in his protesting ribs, he followed, dodging the decrepit remnants of the carnival, old rain, soaked wood creaking ominously around them. As they rounded a corner, Silas lunged from the shadows, claws bared, eyes blazing with fury. Travis barely had enough time to react and raised his shotgun just in time for it to block the oncoming strike. The impact surged through his body; his rib cage flared with pain, but he gritted his teeth and held his ground.Silas snarled but something made him stop; he seemed to scent him, just to make some kind of grimace, and moved back.
Wolfsbane.
Whatever Laura had smeared on his face must have disgusted the animal enough not to want to get within smelling distance of him. This was his chance. But before Travis could get another shot off, the werewolf twisted around, launching himself at Laura. She met him head-on, her axes upraised, but he was too fast. His jaws snapped forward, sinking into her forearm. Her scream cut through the rain-soaked night, raw and pained. Travis's heart pounded, his shock so real that he felt frozen, but then he forced himself to move. "Laura!" he exclaimed, launching himself forward to seize the knife still stuck in Silas's ribs. He turned it with a hoarse shout, and a shock of agony ran through the beast. Silas jerked back, loosening his grip on Laura's arm, but not before ripping great gouges into her skin. She reeled back, clutching at her bleeding arm, her face twisted in a mix of rage and pain.Travis attacked again with the knife, trying to get him far enough from her for him to be able to get a good shot without hitting her. But that only made Silas run again. He took the break from the fight to look at Laura in complete disbelief.She didn't fumble or hesitate, her hands ripping her belt from her waist to wrap around her arm above the wound with all possible haste. She tightened the makeshift tourniquet with a jerk of her teeth, setting her face into a grim mask. She turned back to Travis, her eyes fierce and resolute, but the fear evident below.“Do what you have to do if I run out of time," she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper before she rose again. Travis' blood ran cold; his throat was tight as he watched her disappear into the shadows, relentless in her search for Silas.He clutched the gun in desperation with one final surge of willpower. Tonight had to end with Silas or himself. There wasn't a third option. He disregarded the sharp, stabbing pain in his side, rain slicking his grip on the shotgun, and made himself keep going. Every step was a torture, but he couldn't turn his back and let her go on alone. Ahead of him, Travis heard the furious ring of steel against claw, the wet slap of flesh meeting metal as Laura and Silas fought in a savage frenzy.Laura moved with a speed and strength that she had never possessed before, the werewolf bite already heightening her senses to make her a formidable match for Silas. She swung her axes with brutal precision, each arc deadly, until one landed squarely across Silas's jaw. Flesh tore away with a sickening rip, sending blood spraying through the air, mingling with the rain that poured down heavy and relentless. The skyes roared once more. Screaming the name of the wild child. Silas, dazed, lost his balance, and slipped as he struggled to recover. Laura didn't let him get up, following through with a devastating blow toward his hind leg. He yelped in agony as his leg buckled beneath him. Travis didn't waste a second, lifting the shotgun, hands sure despite the gnawing pain in his ribs."Laura, duck!" he yelled, his voice barely cutting through the storm. She threw herself out of the way just as he fired. The blast echoed sharply through the darkened woods, the silver bullet hitting Silas's arm and ripping it from his body. Silas roared in agony, the feral sound tearing through the rain-drenched night as he staggered but didn't falter. With a burst of primal fury, he lunged at Travis.Travis raised the gun he had no time to reload. Silas's jaws clamped down on the barrel, twisting it from Travis's grasp with brutal force. The impact threw Travis backward, and he felt pain radiate through him as he hit the muddy ground. Silas slashed at him with his remaining claw, raking across his chest in a movement that Travis stopped in the last second with his weapon, but before the werewolf could lunge again, there was a sickening crunch—the sound of metal splitting through bone.Silas froze mid-motion, his yellow eyes aglow with surprise in a strange, nearly human way. He fell to the ground, slowly, his body thrumming, before stilling in the mud beside Travis. There was an ax buried in the back of his skull, its blade slick with blood. Travis's breath choked, and he looked up to see Laura was standing over them both, her eyes bright with intensity, rain, blood and mud slick on her skin. Her yellow eyes shone in the moonlight, feral and inhuman, before relaxing back to their normal blue as the infection was washed from her body. From far within the woods, a voice rose—a sharp, despairing keen that ran along the trees and sliced through the storm like shards of glass. Eliza's voice, full of fury and sorrow seemed to wrap itself around them, her words an unnatural litany in the wind:
My boy, my cursed white wolf! your pain was my pain, your hurt my hurt; they tore you from me!
The cry faded, but her presence lingered—thick and haunting, as if her spirit was bound to these woods. Laura had reeled back, her chest heaving, rain pouring down her face while she stared into Travis, relief and exhaustion etched into her features. They remained silent; bound by the horror they'd faced and the weight of what they had just survived. The rain around them softened, washing the blood and mud away, but what wouldn't be washed away was the fixity of their mutual stare, as they had stood together then, soaked, bruised—but changed forever by the brutal truth of the night.Laura knelt in the mud, her legs giving up. Silas's body sprawled beside her, blood and rain mingling in thick rivulets down her face. Her breathing was ragged, her arms shaking with exhaustion as her fingers clutched the ax still sunk in Silas's head. The forest around them was silent now, the storm subdued in the wake of what they'd done, leaving only the steady drip of rain and the metallic scent of blood filling the air.“If you hated me that much after all I did to your family, you could've told me instead of just cutting me off," she said in a low tone, her voice barely audible over the patter of raindrops hitting the mud-soaked earth. She didn't turn to him; her eyes were fixed intently on Silas's inert form, as if her gaze was meant to anchor her to the reality of his lifeless body.Travis's jaw clenched, his eyes shadowed with something unreadable. He hesitated, the words catching in his throat, before he managed, "I didn't do it because I hated you. I did it because I thought… that leaving you alone would help you."Her laugh was bitter, cutting, as she shook her head. "Well, it didn't."Travis's eyes softened, his regret clear as he watched her. "I'm… I'm sorry, Laura.”Then she looked at him, her eyes a tempest of anger and sorrow and maybe something more that she wouldn't let him see. She held his gaze for a long moment, her shoulders sagging as the adrenaline slowly dissipated from her system. She looked down at herself, mud and blood splattered, hair slicked to her face; she took a long breath.“Are you hurt?" He asked with concern. She shook her head, showing him the arm where Silas bit her; the holes in the jacket showing unwounded clear skin. She had already healed. Then she set about removing the tourniquet of her limb, restoring the flow of blood now that infection wasn’t a danger to their lives."We can go to Hackett's Quarry," he offered softly. "There are showers there, by the swimming pool, where we can clean up without… making a mess. I can drive you back to your car afterwards. That will draw less attention than going anywhere public like this."Her expression didn't soften. He could see it in her eyes, weighing all options on the table before making up her mind. Covered in blood and mud, no hotel would let her stay without calling the police. Not that she wouldn't draw too much attention when she turned up like that back on campus. Plus having to clean the mess of the car she borrowed from her parents.She nodded at last. Without saying a word, she thrust herself onto her feet, grasping the ax tightly as it came free from Silas's head with a grim, sickening sound. With one final remaining thought Laura swung the ax and cut his head clean off his body. She did not flinch, didn't hesitate, and just turned and walked away heading back toward their cars without sparing Travis a second glance.Travis watched her walk away through dim, rain-soaked woods, the weight of everything unspoken between them heavy in his chest. The silence hung like a wall between them, a barrier none of them dared to cross. The soft drum of the rain, the squelch of their footsteps on wet mud, the only sounds punctuating the night. Every step was weighted, the echo of what they had done dogging them like shadows. Travis's chest felt heavy, each breath pulling in damp earth-smelling, blood and faint smoke. They were soaked to the bone, exhaustion filtering into their souls, yet the quiet was calming, an odd sort of peace in the wake of the violence.When they were only a few meters away from his car, sudden flashes of flashlights cut through the rain, keen and unforgiving, jabbing into the night as silhouetted figures strapped in heavy armor and tactical gear surrounded them. An FBI team fanned out around them, rifles forward and fingers tightening on triggers, their features hidden behind the harsh light that bounced off raindrops."Drop your weapons!" The command cut through the rain, its edge as keen as any blade, admitting no dissent. Travis instinctively moved in front of Laura, his shotgun loose in one hand, the other raised in a sign of surrender. He could feel her glare at him, and he knew she was still holding the axes tightly. There was defiance in the set of her shoulders, white-knuckled as she refused to let go of what had helped end the nightmare."He's dead—Silas is dead! " Laura yelled above the rain, stretched taut, but unbroken. "The werewolf. He's dead!" There was a rawness to her voice, a desperate need for these agents to comprehend what they'd just been through."Drop the weapons!" came again, this time louder.Travis threw a glance at her, his eyes softening in silent appeal for her to let go, just to put this nightmare behind them, if only for that instant.Slowly, they both lowered their arms, dropping their weapons. One agent came forward, his expression unyielding as he took in the scene of the two standing before him, two people smeared with blood and mud, soaked to the bone, barely able to stand, yet fire still flaring bright in their eyes. Another agent spoke quietly into a radio, gesturing a small team to follow as he relayed Travis's description of where Silas could be found."You don't have to run tests," Laura spat, the resentment thick on her voice. "It's his blood, alright? He's dead, so back off." Glowering, eyes flashing with defiance, daring any to doubt the reality of what they had done. Her breathing hitched slightly, her whole body taut with tension, as if any further prod would send her over. They were ushered towards a plain black van as they motioned them inside. The interior was tight, making them sit shoulder to shoulder, mud and water sloshing around their feet. An agent opposite them handed them a phone on speaker. Travis's stomach knotted as a now-familiar voice crackled on the other end of the line. "Of course it's you two," Agent Lewis's irritated voice came through, exasperation dripping from his voice like honey from a spoon. "How incredibly stupid, both of you! We had it all under control." Laura's face screwed up in anger and she cursed, her voice razor-sharp. "Then you should've done your damn job and made sure he was dead! Your team was as useful tracking him as this fucking clown." The venom practically dripped from her words, though her anger wasn't for Lewis alone. Travis' lips thinned with resentment, knowing she was talking about him. He dropped his gaze to let her have the lead in this conversation, her fiery energy filling the small space as she lashed out, frustration boiling over."You're lucky you're both alive," Lewis returned icily. "You think we would let civilians like you go around killing wolves?”Travis pressed his fingers to his temples, letting her response wash over him, a storm he couldn't hope to calm. Laura fired back with equal force, her words striking with raw intensity. Their exchange crackled with tension, an unspoken understanding that no one in this van truly grasped what they'd endured that night, what it had taken to put Silas down."How the hell did you find us, anyway?" Laura's sharp voice hung in the air as her eyes narrowed on the phone suspiciously. "Last thing I remember, the Sheriff over here told you the werewolf was near Hackett's Quarry. So how do you manage to get right to us?"Lewis paused, and within that silence, Laura's gut twisted into a realization."You tracked our cars." Her voice was flat, a bitter edge seeping in. "You tracked us to see who'd break first, who'd try to hunt him down during the full moon.”Lewis's tone was flat and emotionless which in itself betrayed him. "I won't confirm that," he said smoothly. "But we were monitoring to make sure you were holding up your end of the contract. We had difficulty tracking Silas outside of the full moon because of the extension of the area, but the second you two moved in closer in the full moon we had reason to believe you were… taking matters into your own hands.”Laura's jaw clenched, but she let the tension seep away on a small exhale. They'd played the game, and they'd won—but the cost would remain, dogging them like the shadows of the forest that stretched around them.It was a line in the sand, Lewis' final warning, a thinly veiled threat for them to keep out of his affairs in the future. The silence that followed was louder than any argument, the weight of Lewis' words settling over them like a grim reminder their battle was truly not their own. Travis watched Laura's face as she sat back, still simmering with anger, her breath heavy, her jaw clenched in defiance.They sat for a very long period in total silence, waiting for the agents to come back. Finally, the team that left earlier emerged from the woods toting something in a cadaver bag and they were allowed to leave the van. There was something palpable—even from a distance—that just made it impossible not to see or know what lay inside the bag: the end to the monster that had haunted them all. A senior agent approached them, rain streaming off his helmet, and nodded with a faint hint of respect. "I need to tell you, that was one hell of a job."Travis just nodded, more out of exhaustion than anything else. "Thanks. Can I have my stuff back?" Laura asked, nodding toward the van where her weapons were most probably kept. "Unfortunately, no. They're covered in blood. It's—" "Protocol, yeah, I know." She swore under her breath. "You know, they weren't cheap."The agent's mouth twitched in a slight smile. "Guess that makes it tougher for you to keep doing our job. I've got a family to feed too."Laura's face relaxed, her features managing a grim smile that almost looked real, a flicker of mutual understanding passing between them. As Travis caught her rare smile, a sudden sadness stirred within him, something deep and hard to swallow.The agent made them an offer: "Can we give you both a lift somewhere?"Sounding strange, hollow even, a formality that did little to scratch the surface of what they'd survived, yet here they stood in the rain, surrounded by a team that saw only the aftermath—a quiet understanding settled between Travis and Laura."We're fine," Laura grumbled, crossing her arms and turning to give Travis a sideways glance. Travis nodded slightly in response.They started walking towards Travis's old car, but as he reached for the door, Laura suddenly knelt down by the front wheel. He watched her, puzzled, until she retrieved a small box wedged above the tire. She looked at it fleetingly then slung it with all her might into the darkness. He didn't need to ask; he knew it was probably the FBI tracking device.He opened his mouth—to thank her, perhaps—but she didn't give him the chance to say anything."I need to stop by my car first, grab my backpack. I've got a change of clothes in there," she said, her eyes focused somewhere else. She climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door, facing towards the window, in silence.Travis drove to her car, following her directions. He waited while she performed the same ritual, checking the wheels for another tracker, tossing it aside with the same quiet defiance. He knew the agents would put them back at the first opportunity and he had a feeling Laura knew that too. But there was something powerful in the gesture, as futile as it seemed. She opened her car door, pulled out a backpack, and slung it behind her into the back seat as she got back into Travis's car. The drive to the campsite was silent; the storm dissipated as they drew near to the deserted, ghostly site. A stillness fell between them now, the silence heavy with resignation, yet touched by a strange peace—there was no longer any hunt, any waiting. It was finally over. The camp lay still and eerie, blanketed in shadows. Travis parked near the pool house and they went inside, the sound of their feet echoed in the tilled room. He stood aside, pushing the door open for Laura to go inside. "Go on—get in the shower," he said with a firm but soft voice. "I'll grab some towels and clothes from my truck.”She nodded, still distant, and darted for one of the showers.Travis went back outside, snagged a couple towels and some extra clothes from the back of his car.As he came back inside the building, Travis hesitated at the entrance to the shower area, the steady stream of water echoing on the tiles. He calmly put a towel next to her backpack and backed away, giving her space, then went to the adjacent shower stall.He let the hot water pound against his skin, scrubbing the blood and dirt off and wincing as it hit his healing ribs. But his mind kept straying to Laura in the stall beside him, the hard, steady rhythm of the water making her presence all the more proximal, it seemed. He knew he should be spending his time cleaning himself, but her shadow danced in the edges of his thoughts, a dark figure that lingered in the back of his mind.After washing away the last remnants of the hunt, he wrapped a towel around his waist and padded toward his clothes. As he drew near, he saw her stall door was left ajar.Travis' breath caught as her voice—soft and broken—floated out to him in whispered fragments. He stopped, thinking maybe she was talking to him, reaching out in some quiet way. But as he listened in, he could only hear a soft whisper. Almost muted by the strength of the water:“Brown. His eyes are brown. Brown. Fucking brown. Fuck—" Brown. The words spilled out like a plea, a stuttering mantra, as if they would help her twist the reality around her into some way that gave her any sense of control. Travis then realized she must had noticed the stream of red blood circling down the sink, last mementos from their battle with the beast. Scarlet memories still seemed to clamp onto her, shadow impressions of what they'd endured bleeding through their present.He quietly retreated while her words hounded in his mind.Travis dressed in silence on a changing room, his thoughts tightly lidded. When he came out into the main area, Laura stood beside her backpack, fully dressed, her face averted as if she wouldn't or couldn't look at him. Her shoulders were hunched tight, her posture closed off in a way he hadn't seen for a long time, as if she'd erected barriers he wasn't intended to cross. He felt a pang of guilt for staring at her but an even stronger, bone-deep guilt seeing how thin she had become, like if she hadn't eaten or rested in days. Her clothes, even small, were lose around her thin shape.He took a deep breath, and his body ran with a quiver of indecision. The echoes of her words still painfully rang in his ears—the meaningless repetition of the color of his eyes. He opened his mouth to talk but she, as always, won this fight yet over again; her voice strained."I must get going," she said, still with her back turned to him. "I need to sleep before class tomorrow."Travis fought the urge to press her, to offer a distraction from whatever haunted her thoughts. "I can take you back to campus," he said, his tone soft, "You could sleep in the car on the way.” She shook her head, eyes still cast down onto the ground, the wet strands of her golden hair slipping with the movement. "I'd just have to come back tomorrow for the car, anyway," she replied in a voice that was nothing more than a distant murmur, no inflection to it. She snatched up her backpack, swinging it over her shoulder with tight, almost mechanical movements. A thousand things to say, and no word could he find. He silently followed her back to the car, keeping his distance as they walked into the misty night. It was a silent ride, only the sound of rain tapping against the car and the soft humming of the engine. Laura sat hunched over, staring out the window as the exhausting weight bore down on her like an anchor. Travis looked across and, for a moment, he watched her—the shadowed features, the paleness of her skin, the exhaustion that tugged at her shoulders and seemed to hold her eyes open against her will. Every fiber in his body wanted to offer to drive her home in her car—even if it meant catching public transportation back to North Kill the next morning.But he knew she'd refuse.She wanted to leave, to be gone, and a part of him was hollow with the knowledge of it.He could tell she hadn't been taking care of herself, that the stress was pulling its toll within her eyes, even in the slight shake of her hands as they lay in her lap. He couldn't help but really look at her now, seeing past the anger still between them. This wasn't the fierce, witty, determined woman he'd first met; she seemed an empty shell of her real self. For the first time, he realized her actions during the night hadn't been out of a will to survive. She hadn't fought to save her own life—she'd marched into battle armed with close-range weapons, and left her scent uncovered while masking his, while protecting him. She hadn't even struggled much when she was bitten—it was almost a chance she'd been prepared to take; kill Silas, have her revenge, or die trying. She wasn't surviving; she was courting death. And that terrified him. She seemed mentally broken, holding onto a memory as perhaps the only way she could anchor herself to reality. A memory of the only one who had been there to take her hand when she most needed it. And that person didn’t exist anymore in her reality. A reality she didn’t want to belong to any longer. They were at her car before he realized they were even close; the headlights reflected off its rain-streaked surface. Travis pulled over a few meters away, opening his mouth to say anything which could help bridge the chasm between them. But before words could come from his lips, Laura was already in motion, snatching up her backpack and stepping out into the rain without so much as a backward glance. "Laura, wait—" He called, stepping out of the car as the rain blurred the space between them.She turned back to him slowly, her face half-hidden in shadow, her eyes slitted. Raw fury mingled with something far deeper in her face. "Or what?" she demanded, a crack of bitterness sawing through the night. "What else are you going to say? You've already said enough.""Please, just—talk to me," he begged, voice fraying with guilt and desperation."Talk—to you?" She laughed, the sound keen, almost cruel, bouncing off the trees around them. "I told you I love you, and you just… disappeared. You didn't even have the decency to say a word. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"Travis tried to answer, to explain, but she cut him off, her voice rising with the weight of weeks' worth of frustration and hurt. "When I first met you, I hated you—and you locked me up. Then I told you I love you, and you disappeared. If I’d known confessing how I feel would make you vanish, I’d have never spent a fucking hour on that damn cell!” Her laugh was sharp and brittle, echoing through the trees. Her words hit him like a blow, and Travis felt the hollowness spread in his chest. He hadn't meant for this. He hadn't wanted to leave her abandoned. But looking at her now, seeing the pain he'd caused written so clearly on her face, he knew all his good intentions had simply driven a deeper wedge between them."Laura…" His voice was hoarse then, the words no more than a whisper. "It wasn't—I thought… I thought you'd be happier if you moved on, without me dragging you down. I wanted you to have a life—”She cut him off with a caustic laugh; her face contorted with hurt and anger. "You wanted what? To decide for me? To choose who I can rely on? You are not my jailer anymore to have an opinion on how I live my life!" Her fists clenched at her sides, her shoulders tense. "I thought I'd found someone who understood what it meant to go through hell and come out the other side. But all I got was silence.""I didn't want to hurt you," he growled, his voice rough. "I just thought you'd be better off… without all of this.""Without you, you mean? " she snarled. "You didn't even let me in as a fucking friend! If you didn't feel the same way, fine, but at least let me have that. Instead, you left me completely alone. Do you have any idea what that's been like? Ryan and the other counselors are dead, Max is gone, and my parents… they'd never understand, I can't even start telling them what I have gone through! I can't talk to them, not about this. I don’t have any fucking friends that wouldn’t sell me to the press for a fucking Happy Meal coupon. I was left fucking alone! I couldn’t count on anybody, I couldn’t even go to fucking therapy because no matter how many therapists I call, I always get some fucking fed contacting me for a session! At least when I was fucking locked up, I still had somebody to talk to! But this? This is the worst thing you could have ever done to me! I have never felt this lonely in my fucking life!”Her words hit him like a blow, and Travis felt the hollowness spread in his chest. He hadn't meant for this. He hadn't wanted to leave her abandoned. But looking at her now, seeing the pain he'd caused written so clearly on her face, he knew all his good intentions had simply driven a deeper wedge between them.Travis’ throat tightened, shame and despair coursing through his whole body. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispered now, his shame pricking at his skin. "I just wanted to give you a chance to live your life… without the memories, without all of this.”Laura's voice fell, her face contorting with the pain she'd carried for so long. "But that's not for you to decide. You don't get to make that choice for me. You don't get to leave when you're the only one who knows… what all of this was like. Not after I—" She swallowed hard, her eyes welling in the dark, her voice shaking. "Not after I told you how I feel.”Travis felt her confession settle onto him once more, cutting through the self-perpetuating guilt. He'd thought he was protecting her, but maybe he has been protecting himself as much. Worried of how his heart would break once she realized she wasn’t actually in love with him. Not really. His heart ached at the realization of just how much he'd risked losing her. Because he doesn’t remember anymore a time when he didn’t love her. And it was a terrifying thought. “I'm so sorry," he whispered, regret resounding in his voice. "I thought it would be easier for you if I stayed away… but I was wrong. I should have been there. I didn't know how… But it was wrong of me to cut you off completely…" His voice faltered before he steadied himself. "I should've been there, even just as a friend.”Laura looked away, biting her lip, her face shut off. He was terrified she'd turn and leave, that his apology wasn't enough, that he'd done too much damage for her to ever let him in again.She spoke after a moment of silence; her voice was softer, the edge of hurt still there. “Then what do you want, Travis? What do you want from me?”He swallowed hard, meeting her eyes with all the vulnerability he could muster. "I want to be here for you again," he admitted, his voice trembling but resolute. "I want to fix what I broke. However you’ll let me."She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head as she turned her gaze away. "You’re so full of shit," she muttered, her voice wavering between anger and exhaustion.“Maybe,” he whispered. "But I mean it. If you need me, I'll be there."She gave the faintest of nods—a tentative acceptance—and turned towards her car. Travis watched her leave, the hollow ache in his chest a familiar one. But for once, he knew she wasn't disappearing. He'd be there—for as long as she needed him. She got into her car and drove away with one last look. The silence in her car felt choking as she drove down the serpentine road. At one moment, loneliness started to creep in again when the memories came rushing into her head. She played his words over and over again in her head like a recording, and with every mile covered, she could feel an empty space building inside her. It was only a couple of miles till she cranked the music up, hoping it would drown her thoughts away, keep her awake, keep her earthbound. Nothing soothed the ache she had carried since he stopped answering her calls and texts. Teary-eyed nights on campus in her dorm, she remembered, feeling like she was trapped in that other little room—alone with nothing but the silence and memories.The loneliness had clawed into her, spreading a void in her with an insufferable feeling of seclusion.Her calls and messages to him remained unheard, and with each one, she felt her heart break a little more. She remembered how, on one night, in despair, she dialed again and again, hoping he would receive the call, he would say something, anything, but the line went straight to voicemail, playing back every time the same hollow message. She could still feel that night as if it was happening again—the panic rising, air too thin yet too heavy. She'd slipped down to the floor, huddled against the wall, drenched in sweat and clutching a handful of blankets like some makeshift nest. Her mind had spiraled, caught in some loop of suffocating loneliness, the weight of the world leaning upon her, and nobody to understand. There hadn't even been any red items in the room to trigger her, nothing scarlet colored in the sanctuary of her bedroom—she made sure of it— and still felt the obvious signs of a full panic attack in which she was powerless. And alone. Completely alone. She felt small, a ghost in a world that didn't know she even existed.She'd whispered just one sentence to herself, over and over, a tiny thread to hold onto in the dark: His eyes are brown. It was her anchor, which had kept her moored through that endless night. His face, the sound of his voice—all she could hold, the only things that kept her sane, prevented her from being utterly devoured by the desolation.A soft chime drew her back into the present as her phone lit up while she kept driving. Glancing down, she saw a name too familiar on the screen, which twisted at her heart.
‘I’m so sorry, Laura. I'm here if you need me.'
She stared at the words, her hold on the wheel tighter, a trace of smile touching her lips. She did not answer immediately but knew she would text him upon getting home—a simple message stating that she had made it to the campus safely. Perhaps tomorrow, she would tell him what she had for breakfast. And perhaps with time, bit by bit, she'd start to let him in again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The wave of communication started slowly, hesitant, as if they were testing the waters of fragile connection between them one message at a time, a link they attempted to rebuild. He found himself checking his phone more frequently than usual: after speaking with one of the contractors at Hackett's Quarry, after running errands, even in the stillness of his home when he was reading a book and thought he heard the soft chime of a new message. A strange restlessness had taken root in him, and it actually surprised him how well he had adapted to waiting for her notifications. He felt that the familiarity of her name lighting up on his screen was a lifeline that he did not know he missed that much.Their exchanges were not much: just the small notes making up the fabric of Laura's day—mundane, casual, yet somehow grounding. It wasn't that they plunged into deep conversations, for there was this invisible boundary between them for now, this line neither seemed ready to cross since that night they had confronted each other. Yet, she continued messaging him: a little update about her classes, a funny incident at the clinic, or a quick snap of some wildlife she happened to come across during her training.
‘We had a lost squirrel today. Little guy was so scared, but he perked up after we fed him a few seeds. I named him Larry. Max would have loved him.’
A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hit Travis every time she mentioned Max, but he found himself just enjoying her messy messages.
‘He's a little menace, but he'd grow on you, I think. Guess he reminded me of… well, you know. Just a little life hanging on.’
Their messages were sometimes playful, sometimes tinged with memories neither knew how to shake. She would send him the name of a new restaurant she had been to, a photo of city lights aglow in winter's fog, or a link to some book she thought he might like. And more recently, she even sent him a link from a streaming platform where the movie ‘Kung Fu Panda’ was available—on the condition he promised to wait for her and watch it together. Not that he had any means to watch it on his own, electronics haven’t been his forte in any part of his life and his home settings were a clear evidence of it.Funny, but all these little things took the sting away from the void that had been nibbling at him since she had been gone. He recalled those weeks after they'd gone their separate ways, those endless days when his life was reduced to the barest bones, and he felt it a miracle he'd lived through them with its silences. Now, her bright, unwashed messages left streaks in his otherwise quiet world. This was a brilliant, wild presence that invaded his life even when she wasn't around, the laughter and lightness filtering through into his phone screen.Time passed in a blur—the days growing shorter and colder as December finally started to dig deep. Friday arrived with a chill seeming to permeate right into his bones. In a few short weeks, it would be Christmas—a holiday this year unlike any of the others that had come and gone. There would not even be a small, awkward holiday gathering at the station for him, not being part of the team anymore. And his family—well there was that. The faces he had been celebrating Christmas with, year in and year out, would be nothing more than a memory, remnants of a life left behind.The thought of him being alone through the holiday gnawed at a part of him that he did not really expect it to. He thought about visiting Bobby, maybe calling to see if the facility allowed visitors on Christmas Day. Travis thought that it could be good for both of them. At least they could sit down together, even in silence, and enjoy a meal—or at least as close to a holiday meal as this place would allow.All these thoughts vanished as his phone buzzed once more.
Laura.
Travis picked it up, the familiar name on his screen sending a mix of anticipation and apprehension coursing through him. But his fingers stilled as he read the message, frowning in surprise.
‘Would you tell me where you live?’
A shiver ran down his spine as the idea struck him hard: her coming into his home. It wasn't the casual question she might have intended, it seemed deeper, more intimate, and it raised a tension he didn't know how to handle. His home had always been his sanctuary, his private space where he could shut out the world. And in that moment, it would make all that he had been avoiding painfully real to have Laura inside his private sanctum. He wanted to be there for her—truly—but he hadn't changed his mind. One day, she would leave, just like everyone else had. And if he let her this close, she'd be taking pieces of him when she left.Fingers hovered over the screen, he finally typed his reply, each word filled with the hesitation he couldn't shake.
‘I don't think it's a good idea.’
Seconds ticked on, and he waited with this weird dread. Would she be hurt? Mad? Or worse, disappointed? He couldn't bear the thought of her pulling away or perhaps stopping reaching out at all. Not so soon, he wasn't ready yet. His heart had constricted as he watched the screen, the ellipsis that told him she was typing appear and disappear. Finally, when her message came, it was—not expected.
‘That's OK, you didn't tell me you started the renovations yet.’
His brow furrowed. What did she mean?The next message was a photo, too dark to make out at first glance. But as he squinted, the shapes and shadows in the image coalesced into an unmistakable outline against the night sky—Hackett's Quarry Lodge. His stomach dropped.Travis cursed under his breath as he scrambled off the couch, grasping for his leather jacket on the hook behind the door. She was there. At the camp, at night, alone. The frost on the ground gleamed in the dark, and Laura's breath frosted into pale clouds of vapor in the chill air. Of course, she hadn't thought this through. No thick jacket against the weather, no toiletries or anything else for that matter—she even forgot a spare sweater to be ready for this country's chill. She rubbed her hands together, shaking from the cold as it nipped at her bones. But even the chill wasn't enough to deter her. She was here because she needed to see him.It had been a rough week on campus, worse than usual. Her attempt at making friends had backfired; she'd tried opening up to a young woman she'd been paired with during her first week on class—a girl who was nice but irritatingly curious. That curiosity had come to a head when Laura caught her playfully peeking at her phone messages over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of her conversation with Travis. Without thinking, Laura had snapped, telling her to "mind her damn business," harsher than she'd intended. The look on her friend's face had been one of hurt and confusion, but Laura hadn't tried to soften it right at that moment. She couldn't bear for anyone to pry into the delicate, private space she shared with him. Laura knew she wasn't actually reading, that it was all a joke because it has been something of a continuous thing since the wave of messages started again; that she was always on her phone with a silly smile on her lips. 'That look' as her friend referred to. She understood and her rational mind wasn't as mad as she thought she would be.But.It didn't help that her friend had been wearing bright red rain boots that day. Red, bold, and unapologetic, that color had sent Laura's thoughts reeling and her chest constricting until she could hardly breathe. All she wanted to do was get off campus, away from those probing questions and the incessant memories that clung to her like a shadow. She hadn't given any thought to where she was headed or what she might need; her first instinct was to see him. She'd attempted casual messages with him, joking around, making light of the whole thing.But then his reply came, formal, and reserved, and neutral—hit her a lot tougher than she'd thought. Didn't want her to know where he lived. At least, not yet. She understood; she really did. But a part of her wanted that intimacy, knew he was in reach in some way, no matter how stubborn he was. Instead, she'd headed to Hackett's Quarry, the only place she knew he'd be attached to in some way. The lodge now loomed in front of her, half shrouded in scaffolding, the renovations stalled for the weekend.The vision was like a blow, an unraveling pang through her entire existence, threatening to spill memories over. She'd been here once, invincible; now she felt like a ghost wandering through other people's memories. She shivered and sat on the steps of the lodge, her fingers rigid with cold as she hugged herself tightly. The stillness of the forest weighed in around her; the only sounds were the soft murmur of the trees and the faraway hooting of an owl. Not much later, she saw a pair of headlights that pierced the dark night, growing brighter until the beams washed over her, making her squint against the glare. A figure stepped out of the car, and for a moment she couldn't see who it was. But she knew that silhouette, that careful, measured way he moved.“You're trespassing on private property," Travis called, his voice slicing through the stillness of the night as he moved closer, his form blotting out the unforgiving car lights.Laura managed a half-smile, her lips stiff from the cold. "Are you arresting me, Sheriff?”He shook his head, his face softening in a mixture of exasperation and concern. "Sadly, I'm no longer on duty. But you cannot stay here; it's freezing. Come on," he said, turning back toward his car and motioning for her to follow.As she stood, her knees stiff and aching, she glanced toward the lodge, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Wouldn't you show me inside?" she asked hopefully.Travis shook his head, his face impassive. "Not tonight. It's dangerous out here in the dark with all the construction going. We'll come by tomorrow if you want when we pick up your car."She nodded and followed him toward his car, its open-door spilling warmth like a beacon. She sank into the passenger seat, letting the heater's warmth seep into her skin, thawing her frozen fingers. “You want to go get some bags out of your car for tonight?" he asked softly. Laura shook her head, a small, resigned smile playing on her lips. "Didn't exactly plan this out. Just—left as soon as I could." Then Travis started the car, reversing it out of the lot, glancing over his shoulder as he backed up. He let it be, turning his attention to the road as he headed them back toward North Kill."If you're planning to take me to the motel," she dared, "I just want to remind you that I'm still a broke student." He cut her a sideways glance, his lips twisting wryly. "If you keep buying smartphones for retired county sheriffs, that's not likely to change anytime soon."She couldn't help but laugh, the sound easing some of the tension in her chest. It was nice to have this much of a reprieve, even one moment of playful banter to take her mind off everything weighing her down.The silence stretched until Travis finally spoke up, his voice softer than usual."Have you had dinner yet?"Laura shook her head."No. Lunch was the last meal I had.""Alright," he said, as though making his mind up about something. He shifted his grip on the wheel and stretched an arm over to glance in her direction. "We'll go over to Tommy's, they stay open late on Fridays—it's bingo night."She turned to him with a small smile. "Sounds good, but wouldn't it be full of people? I'm not really feeling that conversational today."“Nobody goes to bingo night," Travis said, in a casual and bored-sounding tone, as if this has been a recurrent source of conversation in town.Laura noticed something else after really taking a look at him, though, and a little mischievous smile began to spread across her face. "Are you—are you in your pajamas, Travis?”He looked down, grunting despite himself. "I was at home, getting ready to call it a night when you decided to show up at Hackett's Quarry without so much as a heads-up."She smirked, nudging his arm. "Guess I caught you off guard, huh? Maybe next time I'll give you a few minutes' warning. I didn't want to text and drive; I know you would have been disappointed.""Very. But you could've waited until tomorrow. Come at a decent hour, I'd have come to town and fetched you, taken you to camp for a tour if you wished," he growled low, without any sting to his words, just a thread of worry. "You're freezing. You aren't even dressed for this weather."She shrugged, the warmth of the car chasing away the last remnants of the cold. "I didn't… didn't really think it through. Just… needed to get away."He didn't ask more, didn't press her for an explanation, but his eyes softened. Travis understood more than anyone the need to escape, to just drive with no destination, hoping that somewhere down the road, the answers would find you. The drive to Tommy's was silent, save the soft hum of the car's heater as Travis drove through the dark streets of town. Laura leaned her head against the window, watching as the buildings blurred by. Her breath fogged the glass, and as they pulled into the lot, she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cold seep through the thin material of her clothes. She couldn't believe how Travis had offered his own jacket once they were out of the car, but she refused, saying it was going to be just a quick run to the pub, and she would be fine. Tommy's small sign glowed feebly in the darkened street, appearing to shine like a beacon of warmth. Inside the diner was nearly deserted—even though this was Friday night—except for a pair of regulars sitting on the far wall under low, strung-up lights.They appear lost in bingo, heads bent over their cards as they daub at numbers, absorbed. There was a bell above the door that jingled as they came inside. Laura took a hasty, thankful breath of the warm interior air; the smell of fried foods and stale coffee filled the place, but welcome after the bitter cold outside. As they entered, Tommy looked up from behind the counter. For a second, his eyes went wide in surprise. Then, without uttering a word, he strode around the counter and enveloped Travis in a massive bear hug—so forceful that Travis nearly stumbled.“Travis! You old son of a bitch!" The boisterous voice of Tommy seemed to echo off the walls of the empty diner as he embraced Travis tightly, as if he would vanish. "You finally come down to see us. I'm so glad to see you, kid! Wait 'til I tell Martha! I couldn't believe the news! You're a damn hero.”Travis was caught off guard, forcing a smile as he awkwardly patted Tommy on his back. "It's good to see you too, Tommy. I have been meaning to come by.""Meaning to come by? You haven't stepped foot in here since—" he paused for a second, highly aware of what was the last time he saw the Sheriff in town; before he disappeared. "Fuck who cares! I was about to track you down myself if you didn't show up soon," Tommy said, releasing him with a laugh.Laura stepped back, enjoying the sudden display of affection. She had been here before, snuck in to snag a burger or two to take to Travis at the hospital, but now she could tell that Tommy was seriously happy to have his old friend there in person again.Finally he turned to her, his smile warm. "And look who's here again! Couldn't keep you away from our food, huh?”Laura shrugged, a small smile pulling at her lips. "I figured I'd drag him out for a change.""Well, it's on the house tonight," Tommy announced, grinning wide. "Anything you two want—the specials, drinks, anything. Just like old times."He gestured them toward the rear of the diner, to a booth along the back wall, and nodded at them amicably before he moved back to the counter. Laura slipped into the worn vinyl seat, wrapping her arms around herself as the warmth of the diner started to chase the cold from her bones. Travis just watched her for a moment, then slid into the booth across from her.“Bingo night,” he said, looking over at the two people huddled at the farthest table, focused on their cards. “Some things don't change. Guess it wouldn't be Tommy's without a little bingo. I think I could count with one hand how many people showed up on Fridays.”The warmth of the diner, the familiarity of Tommy's face, seemed to have taken a little of the edge off Travis. His shoulders were less stiff, the hard lines of his face softer than she'd seen them in a very long time. He looked down at the menu, seemingly to study it, but Laura could tell that his mind was somewhere else. It wasn't that difficult to notice how his gaze roamed, shadows moving across his expression.When Tommy returned with two steaming plates, he set the specials before them with a grin, flipping a pair of napkins in their direction. "There you go. Extra fries for you, lovely girl—I remember how you asked for a scoop more. Enjoy.""Thanks, Tommy," Laura said with a smile, reaching for her burger.They ate for a while in silence, the quiet settling comfortably around them. The food was hot and hearty, just what Laura had been craving all day. It centered her, made her feel a little more like herself after a week of tense, scattered thoughts. She glanced over at Travis, catching him looking down at his burger with a strange, faraway expression."You okay?" she asked softly.He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Affirmative. Just… I haven't been here for the longest—hasn't felt normal like this in a while."She nodded, picking at a fry. "It's… it's nice. Coming back to somewhere that doesn't feel different.”Travis let out a small sigh and nodded. "Tommy's always been the same. Even after… everything." The softness in his voice accompanied his words as he looked down to his plate once again. A moment later, he almost seemed so vulnerable, where everything they'd experienced still reflected in his eyes.Laura's eyes narrowed as she searched his expression. "You know—it's been a rough week. Classes, people poking around…" She trailed off, speaking directly to her plate. "I didn't mean to bother you tonight. I just—I needed to get out."He shook his head. "You're not bothering me. Just wish you'd bought warmer clothes," he added with a small smile, his tone gentle, almost teasing.She huffed a quiet laugh, shifting a little closer to the warmth of the booth. "Well, I wasn't exactly planning on coming up today, just… needed a break from campus, I guess. We can go through some more of your old boxes for clothes if you have them around."Travis choked on his meal. Shaking his head.They fell into another comfortable silence, the clink of forks and soft hum of conversation from across the room filling the silence. After a while, Laura sat back, a soft sigh escaping her. "Tell me what's happened to make you run like this. Maybe it helps," he whispered softly, catching her distress."I… I tried making a friend on campus," she whispered, not looking up from the table, "This girl—Nuri, well, Nuria I guess— was nice, curious. And I thought… maybe it'd be okay to try. But then she started to ask me questions, pry, and I just snarled at her."Travis' eyebrows furrowed, his eyes seeking hers. "What happened?”"She saw me messaging you, she has noticed for the whole week. Asked who you were, why I was so secretive about it, she even made a joke to try to peek into the conversation… and I just told her to back off. I didn't even think about it; I just wanted her to stop. And I know she didn't mean it; she was just joking." She clenched her fists, her knuckles white. "And the worst part? She was wearing these bright red rain boots. I know it sounds stupid, but it… it just brought everything back. I felt like I was suffocating. I just needed her gone."Travis reached across the table, his hand finding hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's not stupid, kid. Not after everything that you have been through, after all your life has been posted to the public to judge. You feel that you need to protect your privacy, it's a sore subject, and I'm pretty sure she will understand if you decide to talk to her.”"Yeah, I know, I just—" She said, looking at him, the weight of her exhaustion palpable in her eyes. "I couldn't get out of there fast enough. The whole drive, I kept wondering if I'd made a mistake, if I should just turn back. But I… I needed to see you."Travis's eyes gentled and something in his expression she couldn't quite read was there. He gave her hand another squeeze before releasing it to lean back in his chair. "You have no need to apologize for that," he said quietly.They finished in silence, just the soft touch of their feet under the table, grounding them. Travis then left some money in the table and followed her out of the building. The drive back was silent, but that kind of comfortable silence that feels more like home than emptiness. The car heater pumped out a steady warmth, thawing Laura's frozen fingers and making her sink into the passenger seat with relief. The world outside blurred into streaks of dark, cold night, and she found herself watching the rhythm of Travis's hand on the wheel. The stillness felt grounding."You really didn't need to do all this, you know," she whispered, breaking the silence with a half-smile.Travis's gaze flickered her way, his hand tightening just a little on the wheel. "I know." He glanced back at the road, a barely-there smile on his lips.She'd looked uncertain for a moment. "Where are you taking me now?"After a moment, he'd responded, his voice low, as if he was sharing something personal. "My place."Laura didn't push any more, letting the words settle between them as she turned to look out of the window. She watched the quiet buildings they passed, their dark windows mirroring the occasional streetlamp. A few storefronts caught her eye with their leftover 'missing' posters taped in the glass, a silent reminder of all that had happened. It unsettled her, the whispered intrusions of past horrors upon this almost normal night.They drove farther out of town, streetlights sparse and then trees enveloping them, the road curving away towards what must have been his neighborhood; the drive was quiet and remote, an entrance to some other world, and then there was the tiny modest house, just pulled back off the road.Travis parked in front of a small garage, cutting the engine, and they both hastened towards the door as their breath clouded the cold night air. Travis led the way up a wooden porch, fumbling for the unlocked door and holding it open for her."Come on in, I'll get you warmed up," Travis said, holding the door open as they stepped into his home.The immediate warmth of the house enveloped her like a warm hug. She looked around, taking in the place. The entry opened into a living space that was open plan, the kitchen area separated by a breakfast bar. There was a small, well-worn couch in the living room and an old TV that looked like it hadn't seen much use over the past few years. She saw a low bookshelf, lined with a mix of titles—mostly mysteries and old detective novels—but a few books amongst them stood out. Her books.Her heart flipped as she recognized one she had lent him weeks ago in the hospital. She hadn't thought he'd kept it. But there it was, as if it had claimed a place among his possessions now. The family photos hung on the walls—faded and slightly askew in their frames. She saw pictures of him and his siblings from long-ago holidays, gatherings where he wore a familiar, soft smile—a side of him she rarely got to see. The photos looked like they had been jumbled around, as if someone struggled to decide what to keep. She even came across one of him and a more younger Jedediah out at some lake, holding up a large fish, both of them laughing. It was a strange feeling, seeing this man so different from the one she once met. The house felt old, lived in. It was not immaculate, but it was clean and well kept, tended with quiet, subtle pride. It was as if it had always been here, a part of North Kill's landscape, and Laura suspected that it was probably one of the older houses in town.“You want to take a shower before bed? It'll help with the cold," Travis asked, pulling her from her thoughts as he shrugged off his coat and hung it by the door."I'm fine," she replied, though the warmth of the shower was tempting."Alright," he said, nodding. "I'll get you at least something to change into so you don’t need to sleep in those." He nodded to her cold clothes. "Take a seat if you want. I'll be right back."She watched him disappear down the hall, his footsteps quiet on the old wooden floors. She sank onto the couch, feeling the soft give of the cushions as she leaned backward, her gaze drifting around the room. There was quiet peace here, the sense of steadiness that somehow made her jumpy heart still.Travis returned holding a change of clothes—a soft flannel shirt and an old pair of sweatpants that looked impossibly comfortable. She took them from him, feeling the faint warmth still caught in the fabric."The bathroom is down the hall on the left," he directed, motioning toward the corridor.Her eyes roved over more framed family photos on the walls, her gaze lingering on those people she didn't really know. There were pictures of his nephews, young and wide-eyed, obviously taken during visits that once would have filled this house with laughter and noise. She stopped in front of a framed photo of a much younger Travis standing beside his father; both men wearing the same proud, quiet strength etched across their features.In a few minutes she changed and called for him, but he wasn't in the living room. His voice called softly down the hall, "In the bedroom."She walked down the hall and leaned against the doorframe, watching him. He was hanging up clothes that had been laid out on the bed from when he had been rummaging for something comfortable for her to wear. She could tell by the slight embarrassment in his movements, the fidgeting to avoid her gaze.“Do you want to watch a movie or do something before going to bed?” he asked, piling up the clothes. “Not really, I’m really tired. Maybe tomorrow?”Travis nodded as if he was already expecting that answer but just being polite by asking. "Where am I going to sleep?" she murmured, a touch of shyness creeping into her voice."That depends on your answer to my next question," he said, looking at her with an exasperated tilt of his head. "What are the chances you're not going to end up in my bed in the middle of the night if I put you in the guest room?"She couldn't resist a little smirk, an ornery sparkle dancing in her eye. "Quite low?"He let out a sigh, folded the last of the clothes and put it back in the drawer. "Fine. My side's on the left," he said, adding pointedly, "and clothes stay on.""But—" she started, only to be cut off as he brushed past her, red tints in his ears.“Clothes stay on, or I'm locking the door and making you sleep on the couch," he said again, turning and heading down the hall so she couldn't continue arguing.She arched her brow, laughing, and threw, "Your door doesn't even have a lock!" after him, but he was gone.A minute or two later, he entered the room once more, this time carrying a glass of water, which he placed on the nightstand beside her side of the bed. He apologized for not having an extra toothbrush for her, but Laura didn't give it a second thought. It was her fault she came without a warning. They got ready for bed in silent unison, both performing the familiar movements with a curious, almost affectionate regard for each other. And when they finally lay beneath the coverlets, the room ducked into a gentle hush, except for the light rustling of the blankets and the far-off protest of the bed frame.Travis reached for the light switch, hesitated, and turned to her in the pale light— as if asking for permission. Laura gave him a soft, reassuring smile. He flipped the switch and the room went dark.She leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder, the rise of his body a warm anchor in the blackness. She felt his arm stiffen just a little beneath her and then release as he shifted, accommodating her more fully. The scent of him, mild soap and something just him, filled her senses, anchoring her.She slowly wrapped her arm around him, wanting to hold him in a soft hug, but he let loose a soft, pained breath."Careful," he murmured in a low tone. "Ribs are still a little tender and Tommy doesn't know what a soft hug means. I'm extra sore today.""Sorry," she whispered, releasing a little slack into her hold but still keeping her arm lightly around him.In the darkness, with the soft cadence of his breathing beside her, a wave of peace washed over her. Lying in silence, the quiet stretched between them, filled with the unsaid weight of all they had gone through, the comfort of simply being here, together. Her hand was lying on his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was an insubstantial kind of closeness, like holding onto something that might break at any moment, but she held on tight, melting into the heat he'd provide."Thank you… for tonight," she whispered, low, barely breaching the quiet of the room.His hand found hers, fingers brushing against hers in the dark, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice warm, tinged with something she couldn't quite place. "I'm glad I could help."They fell back into an easy, comfortable silence as Laura leaned her head against Travis's shoulder, his hand lying loosely atop hers. His warmth, the steady beat of his pulse, the faint scent of cedar that was something singularly him—soothed her. She hadn't felt so certain about anything in a very long time. She felt the rhythm of her breathing ease, her edges growing sleepier and sleepier.But something pulled her back, anchored her into the present. This was far too much like a dream—a moment she was scared to let slip away. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, quickened from what it had been before, and the way he tightened his arm around her, cinching her in a little closer, grounding her. She snuggled in closer, her lips brushing with soft gentleness, tentatively, against his chest.She lifted her head, her eyes adjusting to the darkness enough that she made out his form above her, and suddenly a need rose in her chest. She leant forward, nudging her nose against his cheek, feeling the rasp of his stubble against her skin."Hey," she breathed, her voice barely loud."Hm?" Low, a near hum, his tone was filled with an awareness that sent a thrill through her back. "Would you let me kiss you?" she asked, a shy note in her voice that almost made her pull back.His breath caught, and she could feel him tense slightly. "Laura…""Clothes stay on," she promised, giving him a faint, teasing smile.He hesitated. "I… don't know if that's a good idea.""Just a kiss, Travis," she coaxed softly. "I'm not asking for any kind of… lifelong vow of commitment. You're not getting my Netflix password."A soft sigh escaped him, lightening the moment, but his hand squeezed hers. "And what if I say no?""Then you go back to sleep, and I pray you don't remember this conversation in the morning," she whispered, her laugh shaking slightly.Travis stayed still, looking at the ceiling in quiet thought; and in a moment of charged silence afterward, he turned his face to her in the dark, his fingers' grip on her side tightening fractionally in wordless permission.She leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek first in the dark, searching for him. Her mouth found the corner of his lips, warm and unfamiliar against his bare skin—without the scratch of his beard, it was a jarring reminder of how new this was, how much changed. His scent, his warmth, though—those were unmistakably Travis.Her mouth drew a soft path across his, their lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss that yet lingered. His lips were warm, thin but inviting, and she found herself deepening it, her lips moving in a slow, delicate rhythm. A low hum escaped him, the soft brush of her hand in his cheek, tugging deeper as their breaths mingled in the darkness.When her tongue stroked his bottom lip, seeking and savoring, he replied in equal measured intensity, his mouth opening a bit wider, inviting her inside. The kiss deepened, never racing—no urgency, no desperation—only shared closeness. Her arms closed tighter around him, holding him as if holding something precious, and his mouth moved with hers in a way that left her feeling warm, cherished. She could taste him, a gentle hint of mint and something uniquely him as they shared this quiet connection she'd never known she needed this much.When they finally pulled back, their foreheads lying together, a soft, unstable breath escaped her. His hand lingered at her back, a soft reminder he was there—steady and real.They stayed that way for a moment, the silence settling easily around them as she whispered, "You know, if that's how you say goodnight, I could really get used to it."He let out a soft sigh; his voice was low with the warmth that had seeped over him. "Go to sleep, Laura. You don't need more reasons to keep me up all night.”Her laughter was soft, satisfied, burrowing back into him, her head on his shoulder again. There was a quiet silence and then:"Are you hard?" she teased with a sly smile, her tone light but laden with amusement.Travis froze for a moment, caught completely off guard. Then, groaning, he covered his face with one hand, his other arm instinctively shifting to push her slightly away. "Goddammit, Laura," he muttered, his ears flaming red. "You really have a talent for ruining perfectly good moments, don't you?"She laughed softly, delighted by his reaction, and snuggled back against his side, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder once more."Oh, come on, Sheriff," she said, still grinning. "It was a joke! Mostly."Travis groaned again, this time muffling it in his free hand. "You're impossible!""And yet," she quipped, eyes gleaming mischievously, "you're still stuck with me."He sighed dejectedly but could not suppress the faint smirk. "Remind me to reevaluate my life choices when I'm not being harased in my own goddamn bed."Her laughter softened to a contented hum as she snuggled in closer to him. Then the quiet of the night wrapped itself around them, and with her warmth pressed against him, Travis found himself smiling despite himself-grateful for her, teasing and all.Soon, her breathing evened out, the gentle rhythm of sleep taking her, leaving him awake just a little longer, a soft glow of affection warming his chest. The pink dawn light seeped softly into the room, laying a gentle pallor over the bed. Laura lay still, wrapped in the quiet warmth of the body beside her. The warmth she had not experienced in so long still felt tender enough to made her keep her eyes closed, savoring it. This wasn't like her mornings with Max, though. Travis's presence was different. His lean, taller frame was relaxed; his breathing, deep and steady. His scent was pine and leather, with a hint of aftershave, mellow enough to comfort in all the ways she wasn't prepared for. But too different to what she remembered with Max. She opened her eyes slowly, her head barely lifting off his shoulder. The morning light danced across Travis's face in soft shadow along his jaw. She marveled at the newness of his shorter hair mussed from sleep, and the way morning scruff bristled across his cheeks. The thin light of the morning fell across his face and gave him the appearance of being at peace, almost younger. Her heart swelled with a pang, an ache settling in her chest. Smiling, Laura leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the light prick of stubble under her lips.He gave a soft sigh, and she started to slip in quietly out of bed, stretching her arms with a small yawn, when a now-familiar voice cut into the silence."Isn't it a little early to be up on a Saturday, kid?" Travis's voice was low, sleep-roughened. She turned toward him to find one eye open and watching her, a slight smirk playing on his lips.She brushed a little, having been caught off guard. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you.""I've been awake for a while." He shifted on the bed, watching her with something akin to warmth in his eyes that seemed to melt the cool morning air.Laura burst out laughing. "You're so fucking cute, you know that?"He raised one eyebrow, looking a bit flustered. "Don't know about that. But I'll make some coffee.""I'll hold you to it," she teased, heading to the bathroom, already feeling the first waves of morning energy seep in. After freshening up, she went back into the kitchen, where Travis was busy cracking eggs into a pan, still in his pajamas. His hair was ruffled, with a few stray locks falling over his forehead, and she couldn't help but notice how endearingly at ease he looked."Coffee's ready," he said, nodding toward the counter where two steaming mugs waited. Laura wrapped her hands around the one with a plaid pattern, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.Travis glanced over, and then, as if inspired, set down his spatula. "Actually, I've got a better idea.""Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, curious."Hold on," he said, snatching the throw blanket off the couch and one of the jackets hanging by the door. He handed them to her with a smile. "Go sit on the porch, take my slippers. The sun's nice in the morning out there. I'll bring breakfast."Slightly surprised but amused, Laura took his jacket and blanket, slipping outside. The morning chill nipped at her skin as she stepped out, and extra layers were welcome. She settled onto the small, wooden bench on the porch, wrapping the throw around her legs as she held the coffee close to let the warmth seep into her hands. The steam mingled with her breath, both forming little clouds which drifted into the air.She took an exploratory sip of coffee, wincing slightly as the heat tingled her lips. Just as it was warming her through, Travis appeared in the doorway, his leather jacket slung over his pajama top, a sight that skipped a beat in her chest. He carried two plates loaded with eggs and toast and plunked down beside her on the bench, tucking the blanket over both their laps."Thanks," she said, taking her dish. She took a bite of eggs, savoring the simple, satisfying taste. "This place is nice," she murmured between bites, looking around. "It’s yours, or—?"Travis was smiling, his eyes scanning the treetops as he sipped at his coffee. "Belonged to my uncle. He passed it down to me when I got out of the military. No kids of his own, so I put it to use. It's closer to town than the quarry is so it was better for going to the station, and I like the feel of it—small, quiet. With a spare room for when— well, family visits."Laura remembered the inside from last night's quick glance before going to bed. It was a place that felt lived in, yet not worn, each piece of furniture placed with quiet simplicity. There were a couple of well-used chairs by the fire and some few framed photos on the walls as glimpses to a life so simple, full of history. There was this old TV up on the cabinet, some filled bookshelves lined with paperbacks and hardcovers, and—to her delight—a few familiar titles she recognized—ones she'd mentioned to him when they were messaging too.It felt like Travis was in here—the house itself carrying part of him, that quiet, understated warmth he had.
Travis gestured ahead, to the treetops, breaking her thoughts. "See those pines? That peak has the best sunline in the area; it's my favorite sunrise. But from here, this is a close second."Laura followed his gesture, the soft pinks and oranges painting the sky, softly running away the residual night. The sun showed through between the trees, casting a gentle, warm light over the forest."Beautiful," she breathed, a silent peace settling over her.They lapsed into an easy silence as they ate; the quiet morning was punctuated only by the soft clinking of their forks. After a little while Laura looked over at him, her lips curved into a teasing smile. "You really didn't have to do all this, you know."Travis met her gaze, a gentle warmth in his eyes. "I know," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "Feels good to share this with someone though."They finished breakfast, neither one quite ready to leave the comfort of the porch and the shared warmth of the blanket. But finally, Laura stretched her long legs and sighed. "You ready to show me the lodge at the camp?”Travis chuckled, rising and collecting the empty plates. "Guess I better get dressed, then."Laura grinned, catching the glimpse of his still-mussed hair and his grey pajama under the leather jacket. "Yeah, I wouldn't want the crew to think the boss is slacking off."He shot her a playful look, rolling his eyes. "It's Saturday, smartass, the camp is empty. Go get dressed, or I'll leave you here."She laughed and quickly nudged him as they stepped back inside. As they moved through the house, getting ready for the day, the memory of the morning seemed to go with them—a silent shared memory to cherish.They drove through town—the comfortable bickering between them filling the car as Laura fiddled with the radio. Every station she landed on seemed to make Travis sigh a little deeper until he finally raised his hands in mock defeat, letting her win. Laura grinned, satisfied, and settled on a classic rock station that seemed to fit the quiet streets they were passing through. North Kill looked almost sleepy, like the town was still waking up. Only a few stores were open, while the rest seemed locked up tight against the chill, shutters down, their signs swaying slightly in the breeze.Laura wrapped herself tighter in the jacket Travis had given her before they'd left his house. It was soft, warm, warmer that anything she brought with herself on this trip—too small to be his. Realization dawned on her as she thought about it; this must have belonged to one of his nephews. A small ache had settled in her chest when she glanced at him, knowing he was missing parts of his family that he couldn't reach. Some of them gone by her own hand. And now here she was, wearing something that must have held memories for him. When he'd handed it to her, he'd only said it might be her size, and that she could keep it if she liked it. Her fingers brushed over the sleeves, lingered on the worn patches, and a small part of her wanted to return it—to leave those memories intact. But another, more selfish part of her wanted to hold onto it, to keep this piece of him close, even though it wasn't hers to keep. This had been the first gift Travis had ever given her. If she didn't count her freedom, that was.She glanced across at Travis as he drove, eyes fixed on the road, his face softening in a mask of quizzical familiarity as he watched the passing town he grew up in.She leaned across quietly and studied him, her gaze drifting to his torso. She could almost feel the scars hidden under his shirt, beneath his leather jacket—the injuries she'd only seen in brief passing glances when they were trapped together, or when she bandaged some of them. She had even wondered how the last one—the bullet wound—would look on the sea of old marks in his skin. Every scar she'd glimpsed told a story, but one she could only guess at. He'd always managed to hide them, even on the hottest days, even after grueling workouts that left him dripping with sweat and gasping for air. She could only imagine his thoughts about them; would he consider them badges of honor, or perhaps they were something reminding him of things he'd rather leave buried deep in his past.His voice pulled her from those thoughts. "What?" he asked, catching her gaze with a flicker of curiosity.She looked away, startled, her embarrassment at getting caught out in staring making her cheeks flush. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Just—thinking."Travis raised an eyebrow. "You've got that look."She blinked, frowning a little. "What look?”He gifted her with a small smile, refocusing on the road. "That look you get when you're trying to figure something out. Like you're puzzling out some big mystery."She shrugged, giving him a sideways glance. "Maybe I am.""Oh yeah?" He sounded amused, the tone light, but beneath was a thread of softness. "What big mystery are you trying to solve this time?”Laura hesitated, then let her gaze drift back to his hands on the steering wheel—rough and strong, hands that had done both good and terrible things. "Just… you. I guess," she admitted softly, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine. "You're a bit of a mystery sometimes, Travis."He chuckled, though it sounded a little strained, and shook his head. "I'm not that interesting, believe me.”She looked over at him, holding his gaze a beat longer than she intended. "I think you're wrong about that."There was a silence, thick and heavy like the air between them, as her words sat among them. Laura could feel her heartbeat quicken and her grip on the jacket tighten as she looked back out to the road. Travis cleared his throat, breaking the silence, and fixed his eyes ahead.They drove, and the radio played a softer song now, as the sun was starting to rise higher, casting a soft glow over the trees lining the street. The familiar buildings of North Kill rolled by, and she couldn't help but think about being there with him, like a glimpse into a promise of a future she barely could grasp.Finally, the outline of the quarry's lodge came into view, its familiar structure a haunting reminder of everything they'd been through. She felt a shiver run through her—part anticipation, part unease. When Travis pulled into the lot, he parked next to her car and turned off the engine, letting thick silence settle in. They sat there for a moment, neither moving to get out.Travis turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Ready?She nodded, her fingers instinctively reaching for the collar of the jacket, pulling it close. "Yeah," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Let's go."With that, they stepped out into the chill of the morning air; the sun, not yet high overhead, cast long shadows over the quiet building as they walked together toward the stairs.The air was cool that morning, sharp in its bite, but Laura hardly noticed. Her eyes zeroed in on the yellow door at the base of the lodge—the one leading down to the basement. She stared for a moment, and in a flash of a second, memories came down rushing upon her: the picture of Max, blood and screams, the darkness of that place. A shiver ran up her spine, fastening her feet to the ground.There was suddenly an iron clamp on her wrist. She turned startled to find Travis standing next to her, his hand clamping her arm in a tight grip. Something haunted glimmered in his eyes, a taut gleam that thrust a pang through her chest. His breathing was taut, swift, as though he couldn't get enough oxygen.For a moment, she almost thought he would cry. The raw emotion on his face, the vulnerability, hit her with more force than any scream or flash of claws. She felt his fingers digging into her wrist, his need to hold her away from that terrible room.From the room that sealed her fate.She eased her arm free, only to slide her hand inside his, lacing their fingers together. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, feeling the calluses of his skin against her, the heat he emitted even in the cold of the morning. "Show me inside, Travs," she whispered, her voice soft yet sure.He swallowed hard, his gaze searching her face as if he was trying to retrieve in it the strength he had lost. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded; his hand squeezed hers a little tighter.The door stood before them; the brilliant yellow paint faded but still burned brightly against the cold walls. Taking a quivering breath, Travis rummaged inside his pocket and fished out a ring of keys. His fingers jittered slightly as he chose one and inserted it into the lock. A metallic click within the quiet was enough and, pushing the door open, he revealed the dark stairway.Memories tugged at Laura, weighing her down with a past that clung to cold walls and musty air. Yet she held fast onto Travis' hand, anchoring herself in the present—in this moment with him. The too-familiar scents of damp stone and metallic hints of old blood still lingered in the ghost-like in stagnant air.They went down the stairs, Travis's flashlight cutting through shadows and revealing forgotten rusting equipment, abandoned furniture, and floors bearing stains. Every sound echoed and reminded her of that summer night, the raw edges of fear lying just beneath her poised veneer.Travis's voice was low as he gestured around, almost as if speaking louder would break the fragile spell in the air. "Would you want me to leave?" he murmured, his tone regretful. Laura noticed his discomfort—he kept his focus on her, watching her reaction to each new sight. "I don't think that it is good for me to be here with you.”
After what I did.
She shook her head, swallowing as she took the long crowded space. Her fingers brushed against the stone as if she could still feel Max's presence, his fear, and the love they'd shared in the few moments before it all fell apart.Travis cleared his throat, trying to break the tense silence. "We…we don't have to stay down here if it's too much. I know this place…" His voice caught in his throat as he hesitated to continue because saying it aloud would make him echo his guilt. He wasn't only worried for himself. Every corner they turned seemed deeper with that shadow in his eyes, knowing he'd been the one who had sedated her here before holding her prisoner.She shook her head, giving his hand a small squeeze. "It's okay. I want to see it. I need to see it." Her words came out steady, though her voice quivered ever so slightly. Laura kept her gaze on the place where Max had fallen after being attacked by the werewolf. A heaviness fell across her heart.Travis stood close, his hand still holding her, ready to guide her forward or back. She felt him tighten his hold on the flashlight, its light shaking just a bit as it shone down on a faded dark stain on the floor—the concrete too tricky to clean it completely. She took a shuddering breath, memories of Max flashing in her mind—his transformation, his tortured cries.Travis gave her a gentle push forward. "If it gets too much, just say so." His voice was soft, laced with a protective edge, though his eyes refused to meet hers. The air was thick with memories, the weight of shared trauma hanging between them, unspoken.At last, they stopped, side by side, in the middle of the room. The silence of the basement wrapped itself around them. Then, in a moment, Laura nodded toward the stairs leading outside. "Let's go up. There's nothing left down here."Travis let out a small, relieved sigh and led her toward the staircase. As they began to make their way up, the cold shadows of the basement fell away to the warm light filtering in from the lodge above them. Nothing would erase the past now, but with every step they took together, the ease in moving forward was better.He led her up into the lodge, unlocking the front door with a worn key from his ring.Inside, the lodge was dark, shafts of winter sunlight streaming through grimy windows and illuminating corners of a room that seemed not to have hosted campers in ages. Tables lined the walls, covered with tarps and blankets to catch dust and debris as the maintenance crew worked on the large stone fireplace centered in the room. Scaffolding detailed the structure, giving it an almost skeletal appearance in the open space. "What happened here?" Laura let out a low whistle, eyeing the broken stones and charred edges where the stone had clearly seen better days."Officially, structural issues," he said grimly. "Unofficially…""One of our friends, huh?"Travis's eyes flickered away, his lips thinning. "It's been tough the last few months for the place," he said, shooting her a glance that spoke volumes without a word. "But I've got plans for it.""Well, you are the expert. Take me on the tour then?" There was softness in her voice, and though it had sounded casual, he could hear in her tone that she was looking forward to seeing more. "If this is going to reopen, I want to see whether it's worth it."He motioned for her to follow him and took her through the heart of the lodge, pointing out the various repairs that were in process and the new features he planned to add. The great room, with its high ceiling and its exposed timber beams, retained the rustic charm that had drawn generations of campers back summer after summer. Still, with the scattered tools and disarray, the building felt raw, unfinished—a skeleton waiting life's breath.“We're trying to bring back that original feel, you know, make it safer of course, but still have that rustic look, something that makes campers feel like they are back in the woods, away from… everything."Laura looked around, nodding thoughtfully. "A place that feels real, like it's still got stories to tell.""Exactly." He softened his tone. "That's the goal, anyway." He walked over to the great windows that overlooked the campgrounds. "The porch needs repair, and we are going to expand the seating here. Got plans on new lights, maybe even a few better fire pits in the back. Keep it safe but… authentic."“Sounds like a tall order. But it seems like you're up for it.”"There were lots of donations; we haven't even reached half the amount donated yet.""Wow, do you have any plans as to what to do with the rest? Because I can make a travel budget list," she said jestingly. "Yes, I do, but one step at a time."They walked the halls, the lodge groaning softly beneath their feet. Travis pointed out where wiring needed updating, where the roof needed shoring up. She listened, absorbing each detail, the quiet pride in this place radiating with every word.He walked her through to the back rooms, showing her cramped storage closets, even pointing out the old trophy case behind which faded camp photographs and dusty trophies sat behind glass. As she looked at the sepia-toned pictures of kids and counselors long ago, she felt a pang of nostalgia."Do you ever think about putting your picture up here?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing smirk.Travis made a dry sound that was almost laughter. "Don't think the world needs that," he muttered, running a hand over the old wood. But then his smile did falter, a look of wistfulness crossing his face before he turned and led her out to the front porch. The air outside was brisk, and the light had shifted, casting long shadows over the campgrounds.They walked around the camp the whole afternoon, from one memory-filled point to another. He led her to the cabins. She saw there the improvements he would do; mostly patch up some broken windows and doors. She walked with caution, taking in every little detail: the tips of her fingers on the rough wood of cabin doors, feeling it for its history.They reached the nurse station—a small hut with a faded red cross painted in the door. Travis had spoken of stocking it with much better medical supplies and making it so much more accessible in case of an emergency. Laura's expression gently took in the little sterile space. They walked to the radio station, where equipment lay under sheets, collecting dust. "This place needs some real work," he admitted, looking around. "But it's worth it if we want to keep everyone connected. There'll be better signal coverage, maybe even a setup where the campers can use it for music or announcements. The roof needs some work; there is a lot of damage in the structure.”She laughed low and sweet, just thinking about the bedlam of a camp full of people trying to hijack the airwaves. "Imagine the song requests."He grinned, his shoulders easing as he joined her laughter. "They can learn to live with it, I suppose. Good practice in patience.”She stepped inside the pool house but couldn't help herself — she stopped right at the door. The place smelled old, and though it was once the site of unimaginable horrors, it felt like just another part of the camp now. Travis seemed to pick up on her hesitation; he kept his distance, giving her all the time she needed to have a look around."This place is gonna need some work. There's a hole in the wall, some tiles broke over what looks like a fight," he said softly. Laura looked at him, feeling the weight of everything they'd shared in this place. "You're really doing this," she murmured. "You're making it better."He nodded; his gaze steady. "Trying to. Feels like something worth doing."The sun was low, casting that golden warm glow over the camp, and they found themselves back on the porch of the lodge. Travis leaned against the wooden railing, watching her as she gazed out over the grounds."Tomorrow," he said quietly, "it'll look different, you know? One day, this place will be filled with kids and laughter again. That's the dream, at least.".Laura leaned beside him, her hand brushing his. She looked at him, her eyes soft and thoughtful. "It's a good dream."They watched the day slide into evening, the blush of sunset inking everything around them in soft, amber light. The silence between them was made up of all those words still unspoken, the memories that had not yet healed. Laura leaned on the porch railing, turning to him thoughtfully, with a new question on her lips."What about… you know, the house?" she asked softly.Travis stiffened beside her, his face constricting at the thought. Just the mention of it, the house—the familiar looming shadow of Hackett history—called up memories he'd been trying to bury. His jaw clenched and he turned away, his hands clamping onto the railing hard enough that his knuckles went white."I have plans for it, but—" He cut himself off, swallowing hard, words catching in his throat. "I need to empty it first, and… I haven't had the strength to get in yet."She turned to him, eyes soft with understanding. "Do you want me to go with you?" she offered softly. "I can help if you need it."Travis's fingers dug into the wood as his body went taut with memories that tumbled in, raw and unbidden. He didn't see the house as four walls and a roof; he saw it as a prison—a prison that had finally come to be. He'd walked out of those halls with one goal in mind: to keep Laura alive, to keep her safe.He turned to her, his voice low, laced with a seriousness that surprised even him. "I'd burn it to the ground before I let you step foot in that house again."Laura looked up at him, her eyes widening at the harshness in his tone, but she didn't back away. "Don't say that," she said quietly. "It might help me. To go back there, to face it, to see it all in daylight…"He closed his eyes, wincing at the gut-punch of her words. The thunderous roar of his own memories drowning out her suggestion. He saw himself in that cellar, leading her through every merciless, numb hour. He could still feel the weight of that place pressing down on him, the cold of the stone, the constant hum of the electrified bars keeping them trapped, keeping him close enough to her but powerless to do anything more than survive.
The red room.
"It's not about you,” he said, tautly; a quiver of pain escaped into his voice. “It's about me too.”She said nothing, digesting his words, his expression raw and unguarded. She had not truly understood, not fully, what he must have gone through. She had her own scars, her fears that the walls of that basement had branded into her mind, but she knew now that she was not alone in that memory. And it struck her fully, for all those months, every single minute he'd kept himself from falling apart had been for her.He swallowed, his grip on the railing loosening, though his hands still trembled. "I stayed up every night, just waiting, knowing that with one wrong move—one wrong word, one mistake—and you wouldn't make it out of there alive. You were the only thing keeping me going. Every time I looked at you, every time I watched you… you kept me from giving in."Laura's throat caught. She reached for his hand on the railing, laying hers over his, feeling the tension still thrumming through him. His pulse pounded hard beneath her fingers, and he was silent, eyes distant as he looked out over the quiet campgrounds."I don't believe I could walk back into that house and see those walls again," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not with you there. Not after everything. It felt like… like a war zone," he said, his voice hoarse. "And even after everything ended… the nightmares didn't."She squeezed his hand, anchoring him with her warm and steady touch. "I understand," she said softly.He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers, and what was there was raw and open, like a wound still healing. Laura's heart faltered at what this cost him, at the idea that she had never really seen, witness just how deep his own scars cut. She'd thought he had been stoic, strong, unbreakable. But now, seeing him like this, she knew that he was anything but.She leaned in closer, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. "Travis, we're both out of there now. The walls… they don't have power over us anymore. Not unless we let them."He nodded, but she could make out the shadow of hesitation following behind his gaze, the fear that wouldn't leave him alone. He didn't answer right away, and silence once more fell between them, filled only by soft sounds of the forest in the evening.Finally, he exhaled loudly and shakily. "Perhaps—perhaps someday, but not now. Not this weekend." Turning his glance back toward the house afar, just that mere shadow was enough to ignite in him the memories he had sought to outrun. “How about you take your car back to my place, so we don't have to drive back when you gotta go?” he said, looking towards the fading light in the sky. She cocked an eyebrow, some amusement dancing in her eyes. "I could grab us some takeout on the way?"He shook his head, a small, warm smile curling his lips. "No need. Figured I could cook for both of us tonight."She blinked in surprise, then tilted her head, a soft, appreciative smile breaking through. “Alright, but I’m stopping at the shops for essentials and toiletries.” Her tone carried a teasing lilt, the kind that made the corners of her mouth twitch with barely contained amusement.Travis chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “Essentials, huh? Don’t fill the car up with junk food, kid.”Laura took the lead out of Hackett's Quarry in her car, the small vehicle bouncing over the uneven dirt roads until it found smoother ground. Travis followed in his truck, keeping a steady pace as the sun began to dip lower on the horizon. From his vantage point, he could see Laura's silhouette behind the wheel, one hand resting casually on the wheel while the other tapped out an erratic rhythm.He could feel, even from this distance, the loose tension in her, the humming along with the music he couldn't hear, her frequent looks out the window where orange and purple streaks painted the sky.It looked like Laura was comfortable with herself, and that fact tugged a little on his chest. He was still not sure if the tugging feeling was pride or envy.As they hit the highway, her car signaled to take an exit. Travis blinked; this wasn't the most direct route to his house. His phone buzzed on the dashboard, and he picked it up to see a message from Laura.
‘Shortcut. Follow me. Trust me.’
“Shortcut my ass," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. But he smiled and obliged, keeping his truck close as they wound through backroads flanked by endless lines of trees.Eventually, her car swerved into a small parking lot outside a roadside shop that looked like it belonged to another era. She pulled into a spot near the entrance, waving an arm out of her open window to beckon him closer.Travis parked and stepped out, leaning on his door as Laura hopped out of her car, the picture of mischief and ease."What? You really need essentials and toiletries right now?""Absolutely, you stay here, Sheriff. I'll take care of it."She strode into the small, brightly lit store before he could utter a word of protest. Travis leaned back and watched her through the windshield as she moved with purpose, grabbing a basket and weaving through the aisles. He shook his head and chuckled to himself, guessing she was loading up on snacks she'd call "essentials" and not actual necessities.A few minutes later, she returned with a bag bursting at the seams, walking steady towards her car. "Mission accomplished.""What'd you get?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.She reached in and started pulling out her haul: a pack of granola bars, a couple of small bottles of shampoo and conditioner, toothpaste, and, predictably enough, a stash of chocolate bars and chips that buried the actual groceries. She even held up a single can of beer with a grin.Travis sighed, shaking his head once more as he got into his car. "Junk food and toiletries. Great. Just what we needed."“Relax, Mr. Domestic," she teased. "I got you the good kind.""Uh-huh," he replied dryly, though the faintest trace of a smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled back onto the road.The sun lowered farther as they approached his house, where the orange glow of the dusk spilled over the horizon. By the time they did finally arrive, the stars just started to scatter the night sky. They were carrying her bags inside as well, laughing about how Laura was able to justify getting half the store.“You sure you weren't buying gifts for everyone at camp?" Travis asked, eyeing the haul now spread across his kitchen counter."Just for me," she shot back. "But I'm ok sharing some with you in exchange of dinner."He smirked and nudged her toward the living room. "Go get comfortable. I'll figure out what to do with all of this.""Yes, sir," she said, giving a fake salute as she disappeared into the next room. Travis himself remained in the kitchen for another minute, staring at the array of groceries with an amused shake of his head, already feeling like his quiet home was warmer with her in it.Dinner prep proved to be much more of an affair than either one of them had expected. Laura, being the opportunist that she was, continually snatched bites of everything when Travis's back was turned—snatching up a slice of carrot or any vegetable that was at a grabbing distance."Stop eating the ingredients, for crying out loud!" he grumbled, swatting at her hand with a spatula.“It’s quality control!” she argued, the laughter in her voice making him roll his eyes even as a grin betrayed his stern demeanor.“You’re gonna complain later that you’re not hungry.”“I’ll save room, Sheriff,” she shot back, popping another piece of stolen vegetable into her mouth.By the time they sat down to eat, she had to admit he wasn’t kidding when he said he’d make something good. “You’re full of surprises, Hackett,” Laura said, giving an approving nod as she scooped up another forkful.“Don’t get used to it,” he replied gruffly, though the hint of pride in his voice didn’t go unnoticed.After dinner, they slid into the soft comfort of the living room, the simple pleasures of quiet companionship settling in. Laura stretched out along the couch, her legs resting lazily across his lap as he leaned back, an arm stretched across the back of the couch.Her phone buzzed, cutting through the stillness. She groaned but picked it up, her mother’s name lighting up the screen. She answered reluctantly, prepared for the worry in her mom’s voice to wash over her.“Mom, I’m fine,” Laura reassured gently, her voice firm but kind. “I’m with Travis.”She didn't miss the audible sigh of relief that echoed from the other end of the line. "Take care of yourself, honey," her mother whispered, the thickness in her voice so palpable, and then the line went quiet.Laura set her phone down, her gaze drifting back to Travis. He'd watched her quietly during the call, his face serene yet attentive, as if every word she said was important.She stared at him a moment longer, her lips curving into a soft, reflective smile. There was something grounding about him—his presence, the steadiness of his nature—even when everything around her had once felt like it might come undone."You're really amazing," she said finally, her voice quiet, yet carrying a depth of appreciation.He looked at her, one brow raising slightly. "Why?"Laura shrugged, smirking. "Just thinking how lucky I am to have someone who cares enough to shoo me away from eating raw chicken."Travis snorted. "Gotta keep you from killing yourself somehow."“You’re doing great,” she teased, tapping his leg with her foot as they both settled back into the quiet, letting the rest of the world fade for just a little longer.Time slipped away in a satisfying silence as they shared stories and laughter, speaking about his books and about inconsequential memories. It was one of those nights when words were not always necessary. At one point, Laura glanced toward the small kitchen and realized how quietly simple his life was here, orderly yet warm, as he was.As the night deepened, they moved to his bedroom, both slipping into pajamas, books in hand under the soft light of the nightstand lamp. Laura's legs brushed his as she shifted closer under the covers, finding an ease in their shared presence, the soft rhythm of his breathing sowing silence. There was something warm in that quiet intimacy, a feeling she hadn't had in months. She nearly asked for another goodnight kiss, but the peace that radiated from within them told her it wasn't needed. At that moment, she had all she would ever want.They drifted off to sleep, lying together, the glow outside casting a soft, silvery light across the room, bathing them in all the soft intimacy of a timeless bond.On Sunday, hours slipped away like minutes as Laura poured over Travis's bookshelves, running her fingers over worn spines and cracked bindings. She lost herself in his collection of old law enforcement manuals, dog-eared field guides, and even a few battered novels tucked away on the higher shelves. The faint scent of aged paper and wood polish filled the air as she pulled out book after book, leafing through the pages and imagining the man he'd been when these books had mattered most.It wasn't until deep into the afternoon, when her explorations brought her around to a small display tucked discreetly to the side of the room, that among old photographs and a handful of trophies sat his honorary plaque—the one he had gotten at his retirement party. Laura paused as her breath caught in her throat; her fingers delicately traced the edge of the wood, feeling the weight of its silent significance. The photo beside it showed Travis, his smile restrained yet present, standing stiffly between two former colleagues.In that frozen moment, she could feel an era passing—years of duty, sacrifice, and burdens she could hardly comprehend—all wrapped up in that single, unassuming picture. A chapter he'd closed without fanfare, as he did everything else in his life: quietly, with dignity, and without complaint. The thought settled over her like a fragile understanding. He was gone from that world already, step by silent step. And maybe—just maybe—he was building a new one, one where she could fit.She was there way longer than she had expected, the heaviness of her thoughts now strangely laced with hope. It wasn't until Laura got back in her car on Sunday evening to drive onto campus that this weight eased. Her heart was lighter now, her head full of images from those few days: shared laughter, the sound of his quiet chuckle over coffee, the warmth of his hand resting atop hers.And the memory of a kiss.That memory followed her, replaying in the quiet hum of the car engine, in the shuffle of her steps across campus. It felt like a secret she wasn't ready to share even with herself—as if voicing it would make it disappear.The days that followed her leaving were days of silence for Travis, but not the same stifling silence to which he had grown accustomed in his home. Simple hints of Laura's existence remained with him as he followed his routine day after day: an echo that hadn't quite died. The gentle impression of her hand on the coffee table, her coffee mug in the sink, the scent of her hair in his pillow, her perfume still clinging to the bathroom, the pajamas she has borrowed, her shampoo in the shower.But most of all, his gaze always fell to the toothbrush she bought on their way back from the camp at that old store.It stood in a glass by the sink, next to his own—a small, unobtrusive thing, with its bright yellow handle. A silent smile overspread his face each time he noticed it. It wasn't just a toothbrush—it was proof, however small, of something more durable. A reminder that their time together wasn't passing, or locked into ancient shadows. It was a little piece of her that she had left in his world—a small anchor, holding her place in his present even when she was gone.He found himself looking at it every morning when he woke up and every night before going to bed; his heart would ease at the sight. And as days passed on, the toothbrush became more than a reminder; it became a symbol of what he hoped for—something stable, something lasting, something to build upon.For the first time in weeks, the silence didn't feel quite so lonely.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Laura went back to campus after the whole weekend on North Kill, she knew that at the first chance she got she owed Nuria an apology. The guilt was a deep wound in her chest; she had overreacted and let her fears get in the way of a blooming friendship. When she saw Nuria the next day in class, she took a deep breath and walked over to her, steeling herself for the worst. Her lab partner seemed shy and reserved, Laura thought, but her apologetic smile did encourage her to continue."May I explain?" Laura asked, her voice softer than usual. Nuria gave a small nod, and Laura shared a sliver of her story—she spoke about what happened during the summer without going into all the details, but mentioning Travis and his calming presence over her and, especially, about her struggle with the color red. She could hardly believe she was opening up about this, and yet, in a strange kind of way, she could almost feel Travis's quiet, comforting presence urging her to trust a little more. To try again.They talked; Nuria listened patiently, understanding flickering in her eyes, then she smiled and offered a fresh start. Before long, they were back to their usual banter, dissecting samples in the lab and talking about classes. The air was filled with shared laughter and easy conversation, easing the last of Laura's tension. Nuria took Laura to her roommates, who just happened to be abuzz with plans for a surreptitious birthday party for one of their friends. A jolt of surprised excitement ran through Laura—her first real invitation into something normal, an evening that didn't involve dark memories or the weight of her past. She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts drifting to her tentative plans for that weekend.She had planned to go back to North Kill. She missed Travis even if she just left her home not even a couple of days ago. It tugged at her not to go, an odd pang of guilt rising in her. But the more she thought about it, the more it felt like doing something normal—something carefree—might be the best thing she could do for both of them.He’d been insistent, after all, that she work on her own healing. He’d told her time and again to take time for herself, to reconnect with the life she’d left behind. As much as Travis would’ve liked to see her, Laura knew he’d appreciate her having a weekend that was the most similar to the ones she had before last summer.Nuria had to decline regretfully. She was working a late shift at the bookshop, which coincided with the party, tied up with a professor's book signing that had the entire store abuzz. "I tried switching with someone else, but the signing's a big deal," she said, shaking her head with a sheepish grin. "Still, you go and have fun. I've heard there will be a couple of guys from the Chemistry course."She smiled softly, her chest warming up with all the gratitude. The fact that things were coming along, and excitement was building in and around her was undeniably the spark she'd needed—a lightness of feeling, a joy, without the weight of anything that had happened."Count me in," she replied, already eager to be a part of the student world again. She even offered to be an extra help, since they were a bit short without Nuria. Every afternoon, she texted Travis, talking about her new friends and the party prep. She laughed when picturing the building itself. The party was held in one of the weirdest old houses on campus—a three-story Victorian leftover that the fraternity had rented years earlier, legendary among students for its odd structure and virtually haunted atmosphere.“It's hard to miss, such a sore eye," she told him one evening before going to sleep, already lying on her bed. The best time to call Travis. "It's this huge place with dark paint; it looks like it's straight out of an old horror movie. I swear there's a gargoyle carved into one of the pillars on the porch."She described the house in detail, with a sharply sloping gabled roof casting shadows over the wrap-around porch, and ironwork on the windows that seemed more bars than ornamentation. On one side, a tall tower stretched upwards, capped by a pointed roof; its dark, mysterious windows were often likened to something from The Addams Family.Travis sounded happy for her and kept his responses simple, but she knew he was relieved she was finally experiencing some sense of normalcy. Still, she couldn't help but wish he could come, even though she knew the chaos of a college party wasn't his cup of tea. Besides, being together might spark memories in anyone who recognized them both from the news—too much attention she didn't need if she wanted to be left alone in campus. And her attorney had already warned her to keep it all to herself before the trial.And then, before she knew it, the night of the party finally arrived. Laura had spent the day helping the rest hang up decorations and set up tables of snacks, red cups, and pitchers of soda and punch. The room was in almost complete darkness but cozy, bathed in the soft glow of string lights they'd wrapped along the walls and door frames. She was in her favorite fitted white top and jeans, with the splash of the silver jewelry glinting against the low lighting. She'd kept her makeup light but sharp, the swipe of the dark eyeliner lending her a hint of confidence.The interior of the house itself was a classic campus rental, a little worn around the edges with creaky floors and faded wallpaper, but with its own charm. There were mismatched posters on the walls, and a second-hand sofa sat in the corner with a quilt covering it. Laura couldn't help but smile at the chaotic comfort of it all. The place buzzed with anticipation as the roommates darted around, making last-minute adjustments and laughing over the little things. Someone was putting balloons in clusters, tying them to the chairs, stair handrails and door handles, while another friend was finishing up with the drink station. Laura from time to time would even sneak a few messages to Travis about how things were going and how excited she was. He kept demanding for her to turn her phone off and enjoy the moment. She just smiled at his texts.In the meantime, the music began right on schedule, just as the guest of honor came in, and everybody waited in the corners to shout, 'Happy Birthday!'. The birthday boy stepped inside, his expression switching from startled surprise to a wide grin as cheers erupted around him. Laura couldn't help but laugh, caught up in the joy of the moment, her smile joining in to contribute to the warmth of the celebration.Soon enough, the DJ came along and brought another level of energy into the house. Somebody hit the lights, turning off all the main lamps except for the colored ones the DJ had brought with him. The beat pulsed through the room; a mix of upbeat pop and electronic tracks echoed through the air as even more guests joined the dance floor. The DJ adjusted the lighting to start rotating through different colors.A glow of green bathed the room, casting an almost surreal light on everything. People were laughing, hooting as the lights shifted and the energy picked up—a collective excitement simmering just beneath the beat of the music.Then the room was yellow, bathing everything in a warm, golden haze.Laura smiled stiffen as people danced and swayed to the music, feeling brightness around her. The abandonment of joy in everyone about her made her heart light, such a contrast to the tension that had weighed on her for so long.The lights changed again, this time to blue. And she could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her brain caught up for what was about to come.
Red.
The phone rang sharply cutting through the quiet evening, jolting Travis out of his thoughts and dragging him back to the present. He had been finishing dinner on the couch, halfway through some random action movie on TV, when the song 'Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting' blared from his phone speaker and startled him. He didn't even know it could make that sound; he was so used to the gentle, familiar chirps of Laura's texts.He looked at the screen; it was Laura. With a confused frown, he brought the phone into earshot, hearing the muffled sounds of a party in the background. For a second, he thought she just pocket dialed in the middle of a dance, already knowing all her more eccentric dance moves. Then he caught something else—a fast breathing. "Laura?" he asked, the worry creeping into his voice immediately. "Is everything okay?"She spoke through her shaking breaths. "Travis."Travis jumped off the couch, his heart racing in an instant pacing. "What's going on? Where are you?""The lights… the fucking lights," she whispered, her voice no more than a murmur over the noise at her end. It was the panic lacing her tone that cut through him."What's wrong with the lights?" he pushed, trying to remain calm, trying to comprehend.“They're—they're red," she choked out, and suddenly it clicked.
Damn it.
He could almost see it—the colored lights at the party, cycling through their garish hues until, inevitably, one hit red.Laura had been thrown back to that basement, trapped in those terrible memories."Listen to me, sweetheart," he whispered, and though she couldn't see him he wished she could feel his reassuring hand rest on her shoulder. "Just breathe. You're safe. I'm right here."His voice was steady, the anchor in her storm as he talked her through the panic. Still, her breaths came quicker and the panic still clawed at her: "I tried to ignore it— I haven’t had a panic attack in weeks—I thought that I could just let it be—but every time I looked up, it turned red again, and all I could see—”"I know, I know. But you're not there. You're at a party. There are people there, and you're free." Travis took another calming breath, trying not to raise his voice. "I want you to look around, okay? Tell me what's in the room. Where are you in the house?""I'm in a bedroom upstairs, managed to get out of there but it's like it's embed in my fucking eyes, can't go back out.""Just focus on what's around you. Is there anything in there? Tell me what you see."Her eyes darted around the tiny space, catching sight of a bed, a mirror, some forgotten textbooks, and a pile of clothes on the floor. "There's—a bed, a mirror—Clothes everywhere," she mumbled. The room was so surreal it felt as though she were floating somewhere between reality and a sea of raw memories clawing at her soul."Good. Keep going. What else is in there? Anything by the window?" His voice was low, gentle, leading her through some slow dance. "Keep talking to me, Laura.""There's… there's a poster by the window, something about… saving the whales or…" she trailed off, her mind falling back to the lights. "But it's still… it's still flashing red out there, Travis. I thought it would stop, but every time it turns red, it's like… like I'm back there, and my hands—they are covered in—"
Your blood.
Her voice cracked, and she gripped the phone tighter, hoping it could somehow anchor her to him. Travis's voice went lower, his words wrapped in a comforting warm tone. "Laura, I’m alive, your hands are clean and you're safe. You're not in that basement anymore. We're miles away, remember? I'm right here with you. Keep holding on to that."Her breathing slowed, but her panic was still sharp around the edges. "I don't know. I'm… I'm really trying. But it's too much. I just…”"Alright, let's get your mind off it," he said softly, an idea coming into his mind. "Remember that stray cat you told me about? The one that sometimes follows you right to class? Tell me about him."A soft tugged smile on her lips, but her tone was still a little shaky. "Yeah… I think he's made himself a regular. Nuri named him Biscuit… and I think he's getting fatter every day from all the snacks we're giving him.""That's my girl, saving every stray in town," he chuckled low and reassuringly. "You think Biscuit would be a fan of camp next summer?"Caught off guard by his question, her defenses were down long enough to let a weak laugh tumble out. "You… you want me at camp next summer?""Of course I do. How else could I teach you to make s'mores without burning them?”She snuffled, rubbing a tear from her cheek. "I'd probably burn those too. Weren’t you going to take me on a hike to teach me? I don't even know how you can make a mountain hike sound good." She remembered how they talked during the week about that mountain that Travis pointed out on her first visit to his home, the peak with Travis’ favorite sunrise. "It's not just good, it's amazing. I'll take you on the best one yet. Just wait and see." His voice was a promise, anchoring her in its warmth. "Speaking of forgetting things, you know you left your toothbrush at my place, right?”This time she laughed for real, the sound catching her off guard. "Yeah, I might've done that on purpose.""Oh, I knew it," he teased, his own chuckle filling her ear. "Guess I'll have to hold it hostage until you come back. Go through all the interrogation sessions."Laura focused on his words, clinging to them like a lifeline. "Do you… do you think I'd be a good camp counselor?"“You'd be great," he said with a warm smile that she could even hear in his voice, the sound like a balm to her frazzled nerves. "The kids would love you."They kept talking—Travis leading her through her fear, painting a vivid picture of summers yet to come. He spoke about hikes they would take, campfires they would build, and all the little things they would do to make up for lost time; how he wanted to take her fishing in the lake, and couldn't wait to show her the lodge after the renovations. Every story pulled her further from her fear, the sounds of the party fading into the background, replaced with his voice, steady and warm.When a knock came at the door, she barked out, "Back off, we're busy!" which had Travis chuckling on the other end."Way to keep 'em away," he teased, making her feel a little more in control with each laugh they shared.The minutes ticked into hours as they talked about everything and nothing—her classes, a trip he wanted to take now that he was retired, her dream of visiting Italy again. She described pizza in Naples, and he half-seriously told her he'd take her on a European food tour. "You're spoiling me," she said, her heartbeat finally slowing, with a soft laugh. "I almost believe it.”At long last, the panic began to recede and left her drained but calm. She leaned back against the door, her breaths even as she held the phone to her ear."Laura," he whispered, quiet but resolute. "It's late now. I want you to get home safe, alright?"Her pulse surging once more, a spark of anxiety returning. "I… I can't. I can still see the lights under the door. They haven't stopped yet."Travis's voice came through the line steady as a rock, unswerving. "Laura, listen to me," he said softly yet with firmness that steadied her. "I know you're scared. But you've been through so much worse and come out stronger. You're going to make it through this too, alright?”“I—I can't," she whispered, swallowing hard as she pressed herself against the door, completely tense. The faint lights from downstairs kept flashing beneath the door, sending eerie shadows reaching for her mind to draw her back to memories she struggled to keep at bay."You are stronger than this. So much stronger. You hunted two werewolves!”"Yeah, they would have had the upper hand if they'd caught me under a red light.""I really don't think so. And even if they did, which they don't, I'm still right here with you," he appeased her with his smooth voice, almost reassuring. "Focus on my voice. Just follow it. Step by step."Her hands were shaking, and she bit her lip, staring at the door handle as if it were a bridge she needed to cross. "But it's—It just… it's too much," she stammered, feeling the prick of tears at the corners of her eyes. She didn't let them fall. “You know what to do," he said softly, almost as if he was leaning beside her, taking her hand. "It's just a color. It's nothing. You're going to keep moving, and you're going to see me when you step outside. That's all you need to focus on right now. Nothing else matters.”Laura closed her eyes, his words settling over her like a blanket of calm, easing her pulse ever so slightly. She breathed deep, letting the familiarity of his voice pull her from the dark edges of her thoughts.She took another breath, focused on the sound of his voice, letting it overpower the noise from the party and the memories clawing at her from out of the darkness. And with one final nod, she stood up and reached for the handle as his silent strength steadied her for that first step toward the door.The line went quiet. "Are you… you really here? Like, on campus?" she asked in this tiny, fragile voice."Would I ever lie to you?" he said softly. "Then why don't you come inside to pick me up?" she whispered, trying to drag the time as much as she could. "Do you really want to crash your friend's party with a cop?""Retired cop," she corrected.“They know who I am, my face was all over the news. So no, just take a breath for me, kid. Slow, just like we practiced. Remember?" he said, with soft patience. "Focus on your breathing, not the light. And take one step. Just one."She took a trembling breath, her knuckles white on the phone as if it was her only anchor to reality, and nodded though he couldn't see her. "Okay," she whispered. "One step. I can do that.”"That's right, just one. I'll stay on the phone the whole way," he promised. "You're going to walk down those stairs and straight out the door. And as soon as you do, you'll see me waiting for you. I'm not going anywhere, Laura."He continued to talk to her, keeping her calm, his words a soft push, easing her out of her terror. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she took a ragged breath. "Okay. I'm… I'm going to open the door."He nodded, as if she could see him. "That's my girl. One step at a time. I'm right here."Laura's fingers shook as they made contact with the lock, the cool weight of the handle against her skin. The heavy thump of the bass echoed even through the wood, each beat tightening around her chest like a vice. She took an unsteady deep breath, pressing her phone closer to her ear in the hope the sound of Travis's calm voice would cut through the chaos swirling around her.“You're doing so great, sweetheart—just a few more steps," Travis said in a hushed tone, his voice low and even, an anchor pulling her back to shore.Her hand quaked on the handle that felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as she turned it. She slipped out of the room, racing heart, pulse loud in her ears. With every step, she was literally fighting a small war as she continued down the hall. The sudden flash of red lights from the main room hit her like a wave and brought a flicker of panic to her chest, but Travis's voice came to steady her."You've got this. Just keep going, Laura. Think about the fresh air outside."She willed her legs on and practically tumbled down the stairs. Every step was longer, each face in the crowd a blur as she kept her gaze down, determined to avoid eye contact. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps while the red light pulsed around her, tugging at memories she couldn't afford to relive now. Her knuckles were hurting, her hold on her phone was so tight, and she continued to pay attention to the steady sound of Travis's voice."You're almost there," he coaxed softly. "Focus on the door. Picture it. You're doing great."She barely noticed the cool night air as she finally slipped outside, tumbling down the steps, and almost tripping when her foot hit the sidewalk. Her eyes fluttered shut as she drew in a deep, shuddering breath, feeling the crisp wind fill her lungs. The pounding in her chest gradually began to slow as she stood still, letting coolness wash over her, easing the weight so recently pressed down upon her.Travis's voice was calm and even over the phone. "See? You did it, Laura. You're outside, and you're safe."Laura opened her eyes, her gaze drifting over the quiet street, the stretched shadows in the glow of the streetlights. A tide of relief washed over her, peace finally replacing the dread that had chased her out of that house. She exhaled a shaky breath, her voice barely more than a whisper."Thanks, Travis."But then, she realized, there was no sign of him in the streets.She felt her heart drop. She clutched the phone up to her ear. "You lied, didn't you?"Travis let out a soft sigh. "I knew you could do it on your own. You didn't need me there to hold your hand this time."For a moment, she wanted to be angry, but pride blossomed in her chest, and she allowed herself a small smile. "You ass," she muttered, though there was no real venom in her words.He laughed low, his voice full of warmth. "How far are you from home? Did you drink anything? Can you drive?""I'm walking distance, and the streets are empty. I barely finished a cup.""Go on then, get home safe. I'll be waiting to hear from you."Laura's heart swelled at his words; the fear finally ebbed away. "Goodnight, Travs," she whispered before ending the call. She slipped the phone into her pocket and started walking toward her apartment, looking around at the quiet street. A strange strength powered her steps, a calm that hadn't been there for months.
She felt invincible.
Travis sat in his parked car down the street and watched her go, her form aglow from the street lights. A satisfied smile played on his lips as he clutched the steering wheel, his heart finally starting to slow as the adrenaline continued to drain from his system.In the instant that he heard her voice, he had known this was no ordinary circumstance. Thus, instinct took over, and he had jumped on his car, still in his pajamas, breaking every speed limit while on speaker phone with her.He had pieced together every scattered description Laura had given: the old fraternity house, the tall oak by the entrance, the narrow driveway she had spoken of so offhandedly. He had relied on those small details to navigate the dark, unfamiliar streets of the campus, peering at each building until he finally found the house she had described—light spilling from a floor window. That was how he'd found her that night, heart pounding with a single-minded focus.He'd been there, just in case; but deep inside, he knew she needed this victory on her own. He just wanted to make sure she was fine, but also to bear witness of a strength she sometimes doubted was there, but he knew she had it all along.When she vanished from sight, he exhaled a mixture of relief and pride. Then he started the car and quietly pulled away, leaving her to find her own way, knowing she was finally beginning to prepare herself to face the dark alone. And she was going to be alright. The next weekend seemed to arrive sooner than Travis had expected, and yet it did bring with it an amalgam of anticipation and unease. This had been a big week; following on from his stop by the construction site at Hackett's Quarry lodge, he'd finally gone back to his family house.The looming house in front of him felt foreign, almost as if it were watching him—its every inch as well known as the back of his hand. He opened the door and immediately felt himself enveloped in scents of aged wood and memories seeping deep into his lungs. Comforting and yet unsettling, it creaked beneath his feet—the old floors stirring memories he'd rather bury under a weight of fear, guilt and regret. Taking a deep breath, he willed himself to step inside and barely made a few steps before he felt the all-too-familiar prickling under his skin, reminders of too many sins too deep to sweep away.He didn't head towards the dining room but instead turned upstairs to fetch a few things Bobby had asked for in his last phone call. Every step groaned on the ancient stairs, increasing his apprehension. At the landing, he entered the room that once used to be Bobby's; faint scent of oil and machinery still lingered in the air. He didn't waste much time or allow himself to linger, but drew out a few framed photos, mementos, and other pieces of memorabilia that Bobby had asked him for. The box he filled was small, but heavy with meaning.He made his way back downstairs, stopping as he caught something out of the corner of his eye: a figure standing in the doorway of the room on his left. His breath caught as he turned, half-expecting to see some sort of intruder—maybe one of those paranormal enthusiasts who'd occasionally tried to break in since the news broke. But there was nothing, just the silent shadow of memories. He exhaled, the weight from the house leaning on him until he felt the need to get out, knowing he needed to give himself time before returning for real. He would need to let the place breathe a little longer, for his own sanity.Travis had spent the next couple of days of that week entangled in the bittersweet task of going through Chris's will and belongings. It was a painstakingly slow process, not just because of the paperwork, but every item, every note, every keepsake stirred the echoes of his brother's voice, his laugh, the tension they never quite resolved. And the painful loss of his nephews. The harder part was setting aside the personal things: a pair of boots Chris had always worn, the battered leather journal he carried during camp summers, a photo of Chris and his kids fishing by the lake. It was exhausting, physically and emotionally, yet Travis pressed on.What he didn't do, not yet, was visit the graves. He wasn't ready for that, the ache in his chest constricting at just the thought. He'd stand at those headstones soon enough, but not yet. Grief still felt too fresh, like an open wound he didn't know how to begin stitching. For now, it was easier to keep busy, filing away his brother's life piece by piece, as if that would somehow make the weight of it lighter.By Friday, he had retreated to his own home, trying something easier. He sorted through some old photo albums, looking for more pictures to send to Bobby. Memories had always been a solace to his brother, and Travis felt this was one way of keeping the connection alive.The day felt thick with solitude, the kind that wrapped around him as he flipped through snapshots of summers past, the camp in the background of too many to count. He dwelled on some photos—a rare group picture of the family with Chris in the middle; one of Kaylee, arms crossed and grinning as she teased Caleb by the lodge steps. The nostalgia swirled heavy in the quiet house, leaving him steeped in both longing and regret.He sat at his kitchen table, lost in thought as the sun slanted lower in the sky, the house settling into shadows. His focus was so far inward that it took a few moments for the vibration of his phone to register. He frowned and rose from his chair, walking toward his jacket draped over the back of the door.Fishing the phone from his pocket, Travis figured it must be Laura. Her Friday classes should've finished by now, and she probably wanted to discuss weekend plans. Maybe, if he was lucky, she'd suggest coming back to North Kill.The notification lit up his screen, and the message brought with it emotions he hadn't anticipated.
‘Hey, just an FYI, this weekend I'm planning on going on some kind of adventure with my bestie. Not sure if I'm going to have phone service. Do you have any big plans?’
"Bestie?" he whispered, and was surprised by a pang of disappointment, immediately followed by a small wave of happiness. That she had someone was good. She was out there, making plans, forging connections. And in spite of having people in her life she still reached out to him.He typed back, quickly. ‘Negative. Have fun.’ She already knew his short sharp answers and didn’t take too much offense anymore. But that hasn't been always like that. “Jesus Christ, Travs, if you say just ‘No’ put an emoji or so, so I know you’re actually not mad at me,” she had said once after one of his messages was misinterpreted at the beginning of their text conversations. A moment after he sent his message, she replied.
‘I will :) xoxo'
The message was as simple as it could get, yet he could feel the cheerfulness in her.Yet, with him standing there with his phone in his hands, that ache of his void managed to seep inside of him and stayed there, though he tried to push it away. Shrugging it off, he placed the phone once more on the table and went back to the albums, but this feeling remained—a strange tightness in his chest. The weekend lay before him, both too brief and far too long, and he could do little to break the silence. Travis had clung to the faint hope that Laura might come this weekend, her sharp wit or warm words puncturing through his heavy thoughts, giving him a tether to something brighter. And yet, he told himself he couldn't expect her to drop everything to come running—not after the life she'd fought so hard to reclaim.Much as he longed to see her, he could not ask her to give up her weekend when she had other plans, which was not fair to ask, particularly not after all the hard work he did in persuading her to live out of the shadow that their mutual past casted upon them. She needed space and her freedom—and he mustn't forget it.As Saturday morning unfolded, Travis never thought he'd find himself on his couch sipping coffee and channel-surfing. It was a light, quiet day—the type he hadn't had in a while—and he'd curled up with little motivation other than to watch the news. He heard a firm knock at the door, frowned, and set down the mug as he rose to his feet. He hadn't been expecting anyone today. He opened the door to find Laura standing there, a sheepish but radiant grin on her face; she was all dressed in layers of soft pink and blues, wore a hiking jacket and sturdy runners, and had a baseball cap tugged down low. But what immediately caught his eye was the sizable hiking backpack slung on her back, replete with hydration hose snaking over her shoulder. “Laura?" he blinked, trying to keep the astonishment off his voice."Ready for the hike?" she beamed, skirting him and walking right past him into the house like she owned it.Shoes and all!"What?" he asked, still rooted at the doorway as he watched her waltz into the living room."The hike, silly!" She spun around, hands on her hips as if he were the one who'd forgotten something important. "You said you were going to show me your favorite sunrise. You don't think I forgot, do you?"His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you told me you were going on an adventure with your best friend."She rolled her eyes, looking almost insulted. "You, Travis. You are my best friend. Do I have to spell it out?"He couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he processed it. A wave of warmth swirled through him, and for one split second, he had this dysfunctional urge to pull her into a hug—or even kiss her. But instead, he stood there like a deer in the headlights, his mouth opening and closing in his effort to say something.After a beat, he shook his head in order to pull himself together. "Alright, alright. Let me check your gear," he said with mock gravity in his voice as he closed the door and moved toward the hall closet where he kept his own camping supplies.“Check my gear?" Laura snorted, crossing her arms as she gave him a withering look. "What am I, some kind of amateur? Not my first rodeo, dude.""Ma'am, I'm going to need you to unpack your belongings for inspection," he said, setting down his own worn and toughly-made backpack onto the floor beside her. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out various essentials: an extra flashlight, a survival kit, and a small cooking pot, toiletries for him, a change of clothes and sleep equipment."Oh, now you are a park ranger?" she asked over her shoulder, her eyes rolling wryly. He chuckled and promptly ignored the comment as he began his 'inspection' of her pack. It was well used, and he was glad to find she'd come prepared: a decent sleeping mat, a sturdy sleeping bag, a small camping pillow, kitchen items, a first-aid kit, toiletries, and a neatly rolled tent.Good, he thought, taking her tent in a little closer to test the weight with an experienced hand.“Why is your tent so big?" he asked, raising a skeptical brow as he weighed it. "This is a two-person tent, Laura. It'll weigh you down the whole hike."She shrugged; her grin mischievous. "Well, it's cozy. Also practical, and sharing is caring." Travis narrowed his eyes at her. "You know, for someone who claims she likes her independence, you sure have a funny habit of forcing us to share sleeping arrangements."Laura's grin widened, unabashed. "Oh, come on, Sheriff, don't act like you didn't enjoy it. The last time we shared a bed, you stole all the covers.""Yeah, because I had to fortify myself against your icicle feet and wandering hands," he shot back, crossing his arms with mock indignation. "Pretty sure that counts as cruel and unusual punishment."She let out a gasp of pretend affront. "Excuse me, my feet are perfectly normal!"Travis gave her a long, knowing look. "Laura, I was half-convinced you were trying to reenact the Ice Age. No wonder you bring a two-person tent. It's not about coziness; it's about survival."Laura snorted, lightly shoving his arm. "Alright, fine, consider it my self-preservation strategy. You're lucky I didn't pack an electric blanket this time."Travis shot her a warning look, but she ignored it with an innocent look.He let out a sigh and pulled the tent from her bag, suddenly strapping it on his own pack despite her protesting. If they were going to be sharing a tent, he was going to be the one carrying the weight. "What about food? What did you bring?""Marshmallows," she replied with a smug grin, raising a bag as if in some sort of Olympic medal ceremony.He groaned, rolling his eyes. "I mean real food. We can't survive on marshmallows, kid.”She giggled. "I brought some dry meals. But I thought we were doing this classic camp style?""We are," he said, even now making mental plans. "But if we're doing it right, I'll get a couple of steaks and some veggies. Better for protein and, well, taste. Dry packages are better for multi-day hikes, if it’s just overnight we can bring fresh food." Within minutes, they were packed and loaded in his truck, heading into town.They pulled over at a small grocery store and stocked up on supplies: two ribeye steaks and a few cans of baked beans.Once they were all set, he went to the start of the trail. Early morning sunlight slanted through the trees, casting golden shadows on the ground, with a cool mist hanging in the air, promising it would be a perfect hiking day. As they stepped out the car, Travis moved behind her, adjusting her pack on her shoulders before swinging his onto his back. "Ready?" he asked, double-checking the straps. "Ready as I'll ever be," she said, excitement glimmering in her eyes.They struck off at a brisk pace with the mist only then beginning to break as they made their way through dense woods. The sun beat down between the trees, mottling the path with flecks of gold and shadow. Gravel crunched beneath their feet as their voices filled the silence of the woods.The light cadence they had adopted saw them through the first few hours.Laura would pause every now and then, hunching down beside the trail to examine mushrooms or strange plants, taking pictures and oohhing and ahhing over every find.Travis couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm. She had an instinct for catching what might otherwise pass him by—a tiny nest of moss, a gall of bright red berries, a minute trail of ants weaving its path across the trail. "Look, Travs, they are carrying half a beetle!""You're one of those people who takes pictures of everything, aren't you?" he joked, shaking his head as she hunched to take a shot of dew droplets that clung to the curves of a fallen leaf. “Guilty as charged," she said, grinning up at him. "Don't judge, old man. Someone's got to document our adventures."He snorted, nudging her with his shoulder. "Just don't trip over your own feet while you're at it.”“Hey, did I tell you about that ball of moss pet I had a couple of years ago?”“Dimitri,” he deadpanned. Dimitri has been part of dozens of conversations when they were… at Hackett’s Quarry. He couldn’t yet understand how a rock with grass could be part of so many crazy scenarios. The trail began its upward curve, steeper through the trees now. They stopped every now and then to catch their breath, drinking out of their water bottles and leaning against boulders or tree trunks. Laura seemed tireless, her laughter carrying up through the trees as she nudged Travis with questions about his favorite camping spots, the best views, and the times he'd gotten hopelessly lost in the woods.Early in the afternoon, they reached a small clearing, and Travis drew them into a stop so they could rest. They let their backpacks drop onto the floor of the forest, plopping down onto a fallen log as they pulled out snacks and began munching for energy.Laura took a sip of her water and then looked around. "This place is amazing. How did you even find this trail?"He shrugged, a small smile touching his lips. "I’ve lived here all my life. My brothers and I visited every single trail in the area. Some of them are even made by my family."They ate and talked as the conversation flowed from light to more serious matters.She shared some of her college antics and filled Travis's face with a flush of laughter. In turn, he gifted her with stories of his days in the military, his siblings' quirks, and a host of campers he'd helped over the years.She listened intently, her eyes glinting with interest as he talked, sometimes making him laugh with pointed questions and cheeky comments. They packed up once they had rested and continued the hike. The trail began to narrow, the trees denser, their trunks thick with moss and gnarled roots twisting across the ground. The sunlight started turning softer, higher up, casting a warm golden light through treetops that thinned. The air grew cooler, the birds' sounds quieter, as they pressed further upwards until, finally, they attained the summit. Laura let out a low whistle, and her gaze swept over the view opened out before them: rolling hills, carpeted in treetops, stretched to the horizon, the green canopy punctuated by bursts of autumn color. A brilliant, cloudless blue, the sky arched overhead; a gentle breeze stirred, carrying the fresh scent of pine and earth.They found a small flat spot near the edge of the overlook. Travis pulled out Laura's two-person tent—the one she'd insisted on bringing—and together they unfolded it on a flat patch of ground nearby. She laughed as they fumbled with the poles, jostling each other playfully as they managed to raise it against the deepening twilight.When the tent was finally up, they turned their attention to building a small fire just a few feet away, gathering dry twigs and kindling.Travis struck a match, and soon the fire flickered to life, casting warm, dancing shadows around their campsite.Then he set up the small camp stove and started working his way through the preparation of their dinner. As he worked, Laura wandered nearby, snapping yet more pictures in awe at the view. Sometimes she'd turn and ask him about something she saw out there: a distant peak, the way the trees spread out in their setting, the colors changing with the sun. When, finally, the steaks were done, they sat together, plates balanced on their laps. The food was simple, but somehow, up there, it tasted better than anything Laura could remember. They ate in comfortable silence, save for the soft rustle of the breeze, the distant call of a bird. As they finished, the sun plunged deeper into the horizon, stretching shadows across the mountaintop. The temperature dropped immediately; Laura pulled her jacket closer and shivered. Travis shifted a little nearer, putting an arm about her shoulders, offering his warmth. She leaned up against him, her head against his shoulder, and together they watched as the sun dipped below the horizon casting an orange, pink glow over the sky.Laura turned around and grabbed the bag of marshmallows and a long stick with an impish grin."Okay, grill master, show me how to get the perfect golden marshmallow without burning it to a crisp," she challenged, waggling the stick at him.Travis chuckled, taking the stick from her hands and holding it expertly over the flames. "The secret," he said, turning it with care, "is patience. You can't rush it."The darkness outside did little to dampen the warm, flickering glow of firelight as it danced across them, revealing a sadness in Travis's eyes and a determination in Laura's. She watched as Travis did what he did with every task in hand: turning a marshmallow over the flames with patience and attention—the quiet concentration somehow comforting.They sat around the campfire, marshmallows roasting in rotation on each of their sticks. Laura looked up from the firelight, her eyes warm but a little shy. "Hey, my family's having this huge Christmas party this year. We even have some relatives coming down from Canada." She glanced over at him with a hopeful smile. "We'd really love for you to join us."Travis's face softened, but he shook his head. "I'm afraid I won't be able to.”Her smile faltered, but the soft tone continued. "You don't have to be alone this Christmas. And you shouldn't feel guilty for—everything. My family would love to meet you. They all—"He took a slow, deep breath, placing his roasting stick down tenderly. "It's not that. I want to see Bobby. I want to spend Christmas with him." He looked into the fire and spoke lower. "I don't want him spending his first Christmas in that place alone, thinking I've forgotten him.”A look of realization flickered in Laura's features. "Oh, I hadn't thought about that… That's really kind of you. I think it's exactly what he needs." She nudged him with a soft smile. "Tell Big B I said hi?"Travis nodded, his expression softening. "I will.”The silence between them was comfortable, the toasting of their marshmallows going slowly to fill the cool night air with warmth from the fire. Laura sat lost in thought, holding her marshmallow stick near her mouth, where the charred edges were still aglow weakly from the fire. She started to take a bite, and just then, Travis reached over, his hand gentle yet firm as he took hold of the stick.“Easy there," he said, drawing it back to his lips to blow softly on the marshmallow; faint smoke curled in the firelight as he cooled it for her. He passed it again, smirking; his eyes met hers, his gaze like warm honey that stopped her heart.Laura smiled sheepishly, her cheeks flushed, and carefully took a bite of the marshmallow. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice hesitant yet laced with warmth. She turned to Travis, her nerves fluttering as she garnered the strength to ask the question that had been bothering her since she'd planned this trip. "Travis," she whispered softly, her voice no louder than the crackling fire.He looked up from his own marshmallow, his brown eyes meeting hers with quiet curiosity."I need to talk to you about something—but I don't want you to freak out."He stilled, the marshmallow he'd been toying with forgotten as he set it aside and turned to face her. The way the firelight illuminated his furrowed brow and shadowed the lines of his face made him look older, wearier, yet still so unmistakably Travis."Alright," he said cautiously, his voice low, steady, but tinged with unease. "What is it?"Laura hesitated, her fingers nervously curling into the hem of her jacket. But this time, she didn't look away; she met his gaze head-on. "Why won't you let us be... more?"His response was instantaneous—his face tightened, and his eyes dropped; the shadows from the fire carved stark lines across his features. He didn't answer at first, instead turning his gaze back toward the fire where the light flickered between them."Laura," he started, but even his voice carried in it the weight of a man fighting an internal war.“Don’t,” she cut him off softly, leaning forward and reaching for his hand. Her fingers brushed his hesitantly before curling around them, grounding him. “Please don’t give me that. I’m serious, Travis. My feelings haven’t changed.”Her voice quieted, though the strength of the emotion in those words filled up the silence between them, echoing loudly: "I loved you when we were stuck in that cell. I loved you when we were inside that hospital. And now—up here, on this place which feels freer than everything has felt in years—I still do love you."He turned toward her with an abrupt jerk, the flash of longing and guilt suddenly raw in his expression, as though her words had struck a nerve he wasn't prepared to deal with.Her lips parted to speak again, and this time, the words dropped almost to a whisper. "Did your feelings change?"The look he gave her then—the flicker of anguish in his dark, solemn eyes—brought her heart to her throat. When he finally shook his head, it was small, jerking, as if it pained him even to admit it. "No, Laura. They haven't."Her breath caught, her chest shrinking as the longing in his voice met the conflict in his expression. "Then why?" she asked, leaning closer now, pressing. "If that's true—why do you keep pushing me away?"He shut his eyes briefly, a fleeting action that seemed meant to prepare him for impact. When he opened them again, the depth of his sorrow was almost more than she could bear.He blew out a slow breath and ran a hand down his face, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what he was about to say. "Because, Laura… I’m too old for you. I—" His voice faltered for a second, laced with rawness from emotions he rarely ever surfaced. "Because I can't shake the feeling that I took advantage of you. That I… groomed you. And no matter how much you believe you know what you want, that's what people will think, too."Her jaw tightened, and she opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand, stopping her."Let me finish," he said gently, though the strain in his voice betrayed how difficult this was for him. "It's not just about what other people will say. I wish it were that simple, but it's not." He dropped his gaze to their joined hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a grounding gesture. "It’s also my own fear of why you would feel like this. It’s—It's like…an injured bird, taken into the vet. While it's hurt, it feels safe. Cared for. Protected. It looks at the vet like…like its savior. But when it's healed—when it can fly again—it doesn't stay. That's the whole point. It flies away."His eyes met hers, and she could see the sorrow in them, so deeply etched that it really hurt her to look at him. "You're that bird, Laura. And I'm afraid… I'm afraid what you feel for me isn't real. That it's just the aftermath of everything that happened. I took care of you, I kept you safe, and maybe, somewhere inside you, you think that means you need me to survive. That scares me more than you can imagine. Because one day, when you're really healed, when the trauma isn't weighing you down anymore… you might wake up and realize you don't need me at all. That what you are feeling is just a reflection of what you have gone through."His voice broke slightly as he looked down again, his fingers curling tighter around hers. "And I'm scared you'll resent me. That you'll look back and think I caged you. That I held you back, made you believe you couldn't live without me. And that… that I took advantage of you." He let out a hollow laugh that held no humour. "Maybe I already did, without realizing it."Laura stared at him, her chest tightening as his words sank in. She knew how deep his self-doubt ran, how much his guilt and sense of responsibility for her survival weighed upon him. But this—this fear of his broke her heart. She reached for his hand, cradling it between both of hers, a fierce determination in her eyes."But what about the birds that return to their savior even after they’re free?" she asked softly, her voice trembling with vulnerability but resolute. "What about the ones that choose to stay?"He looked at her, his expression one of quiet anguish, his head shaking slowly. "You’re not free yet, Laura. Not really. You’re still in that cage." His voice dropped lower, pained. "You still need me. And that terrifies me. Because there's no way a smart, beautiful woman like you would want some washed-up old man unless you were still caught in all this…" He waved his free hand vaguely, capturing in the gesture the unspoken weight of their shared history. "—this trauma."Her brows knit together, frustration and hurt bleeding into her voice. "Is that what you really think of me?" she asked sharply. "That I'm too messed up to know what I want?""Laura," he said, the tendons straining in his throat, desperate. "I'm trying to protect you, from me, god, even from yourself. The whole point of your survival in that cell—it was all built around pretending we were… intimate. That intimacy, real or not, was what kept you alive. What if—what if, somewhere deep inside, your brain still thinks you need that? Need me to—" Travis swallowed the implications; he couldn't say it out loud. How he had to touch her, to impregnate her, for her to live, “—to survive? It's terrifying."Her breath caught, and her throat burned. His honesty cut her, but it also revealed the depth of his own pain. "Travis…" she began, her voice thick, but he didn't let her finish.He raked a hand through his hair, his shoulders slumping even further. "There are days," he said quietly, his voice soft, as though he were confessing a sin. "Days when I see how strong you are—how you're healing, how you're moving forward—and I think, 'Maybe this is real. Maybe this will last.'" He swallowed hard. "But then there are days when you call me, panicking, or when I see you flinch at something that reminds you of everything we went through. It scares me. I don't want to be the person who keeps you tethered to the worst parts of your past. You deserve so much more than that." His voice finally broke, a raw edge of emotion cutting through. "Laura, I'll always be here if you need me. Always. But what if all this—" He gestured again, helplessly. "What if it's not love? What if it's just… surviving?"The ache in her heart seared as she took him in, the man beneath the guilts and the fears, the man who'd given everything to save her and couldn't now believe he deserved to be loved in return.She reached up and touched his cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her fingers were steady, her eyes fierce. "I’m not a bird in a cage, Travis," she said firmly. "And I'm not here because I need you to protect me. I'm here because I love you. Because I choose you. And I'll keep choosing you until you get it through that stubborn skull of yours." Her voice softened, though her determination didn't falter. "But if you need time to believe that… I'll give it to you. I'm not going anywhere."His eyes searched hers, a flicker of something—hope, perhaps—breaking through the storm of his emotions."But what if you're wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now, barely above a whisper, as if even he was afraid to ask. "What if it is the trauma talking? What if I can't…" He broke off, exhaling hard through his nose. "What if I'm the thing keeping you from truly healing?"Laura watched him as he drew deeper into himself, the weight of his guilt and fear and inadequacy making his body slump even further. She couldn't stand seeing him this way—not after all they'd been through, not after all he'd done to prove himself worthy, if only to the world around him, but never to himself.“You're not," she said, her voice firm but not unkind. She squeezed his hand tightly, forcing him to look at her. "But you need proof, don't you? Something tangible. Something you can hold onto that tells you it's real. I get it, Travis. I really do. So let me give that to you."“What are you talking about?" he asked, his brow furrowed deeply in confusion, his fingers caught between hers like he was unsure whether to pull away or hold on tighter.Her lips pressed together in quiet resolve, her expression softening but still full of that fire he'd come to depend on when he felt like the world was slipping out from under him. "A year," she added in quiet resolve, tone steady, yet not without affection. "I'll give you a year to figure it out. Let me show you that I don't need you but that I still want you. Let me prove to you that this isn't about leaning on you. It's about choosing you.”He turned to her in surprise."Laura…," he began, his voice thick with doubt, but she cut him off."One year," she said, her eyes ablaze with a determined fire. "I'll keep working on my studies, making friends, sorting my life out, and healing whatever it is you think I need to heal. Then we meet back here. And if we still feel the same—and I know I will—then we give this a real go. No excuses. No fear. Just us." She leaned in a little, stopping. "And if, by the end of it, you're still scared… if you still think I don't mean this…" Her smile turned crooked, and her fingers brushed against his jaw with the same tenderness she'd shown him since the day their walls started crumbling. "Then I'll just have to spend the rest of my life proving you wrong."For a moment, he couldn't answer, his throat too tight with emotions he wasn't altogether certain he knew how to express. His feelings fought a silent battle in his chest—doubt tussling with hope, guilt wrestling longing. “A year," he repeated, his tone distant, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the enormity of what she was saying. "That's all?"Laura gave a soft laugh, though it was tinged with emotion. "You say that like a year isn't a long time, Travis.""It is," he said, almost to himself, his voice barely above a murmur.She leaned in closer still, her fingers threading through his, her grip firm as though anchoring them both. "It's long enough to me for me to prove how much I mean this—to start seeing yourself the way that I do." Her voice softened, almost breaking with a whispered, "And I hope it'll be long enough for you to believe me when I say I choose you. That I've always chosen you."The look in her eyes was enough to break whatever defenses he had left. He nodded, slow and silent, the weight of her words settling over him like a fragile comfort.He nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered, barely audible, an oath he wasn't even sure he had a right to take. "A year."But as the words left his mouth, a new shadow clouded his face. "What if…" His voice broke, and he paused for a moment. "What if this is like last time? When I pushed you away. What if you feel lost, or alone, or—""It's not the same," she said firmly, her words cutting him off. Her voice gentled as she slid her hand into his, her palm warm against his rougher skin. "Last time, you just vanished, Travis. You didn't say a word. I didn't know if you were dead or alive, or if I'd ever see you again. I didn't even have a way to reach you." She squeezed his hand. "But this… this is different. This isn't to run away. It's for us. For me to heal and for you to believe. It's to make sure that when we're together, it's real."Her words fell on him like a fragile blanket of comfort, and for the first time in years, Travis felt a faint easing of the weight that had settled in his chest since that red cage.Laura leaned, her head cocked, capturing his glance. "And do not ever mind what people will say, either," she furthered firmly, an undertone lacing her words. "I don't care. People can think their own damn thoughts. I have done too much and for so long taken their opinions. All I'm interested in is us. And since I have, it needs to be reiterated—I choose you."Travis blinked rapidly, her declaration striking him harder than he expected. He couldn't find the words to tell her how much she'd unraveled his defenses, how her steady resolve was chipping away at walls he'd spent decades building. She'd crawled into the broken spaces he thought he'd never show anyone and somehow fit herself there, snug and unshakable."Starting tomorrow," he whispered finally, the edge of his thumb brushing against her knuckles in a gesture of quiet reverence."Starting tomorrow," she repeated, her tone firm but soft, as if to seal the promise between them.For a fleeting, silent moment, his vulnerability was a mirror to hers. There was no distance between their gazes, no more barriers or what-ifs. For the first time in longer than either of them could remember, there was only the faint glimmer of peace breaking through the cracks in their fear.And so they sat together, the future hanging uncertain before them, but for now, it was enough. Their hands clasped tightly, their hearts beaten raw but full, they let the fragile comfort of each other's presence carry them into whatever came next.He wanted her to have this time—this chance to grow beyond all that had bound her. But a part of him, the part of him still wholly human, silently hoped she would still love him after a year. That there was a future in which they might meet again, under other stars, with unencumbered hearts. In the firelight, Laura's face was soft, her smile bittersweet. She closed the small gap between them, her arms going around him, pulling him tight in a fierce hug. "I'll miss you, Travis," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice shaking just a bit. Travis hugged her close, inhaled as though to commit every scent to memory. "I'll miss you more than life," he replied, his voice thick with the weight of it. They stayed like that, locked in each other's arms until the fire turned into ambers. Finally, when the chill of the night became too much to ignore, they retreated into the tent they were going to share. Neither was willing to get out of the other's warmth in the cold, so they shared glances while unspoken thoughts passed between them in the dark, lying beside each other in their sleeping bags and hands instinctively finding each other's.They silently made silent wishes— prayer for the eventual return in a year under this blanketed canopy of stars, a heart free of pain and fear that still clung within them—together and free. Morning came far too early. Travis woke Laura up with the first hints of dawn stretching out across the sky. The chill in the air sent her into shivers while she changed her clothes, and when she emerged from the tent, she found Travis already brewing coffee over a new small fire. She was still half-asleep, but he gestured to a spot that overlooked the forest below. "Come on," he said—his voice a little softer than usual, tinted with the reverence he felt toward the place. She sat down next to him, drawing the collar of her jacket up against the morning cold. The sky was still dark, save that there was a semblance of orange and pink just starting to brush the horizon.They sat in silence, watching as the sun slowly climbed over the treetops, bathing Hackett's Quarry far below them in soft, early light. The forest stretched out endlessly before them—an ocean of green and gold that seemed to pulse with life as the morning grew brighter. "It's beautiful," Laura breathed, the cold air visible with every word. She drank in the details: the edges of the forest, the far-off lake, her heart lighter than she'd anticipated. "Thank you for bringing me here." Travis nodded, his gaze pinned to the horizon. "I wanted you to see it—my favorite sunrise. It reminds me no matter how dark the night has been, there's always light again.”Laura drew her phone out and turned around. For a moment Travis thought she would take a picture of the rising sun. Instead, Laura leaned in toward him, motioning him to look back. Then she set her head on his shoulder and holding up the camera, she took a quick selfie shot of them both against the morning dawn.“I'll send it to you when I get reception," she whispered, her voice soft, yet laden with the weight of everything she felt inside. It was their first picture together—something she knew she would treasure long after this moment passed. She could see herself taking a thousand more if she had the chance, and it brought a pang to her heart.They packed up slowly, each move holding a seriousness neither commented on. As they started down the mountain trail, their hands kept reaching for and holding onto each other longer than they needed to. If anyone had crossed their path, they would have thought of them as just two people in love, caught in a tender moment out in nature.When they made it back to the carpark, Travis drove them back to his place, where Laura had left her car. She threw the backpack into the trunk and closed the lid, feeling the finality wash over her. Travis stepped inside, grabbing a couple of her belongings that he had carried on their way back. Then stepped outside, preparing for the longest farewell yet.He gave her her belongings, helping her pack them in her car. Then, he handed her a faded green notebook with frayed edges; in childish writing across the cover was 'Travis Hackett'. Laura looked at it, surprise flickering in her eyes."How do you have this?" she asked, her fingers brushing the rough cover as he handed it to her. The first time she saw it was under a red light; Travis’ old childhood diary. She recognized the signature, the cover—there was no doubt in her mind. "The FBI took almost everything for the investigation, but they gave this back to me," he said, his voice breaking. "I want you to have it— in case you feel lonely, or miss me, or— so you don't forget about me."Laura stared at him, wordless for a moment. It was more than just a notebook; it was a part of his life, his childhood—a part of him that he was sharing with her. She swallowed, clutching it tightly to her chest. "I could never forget you, Travis.”He nodded then, his eyes almost burning with intensity as he leaned forward to brush a strand of hair from her face. "Just… promise me you won't force yourself to be alone. If ever you need me, I'll be here. You don't have to bear all this alone, even if you're…”Laura's lips compressed into a faint smile, though there was sadness there. "I know. But this is for the greater good. For both of us. I'll be strong."He held her hand, firm and steady. "The strongest.”They stood there for a long moment, the weight of everything unsaid between them. Then, with one final burst of courage, Laura leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his lips, her touch lingering, warm against the morning cold. She pulled back, her eyes bright but filled with resolve.She said nothing else but got in her car and cast one last glance at Travis before she pulled away. Travis remained still; his heart heavy as he watched her disappear down the road. Turning to head back inside, Travis felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out to find a new message—Laura had sent him that photo from that morning; below it was a simple caption:
‘One year.’
He stared at the picture, his heart puffing up with a hope both bitter and sweet. One year.He could wait. He could wait the rest of his life for her if she needed him to.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Travis sat in the suffocating quiet of his house and stared continuously at the photo of him and Laura on his phone. The hours bled into one another as the relentless mornings stretched on and on, each heavier than the last.When Laura suggested they take a year apart to reconsider their feelings, he wasn't sure what he'd expected. Maybe a few messages here and there—something to remind him she was still there, somewhere, thinking of him too. But the overwhelming silence that began that very day cut into him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting.She wasn't there to flood his day with her texts anymore: no playful sarcasm, no quick ‘Good morning’ to lighten the start of the day. The quiet was deafening, pressing against him until it felt like a heavy weight on his chest.He checked his phone compulsively, his thumb hovering over the screen as if her name might suddenly appear. A simple 'Hi', a proof that she hadn't completely vanished from his world—that she hadn't slipped away. But days turned into weeks, and his notifications remained stubbornly blank.The ache was more than he'd anticipated—a hollowness, an absence that stamped each hour. He missed her like air—every moment without her suffocating in its own different way. Yet as much as this hurt, knowing full well she felt this same ache, or worse, feeling more alone than he, twisted the knife deeper.He tried to kid himself it was for the best, that this was what they needed, that this time it was her own decision and not him forcing the distance. But the hollowness persisted, and the photo stared back at him—a ghost of what they had been and what he wasn't sure they could ever be again.To distract himself, he turned his mind to getting their picture printed. He knew he had no hope of doing it in town without someone recognizing them, so he went to the route of ordering online, fighting his way through the clunky website and paying what felt like twice the price for shipping. It felt curiously monumental to be holding the confirmation screen in his hands, as if he was preserving something precious, a fragment of their time together.While he waited for it to arrive, he'd wandered into a small shop in town and found a frame: a ridiculous, overly cheerful wooden one painted in bright blue. Little pine trees were added and painted along the edges, with puffy clouds dotting the corners and a blazing yellow sun tucked into the upper right-hand corner. It was the sort of frame that would hang in a child's room, one that a fond grandparent would give a kid after visiting summer camp.He almost walked right past it, but something stopped him. The tacky little frame, with its exaggerated whimsy and charm, brought Laura instantly to mind. It reminded him of the sunrise they had watched from atop the mountain where they made their promise. The silliness of it was something she'd tease him about to no end, but it also had that undeniable warmth, that youthful joy he knew would make her laugh. And that alone had made him pick it up, running his thumb over the pines before he made his way to the counter.
Days flew after that as he plunged into summer camp preparations: working with contractors and staff to have it all ready so for the coming season. And finally, the place was taking shape: each cabin came alive with repairs, sturdy beams, and this brought him quiet satisfaction to know that in a short time it would be filled with laughter and activity again. During meetings with lawyers and contractors, he tried not to let his mind wander, tried not to picture Laura among the counselors, or questions if the children would ask about the camp's strange past. And when his lawyer finally called to confirm the trial would begin in April, it came with a kind of weird finality. It was always there in his mind, an immediate shadow. Also, he could feel the weight of facing his family's sins so publicly, and frequently found himself speculating how Laura would feel that day—where she would be, what she would think when she heard the verdict. This time made public instead of closed doors. Her absence had cast long, heavy thoughts that clung to him like an uninvited companion. As Travis sat in the quiet of his home, with every creak of the floor and every ticking of the clock amplified in stillness, he stared at the photo on his phone. Even the warmth of that memory couldn't drown that suffocating whisper in his head—a voice no less relentless than the winter wind outside, ringing in his ears again and again. It told him he was indeed alone. All alone in his feelings. All alone in his desperation.The solitude had a voice that was relentless, curling through him like smoke. The crackling embers of this fire, burning from within, whispered doubts and fears he could not quite silence. He tried to divert his attention: photo albums, sorting old keepsakes, even reorganizing his kitchen cabinets. Yet, her absence felt like an ache he couldn't soothe.He wasn't sure if that voice whispered hurtful lies or unthinkable truths. By the time Christmas had come around, the ache had turned into an almost uncontrollable urge to leave town—to escape the echoes of her absence embedded in every corner of his home.It came as a sudden decision, almost on instinct. He booked a small hotel room in New York and drove down, telling himself the change in scenery might help clear his mind. The city was alive with holiday cheer, buzzing in chaos both alien and strangely soothing. There, amidst towering lights and bustling streets, he found brief reprieve as he went to visit Bobby.Even after everything that had gone on between them—what was said, what was done—Bobby had still embraced him with open arms, yanking him into a little stiff but very sincere bear hug. For the first time in weeks, Travis's chest loosened a fraction.Bobby was a grounding presence he hadn't realized he needed. Their conversations comfortably drifted from light topics, such as reminiscing about childhood, to shared memories of fishing trips and others that pressed against the unspoken truths hanging between them, like the trial, camp, and Laura.Bobby's laughter and bluntness a welcome reprieve from the loneliness Travis had so sharply felt in the weeks since she had left. And on one of those quiet nights, amidst all the soft holiday lights, he found the courage to text to Laura. ‘Merry Christmas’, he typed, staring at the screen until he could finally click "Send." But there was no response, just a weird heart shape icon appeared under his message, and he had no idea of how it happened nor how to remove it. Asking her made him uncomfortable, in some strange way.For the time being, Bobby's stories and shared nostalgia took him away from the deafening silence of his phone and reminded him of a time before all this weight, a time when family didn't have to be so complicated, so unsoiled by secrets.When he finally returned to North Kill after the holidays, the house was empty once more, the silence filling the space.It was then, amidst the stack of mail, that he found the package. The photo. A wave of heat and unexpected emotion washed through him as he held it, but his euphoria quickly turned cold when he saw the heavy, dark frame it had come in—a serious, somber look he couldn't bear. He had removed it almost immediately, replacing it with the frame he had chosen, the one with the pines and the sun, something that felt brighter, more hopeful, more her. He set it beside the bookshelf, carefully, where he'd see it first thing whenever he came home.In the blue frame, the photo seemed to glow; their smiles were frozen in time beneath the dawn sky. And each time he saw it, a tiny spark of hope flared to life in his chest. Every time his eyes glazed over her framed face; the voices went silent for a while. There was still a year to get through, and he'd use it building toward something worthy of her return. And maybe—just maybe—when that year was up, they'd stand on that mountain once more, together. But to get it all ready for that part of his future, he knew he would have to return to Hackett's Quarry; to his parents' house.The thought alone sat heavy in his chest, a boulder compressing the faint happiness he'd managed to build. Hackett's Quarry wasn't just a place to him—it was an open wound. Every creak of the floorboards, every trace of faded pine would drag him back into memories he has tried to outrun. Twisted halls, shadowed by his family's ghosts in every nook and cranny, the weigh of the lives that almost got lost within those walls—and it was all still there, waiting for him.It was something that needed to be done. As much as he dreaded stepping foot again in that house, Travis knew it was something which he could not avoid doing. The past couldn't stay in its box forever. If ever there would be any real future, anything resembling having a life other than just quiet desperation haunting him, it would need to be faced.That had meant going into the rooms in which the secrets had brooded, into that cellar in which monsters had been bound and set free; touching memories with his own hands, not running from them.He couldn't remember a time he'd been so bothered by the silence of the Hackett’s Quarry house, his family home.And so, the first time he came back, there was irritation, hot in his chest; he had seen how thin layers of dust were still covering the floors, only disturbed by faint footprints. Barefoot impressions trailed across the hardwood-proof that someone had trespassed the property while empty. The house had sat, unused and abandoned, for months. Evidently, that hadn't been enough to prevent thrill-seekers, paranormal 'enthusiasts', and anyone else looking onto the misfortune-laced folklore from breaking and entering inside. They'd creep through the sagging doors, peer through broken window frames, gawking at the ruins of his family's pain, feasting on stories they'd never earned the right to hear.It made his skin crawl.He found himself pacing the house, checking every nook and cranny for lingering intruders. Each step was an echo through the heavy quiet with its threatening hush; his heart quickened with every approaching room he hadn't ventured near since—well, since it all fell to pieces. Now it lay empty—eerily so.The trapdoor also remained shut, locked down tightly.The prints bothered him far more than he'd thought they would. He thought fleetingly of putting in an alarm system, if only to save this house—this ruin of a legacy—from becoming some kind of sideshow to people who didn't have a clue what had been lost here.It was little enough, but it belonged to his family, and even if it disgusted him, even if the memories within these walls tormented him, it at least deserved better than gawkers.Shaking his head, he made himself move on from it, back to the matter in hand.He began to pack boxes: his mother's dishes, collected with such care; his father's old work clothes; Chris's childhood trophies, still caked in dirt; the crayon-scrawled pictures his nephews had once made, now fading. The things his fingers touched brought him memories he'd long hidden deep inside; they now hit him like sharp, powerful waves of loss and love.He sat working quietly, the smothering silence only oppressive, trying to ignore it-the way it seemed to lean on him, as though even the house itself was in mourning.Like wading through a thick fog that settled heavy upon him, pulling at his energy. He started in the upstairs rooms, boxing away each small part of his family's history, each item a memory both treasured and tainted. Ghosts of times past haunted the house, memories that seemed to twist into shapes he barely recognized. Every nook, every groan of the floorboards held a reminder, and lately, those reminders were tinged with something darker, something which clung to him like cold mist. He tried to ignore the pull, the odd feeling which crept in as he moved through the rooms.But in the quiet of the house, a weird yearning fell upon him, buckling his breath, sending him blinking, as if he were waking from some dream. It was Laura, most of all, who filled his mind—a vision of her smile, her quick wit, and the rare softness she allowed him to see. The memories, though, carried weight here, tainted by the image of her trapped in that basement. His heart still felt ripped open by the echoes of those days. A month had gone by, but her absence throbbed like a phantom limb. Every time he looked at his phone to find a one-word response—or none at all—it ached like an old scar splitting open.Still, he soldiered on, sorting through his parents' belongings, hauling item after item from their house to his own. Whatever he could give away, he did, whether to neighbors or the community; he kept only what mattered.He separated his mother's jewels into boxes, knowing they no longer held a place in his life. Most of the items were fragile, intricate, and easily released, save one: the family ring. It had been worn by generations and was too precious to let go of. In a rare quiet moment, he found himself picturing it on Laura's hand—a thought that startled him. It seemed a betrayal of his promise to let her move on, to give her the freedom she so deserved. But he let the image sit, silently, behind closed doors of his mind. He was selfish like that.Yet, love has its selfish edges. Whether he saw her every day or never again, that ring, in his heart, already belonged to Laura Kearney.But even the thoughts of Laura couldn’t hold at bay the house’s grip for very long. The walls themselves seemed to breathe with memory, each creak of the wood and groan of the old foundation siphoning him dry. It wasn’t the kind of exhaustion that came from lack of sleep but a deeper, more insidious drain—the kind that left him raw, aching in a way that physical exertion never could.The voice that haunted his loneliness grew louder here, as though amplified by the walls and what they held. It wasn't a voice he could place, but it was insidious, a soft mermaid call laced with grief and something more malevolent. A haunting tune, pulling him toward the place he least wanted to go.The trap door.Each time he went by it the whisper grew louder, an itch beneath his skin that he couldn't scratch.
Go down. Look. She could still be there.
It pressed on his mind, threading into his pulse, creeping through fissures in a resolve he thought was solid.He froze every time he felt it, his breath catching as his gaze lingered over that familiar outline against the floorboards. It looked innocent enough, but its pull was anything but. There it lay, a trap even when closed, magnet-like, drawing all his broken edges towards it.And every time, he fought it, though not without effort. His boots remained planted firmly on the floor above, but his mind wandered down. His hand hovered hesitantly before his side, fingers trembling faintly with the war that raged beneath his surface.But still, he never lifted it. The weight of what was down there was heavier than anything he could ever face, even now.Still, no matter how resolute his resistance was, he looked back. He always looked back.An irrational fear gripped him: what if she was still there? What if time itself hadn't moved forward, and he'd imagined it all—the escape, the hospital, her leaving?When it got too much, he ran from the house, running outside into the sun with the vigour of a prisoner set free from his dark cell. The fresh air hit him like a slap across the face as his head pounded like being underwater for too long.At such times, he would get in his car and drive away, searching for people, noise—anything to hold him to the present. The house was an illusion; its walls were endless memories, grasping at his mind and urging him to that very past he so feverishly wished to forget.He knew rationally that Laura was far away, free, and living her life without him. And yet the longer he stayed, the more the house played tricks on him, and he wondered if he'd ever left that basement. He wanted to call Laura. The sound of her voice, even one word, would steady him.But every time he looked at the phone, he felt the weight of their unspoken promise, of the distance they were both struggling to keep. For if he was calling now, if he was letting himself lean on her again, he was scared he would break them all over again—things they wanted to build: chances for something real, something to last, if they were ever meant to stay. He'd swallow the need, push the phone back into his pocket, and glare at the walls of his family's old house with a heavy silence in his heart. When it got too much, when the memories pressed down so tight he felt he would crumble, he called Bobby. The one person still alive who understood that strange ache following them, the losses they'd endured together.Bobby listened to Travis's quiet and patient rambles about the house and the things he'd found in closets and drawers and the dusty corners where childhood memories hide. Bobby wanted him to move on, to be happy, and he'd said it in that forthright of his, as if it were a matter of merely taking one step after another. "Don't spend too much time there. It's… it's just a place," Bobby had said, his voice rough but with understanding. "I know. But it's all we got left now," Travis replied softly. He couldn't even consider walking away from it all, losing Bobby too, not after everyone they'd already lost. It was a constant reminder of his family, brothers that had sweat and bled, building a life one piece at a time. Travis knew very little about fixing cars, not like Bobby or Caleb, but he felt he owed it to the town to keep the yard open, the only in miles.After all, they had depended on it for years, and he couldn't allow it to get washed away just like everything else.He put the word out, looking for a young set of hands to keep the place running while Bobby was away. In no time, he had a small stack of CVs piled up on his desk—names and faces from the community who were willing to take up the work that meant so much to this town. And as he worked among them, a part of him flared back to life, the feeling he was piecing things together, that he was keeping something alive, for Bobby's sake, and maybe for his own, too. Because until his brother returned, until they could both stand on even ground again, he would keep it running.Only until he got his brother back, so he could return him his life—as he helped him get his back. Other things had loomed large on his list, but the one thing he'd avoided with a stubborn tenacity was visiting his brother and nephew’s graves. His last call to Bobby had finally stirred the resolve, an offhanded request that struck a chord. Bobby had asked—where was Chris buried? Was he closer to his kids?Travis hadn’t been there when they were lowered into the ground. The hospital had kept him away, his injuries still healing when arrangements had to be made. He’d managed it all remotely—calls, emails, coordinating through his lawyer. Practicalities kept him at arm's length from the raw grief of it all. He had ensured they were buried in the Hackett family cemetery, like generations before them.Lineage. The word soured in his mind. What a goddamned joke.Chris's stone had been placed near where his parents would one day rest. Tradition, the lawyer had explained. Hackett Tradition. A part of him had wanted to push back, to argue, but what little strength he'd had left had drained away then. Tradition had won, as it so often did. The thought that Chris was so far from his wife, his kids so far from their mother, felt wrong, like something had been severed and left to bleed. But Bobby’s question echoed in him.
Have you visited them already?
He knew bobby wanted to. He would have gone visit them at least once.And that’s what had brought him here now.He trembled as he stepped between the evenly spaced stones, his boots crunching in the dead grass. When he finally found it—the name carved into the granite—his breath caught, and for a moment, it felt like his legs would fail beneath him.
Christopher Hackett. Beloved son. Beloved father.
It didn't seem real.His little brother, Chris, was supposed to be burying him, not the other way around. There had been an unspoken rule: the first to go would be the older sibling—something they'd lived like it was gospel and never spoken of. And now, here he is, the one left standing, staring at the name chiseled into cold stone, marking so much of his life.Words formed and died in his throat, but when they finally escaped, they burned. His voice came out rough and low, almost unrecognizable. “Hey, C. I… don’t even know what I’m doing here.” The guilt gnawed at him, sharp and unrelenting.
How would Chris feel? If he could see me now? If he knew about Laura?
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Laura—her. The woman who had killed Kaylee. The woman he couldn’t help but love. He could barely reconcile it in himself, and here he was, standing over his brother's grave. How could he even face Chris now, let alone admit that truth?“I’m in love with her, Chris,” he whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t want to be. God, I didn’t… I didn’t ask for this.” His throat tightened, and he knelt, his knees hitting the ground with a dull thud.“I can’t help it. And the worst part? I’m not even sorry about it.” His voice cracked, the raw honesty of his words leaving him hollow. “I can’t apologize, because I’m not sorry. I just—” He choked on the rest, his head bowing as he exhaled shakily. “I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.”He stayed like that for what felt like hours, his knees pressed into the earth, his heart heavy with everything he couldn't say. He talked quietly to Chris, his words spilling out in a jumbled mix of grief and confession, until he noticed it. Out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved.He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, he turned his head toward the edge of the cemetery.There was nothing there.Panic set in, the soft hum of his mother's voice growing louder in his mind, crueler. More insistent. Asking the questions he dared not answer.
Why didn't you do more, Travis? Why didn't you save them?
"I—" he began and his voice cracked. He swallowed the words, shaking his head violently as if to clear it.But the voice—that was real. It came soft, barely a whisper, but familiar in a way that chilled him to the bone. The blood drained from his face, and he stood abruptly, his pulse pounding in his ears.“No,” he murmured, shaking his head, the sound of her voice growing louder in his mind, stirring a dark and restless unease that twisted through him. “Not here. Not now.” His feet carried him away, fast and unsteady. He didn’t look back—not at the grave, not at the shadow, not at the trapdoor pulling at his mind again, beckoning him back toward that suffocating darkness.When he reached his car, he climbed in, gripping the wheel with trembling hands. He couldn’t stay here. Not with those thoughts clawing at his edges. He’d faced his family’s ghosts for one day. That was enough. A phone call from his lawyer jolted Travis into the present, a grim reminder that the trial was fast approaching. It was February already, but his mind drifted elsewhere—Laura’s birthday. He vaguely remembered the date from her driver’s license and sent her a tentative text by the 20th. Her reply, “It’s the 23rd,” hit him harder than expected, stirring bittersweet memories of promises made. He made sure to add it to his calendar, though he doubted he would ever forget it again. Motivated, he pushed forward with plans for Hackett’s Quarry, putting out calls for new counselors and envisioning a safe haven for kids. But his lawyer kept him grounded. The trial preparation consumed him—endless paperwork, meetings, and reminders of the stakes.Sitting across from his lawyer in a quiet office, Travis absorbed every word: “This trial isn’t just about judgment; it’s about your future, the camp’s future.” Instructions were clear—be composed, factual, professional. The prosecution would try to discredit him through his family’s legacy, but Travis’s cooperation with the FBI was his strongest shield.When Travis asked about the camp, his lawyer emphasized its potential revival after the trial. As he left the meeting, the weight of loneliness bore down on him. He longed to share the moment with Laura, but their agreement to keep distance held firm. Still, he carried the hope that, in spirit, she was cheering him on. The path ahead was daunting, but Travis resolved to walk it—even if he had to do it alone.The mid-April trial was going to be a landmark event for Hackett's Quarry, and the courthouse was jammed with reporters, onlookers, and protesters. The charges against the Hacketts ranged from murder and manslaughter down to unlawful imprisonment. Caught between his family's crimes and his own cooperation with the FBI, Travis prepared to take the stand as witness, victim and defendant.Inside, the courtroom was tight with tension. Jedediah and Constance sat stone-faced, and Bobby looked defeated, his shoulders slumped with a somber expression. The parents of the dead counselors watched with faces contorted in anguish; their silent accusations weighed heavily upon Travis as he took his place beside his lawyer. Across the room, Laura entered with her attorney, composed yet reflective. Though their eyes met briefly, they were instructed to maintain their distance, increasing the ache of separation.The trial started with opening statements, where the prosecution gave a grim description of the Hackett family's dark legacy. Jedediah and Constance were indicted for orchestrating the ordeal, while Bobby's role as an accessory and Travis's complicated involvement were scrutinized. However, Travis's defense leaned heavily on his cooperation with law enforcement, highlighting his role in exposing his family's crimes, plus his own incarceration by his own parents.Laura's testimony proved to be a turning point. She recounted her imprisonment and the horrors she experienced at their hands but showed that Travis had protected her, did not hurt her, and helped her to get free. Going as far as to nearly die because of it. Her words held a depth that echoed in the minds of the jury, showing Travis still had an ounce of humanity left despite his family's legacy.The trial was dragged out over days of testimony about forensic evidence, the victims' injuries, and the extensive nature of the Hacketts' cover-ups. The defense for Jedediah and Constance tried to present them as desperate old parents suffering from mental health issues because of old age and their own urban legends, while Bobby's lawyer tried to argue his role as a pawn following orders. But overwhelming was the evidence against them, and the testimonies from grieving parents left an indelible mark on everyone present.The final day, the jury reached a verdict: Jedediah and Constance guilty on all counts, sentenced to life without parole. Bobby was given a sentence in a psychiatric institution. To Travis, it was a bittersweet verdict: his family was destroyed, but finally the truth had come to light. Finally they paid for their crimes and not Laura, nor anybody else, would have to live their lives looking over their shoulders.The courtroom emptied, Travis and Laura exchanging a brief but weighted nod—a silent promise to hang on, rebuild. But as Travis stepped back into his home, the reality finally landed upon him. Though the trial was over, the ache—a palpable sense of loss and guilt and a fractured family—was very much alive. It was an end and a beginning, one he wasn't quite ready to face.The verdict had brought a semblance of closure: his parents could no longer hurt anyone. But closure wasn't the same thing as peace. The scars of what they'd done—and what they had become—ran too deep. His lawyer had tried to put a positive spin on it, mentioning how the trial had unexpectedly cast Hackett's Quarry in a new light. With Laura Kearney's testimony, his innocence had been established and drew public interest in the camp; thus, it had become very popular all of a sudden. "It's an opportunity to rebuild," his lawyer had told him after the trial with affected optimism. But Travis couldn't quite see that way.When he stepped into his quiet home after the trial, the weight of it all hit him like a wave. Silence wrapped heavy, oppressive—the lack of familiar voices gnawed on him. He thought of Laura, the way she'd looked at him during the trial: cool, distant, like this bond they'd forged in the basement was little more than a memory. He knew why. It was all an act, a facade for the courtroom—that's what he fought to believe—but it didn't make it easier to bear. It reminded him too much of how they'd been when they first met—wary, mistrustful, and cold.His gaze fell on the framed photo of them in the living room. It was but a single moment in time, yet it spoke volumes above all other things in that house. Her smile in the photo seemed to reach across the expanse now between them, a tenuous promise of something not yet lost. For one fleeting second, the knot in his chest loosened, and he let himself hope.That weekend, he walked Hackett's Quarry summer camp, drinking in the changes and renovations. The camp was almost ready—cabins refurbished, trails cut, the swimming pool recently scrubbed clean. For the first time in years, it looked like the place Chris and he had envisioned as a kid. He opened the mailbox to find it stuffed with counselor applications, more than he'd seen in years. At first, he felt a flicker of excitement, but it quickly gave way to suspicion. He knew why people were interested—it wasn't the camp itself. The trial had turned Hackett's Quarry into an urban legend, a place where rumors of ghosts and horrors had taken root.He sorted through the envelopes, matching each name to the sincerity of their letter. His instincts said to weed out the thrill seekers, those that were more morbidly curious than those who loved guiding kids. He started two piles: those that had experience working with children, and those he'd never let near camp.And then he saw it.An envelope addressed in a handwriting he knew in an instant: Laura Kearney.Travis froze; his heartbeat quickened as he stared at her name. Her letter felt heavier than the rest, weighted by months of silence and unspoken words. He hadn't expected this, somehow, not after the way they drifted away, her distance like an abscess he knew had been slowly eating at his insides. The absence of her presence, the quiet void where her messages used to be, gnawed at him more than he'd admit. He had expected for her to not to show this year, to wait until after the year was due. But there she was, and he couldn't understand if this was a good or a bad sign. He opened the letter with shaking hands, his mind catching on a conversation they'd once had when the dream of the camp had seemed impossible. He'd joked that she'd make a great counselor—her fierceness, her wit, her strength, to keep the kids in line. But he'd never thought at the time she'd actually consider it. He'd assumed she'd wait, needing space from the Quarry and everything it represented. Now, holding her letter, he wasn't so sure. Was this really the right thing for her to do? All of the scars, all of the memories that came with Hackett's Quarry—wouldn't returning be a reopening of old wounds she had fought so hard to heal?A selfish part of him, the part that had counted every moment of her absence, screamed she belonged here. But deeper down, he asked himself if she saw this place for what he did—a chance for closure, a way to reclaim from the shadows.Still, doubts lingered. How would the other counselors react? What would the public think when word got out that she was back? Hackett's Quarry had become a spotlight he didn't want it shining any brighter.But none of it mattered. He held the letter close, her name etched into his mind. Whatever this meant—whatever challenges it brought—Laura belonged here as much as he did. June showed up way sooner than Travis had planned, and before he knew it, he was pacing the lodge office at Hackett's Quarry.He had personally screened each candidate for both the staff and counselor positions over the previous three months, questioning their history and motivations.In a case as famous as theirs, his first order of business was to make certain that everyone who came on board did so for the kids, for their protection, not to chase ghost stories or to satiate some other supernatural curiosity. Denis, his old partner in the force, had been a good assistant in this matter; he knew what Travis was looking for and helped screen out the 'paranormal tourists'. With this team finally set, he could focus on the two months of camp ahead. Travis had prepared well. He'd brought over most of his clothes, settling into Chris's old room. He'd even moved in a few favorite books, framed photos of family, and a scattering of personal memorabilia that gave him some comfort. And then, of course, there was the photo of Laura. He'd wanted to put it on his desk, but caution held him back—he could almost feel the curious eyes of staff and counselors who might wander into his office. Laura's picture was different. It was private, almost sacred, so it remained on his nightstand, where he could see it at the end of each day.Setup of the camp was a relentless whirlwind. Travis greeted the maintenance crew and the key staff, showing them around, sat with them to firm up the schedules, safety, and other activities of the summer.Two weeks later, the counselors arrived on a van from town, the anticipation leaving him pacing the lodge porch as he waited. As the vehicle’s doors opened and the counselors spilled out, talking and laughing, Travis scanned each face, searching for one in particular.And then he saw her.Laura stepped out last, looking freer than he'd seen her in what felt like a lifetime. A red bandana tied over her blonde hair gleamed bright against the summer sun. A color that, for a second, took him aback—sharp contrast to the memories they both carried.
Red.
It was bold, defiant—pure Laura. A statement that she'd survived, that she was more than her past. A pang shot through his chest, a rush of pride and longing all at once. When their eyes met, her lips curved into a smile, one which broadened as recognition flickered between them.For a moment, everything else receded: the other counselors, the camp, even the weight of the last year. It was just her, standing there, radiant, whole. He couldn't look away, and by the soft flicker in her eyes, neither could she.Emotions swirled across her face, more than likely mirroring his own. God, I’ve missed you, he thought. She looked stunning, absolutely breathtaking, the most beautiful living creature who had ever set foot in Hackett’s Quarry.The moment stretched too long, enough that the other counselors noticed. One followed Laura's gaze and spotted him, their wave breaking the spell. The others joined in, greeting him enthusiastically. Travis cleared his throat, managing a polite smile as he welcomed them all into Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp.The lodge buzzed with energy as the counselors settled in, voices and laughter filling the space. Travis joined them for a quick welcome, going over camp protocols and expectations. As he spoke, his eyes kept drifting toward Laura. She was standing with another counselor—a young woman with sharp features and an easy smile who Travis guessed was Nuria Thorne.Laura had written about her in her letter a few months back, describing her as a steadying presence and good friend she'd found after everything at Hackett's Quarry. She was the new friend that made at campus, she has talked so many times about her it was like Travis already knew her. He was hiring her not simply for Laura's sake, but Nuria's resume had impressed him: six younger siblings, two summers as a counselor in Florida spoke volumes to capability. A fine addition to his team.Still, he couldn't help but keep an eye on Laura herself. All day, he waited for her to pull him aside. The hours dragged like molasses as the anticipation gnawed at him. He pictured her coming to him with that quick, slick smile she always wore when she wanted to talk. He thought they'd catch up, maybe share a moment to ground themselves before camp began.But as the day wore on, the realization inched its way in, like a chill, that Laura was keeping her distance.She hadn't made any move to speak with him beyond a polite smile when they first arrived. It wasn't cold exactly, but it also wasn't the warmth he had expected. She treated him like any other staff member, exchanging casual pleasantries before seamlessly blending into the group.But with each passing moment, the ache in his chest grew. He had built up this reunion in his mind, believing that seeing her would feel like a balm, a step towards something he already knew. But her distance left him uneasy, the silence between them heavier than any of their past conversations.
Why won't she talk to me?
Travis set his disappointment aside and turned his attention to his day's duties. He introduced himself to the new staff, gave them a general orientation, explained safety protocols, showed counselors where they would be residing, and reminded them all to stay on the campgrounds. He had never said anything about specific places to avoid, but they knew by implication. No one was to trespass on other Hackett's properties. It was a rule reinforced as much for safety as it was to keep the focus on the camp itself. By the time they all settled down to dinner in the lodge's dining area, everyone had mingled enough to seem comfortable. Counselors and staff alike found their places at different tables, forming natural groups.Even as he ate, though, Travis's gaze strayed across the room to Laura, who was laughing and chatting with the other counselors at a table across the way. Seated with the senior staff as he was, Travis felt his eyes constantly flicking back to her in glances at the ease and joy that felt painfully familiar. She'd chosen to sit with the younger counselors, and he understood why but it didn’t make it easier. Didn't make it sting any less. For months, he'd envisioned her arrival as this one time when he could be alone with her again, even if only briefly—hug her, or just have a minute to talk to her in hushed tones.He'd thought she would come later, and find him in the office afterwards. His heart hung on that hope all afternoon.As the evening finally wound down, he dismissed the crew with a reminder of the early schedule the following morning. He kept his tone light but firm, instinctively falling into the authoritative voice that years in law enforcement had nurtured. He headed back to his office, half-expecting Laura to catch up with him as he went, but when he reached it, he was alone.He settled in, trying to keep busy, but his eyes kept darting toward the door. He responded to a few late mails, reviewed some final camp preparations, and every so often checked the clock. The time crawled along—minutes lengthening into hours. Midnight came and passed. He felt his heart sink as the reality of it hit him with a hollow feeling: she wasn't coming.He leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the wall ahead under the dim light of the office. He had waited so long for this summer, waited for an opportunity to reconnect with her. Tonight, he was left to himself with only silence to ring within his mind and remind him of what he had lost.Even if she was never his to lose in the first place. The days following were a whirlwind of preparation at the camp. Staff meetings were filled with scheduling, protocols, and safety routines as everyone readied themselves for the arrival of the campers. From the best routes for hiking trails to the layout for arts and crafts, they planned everything in detail. He was learning fast why Chris had gripped for years about the drudgery of running the camp—between establishing rules and a schedule of events, it piled up as work upon work. Yet the routine kept him anchored. His years in law enforcement had taught him how to manage logistics, how to anticipate possible problems, skills that would be priceless with kids around. He was ready for this challenge.Mornings consistently found Travis following his routine: an early coffee, a solitary check of the trails at dawn, and a final walk-through of the grounds in the evenings. He knew the werewolf threat was over, but he just couldn't get past the need to be first and last in the camp every day, to be the one making sure it was all clear, that monsters weren't hiding in a bush.He'd take to the trails every morning at dawn, hoping to find the peace he used to find there. And every morning, on those same trails, he'd find Laura, jogging with a sure and even pace. She'd run a couple of circles around him with a teasing "On your left, Sheriff," her voice buoyant, almost liberated. He'd plaster a polite smile on his face and get that ping in his chest. He thought that that was going to be their chance, there was where they were going to finally reconnect, but she kept running past him. Away. Like that day she saw her for the first time under the sun as she ran away from Hackett’s Quarry. The brief interaction was inevitably followed by an empty feeling, the understanding of how things had shifted between them.When the campers finally arrived, Hackett's Quarry roared to life with laughter, conversation, and the joyful screams of children making new acquaintances with the woods. The counselors were building their relationships with their group members, but Laura in particular was taking this a step further. The kids really liked her—when any kid found an injured animal or a bug worth saving, they would run to find her, carrying her name across the camp in excited voices. There was just something naturally warm about her, and it seemed as though she let everyone in, most especially the kids, right away.The staff appreciated Laura's energy, also, Travis suspected they must have known something about her story. Whispers occasionally filled the room when her name was mentioned. They looked at him with that same mixture of curiosity and pity he knew was reserved for him. Still, all of Laura's success with the kids only added to his sense of loneliness, as if he were some stranger, too, watching her move on.He kept telling himself it was all right, that this was the distance he had asked for, to test if indeed she had real feelings for him. It is just that each time he saw her with the other counselors, laughing easily amongst them while he crossed on his errands, he felt hollow inside.Then the supernatural stories didn’t take long to appear on the evenings by the fire, and sadly, they escalated like an unattended flame. One night, several counselors and older campers had sat around the campfire amidst a hot stillness. A chill ran down Travis' spine; an instinctual feeling that the air wasn't right. Heather, one of the counselors, was midway through a story when Lilly, a younger camper, called out, "Did you see that?”Her voice strained, pointed into the trees toward what she believed to be a figure—what she described as a woman in grey staring back. The giggles of the other kids turned into gasps as they strained their eyes into the woods. Travis pushed through; his voice was firm in assurance that they were simply seeing things, though he too felt that prickling so often familiar to his skin. It wasn't that kind of ghost story, scare-the-pants-off-you variety; something darker unsettled them all. He ordered all of them back to their cabins and took Lilly aside, assuring her it was just shadows and imagination.But she remained pale, looking back at the trees, unable to dispel what she thought she saw. The disturbances began to be almost a norm on successive nights. The cabin doors creaked open on their own accord, and the campers told tales of whispers in the dark, the flicker of a grey figure just beyond the tree line. Calls started coming in from parents, calling to find out what was happening at the camp. Each call, each complaint, wore down Travis's patience; frustration growing inside.It was as if the Quarry itself was taunting him, almost dragging him back into the darkness he had fought so hard to be out of.Meanwhile, Laura didn't seem to notice he existed. She fell easily into a pattern of days with the kids, her laughter carrying through the camp as she played games, went on hikes, and helped the kids learn about the forest. At night, she'd gather them around the fire, laughing and telling them stories. And as Travis watched her from afar, she seemed happier than he'd ever seen her. Mornings had been his first and last moment alone with Laura, stolen fragments of time when their paths crossed during his walks and her runs. It always seemed she knew which trail he'd chosen, that somehow he'd left some invisible marker behind. Without fail, she called out her playful tease, "On your left, Sheriff," her voice light and familiar, carrying through the crisp morning air.He nodded, and his lips twitched into a small, involuntary smile that didn't disappear for long afterward when her figure vanished into the trees. Those instants had become his mute ritual, a part of the day he egoistically carved out all for himself, even if he wouldn't ever say it aloud.But then one morning, everything changed.She wasn't alone.Jack—one of the counselors—had joined her. His long legs moved with an ease matching hers; their conversation was punctuated by laughter carrying faintly on the breeze. It shouldn't have bothered Travis—it was perfectly innocent—but that fleeting moment of warmth he'd found in her morning greetings vanished.The voice came back with a bang, it crept in behind his mind, insidious and relentless, whispering truths he didn't want to hear. Of course she's moving on. It's the rational thing to do. He could almost hear it, the bitter whisper in his ear.
You're too old for her, Hackett. Too broken. He's a better match—young, bright, with a whole life ahead of him. What do you have to offer her? Pain? Regret? A legacy of blood and scars?
The thoughts coiled around his chest like a vice, squeezing tighter with every passing second.He felt it in the pit of his belly, that silent, poisonous conviction that he had never—and would never—be good enough for her. That whatever they had shared, whatever tenuous connection they'd managed to create in that dingy basement, had been nothing more than a short-lived hallucination. She deserves better than you, the voice hissed. She deserves someone who can hold their own with her, who doesn't pack the baggage of a shattered family and a haunted past.He clenched his jaw and dug his nails into his palms, fighting to silence it. But the voice lingered on, a constant gnawing presence.And the worst part?Somewhere deep down, he believed it.The ache crept in gradually, a hollow weight that pressed against his chest every time he saw them. It wasn't just the runs. He noticed her spending more time with him during the day, whether swimming to the island with Nuria, gathering supplies for activities, or sitting at meals together. She smiled easily, laughed freely, and seemed so at ease in their company.And Travis? He was a ghost in his own camp, watching her drift away.It was exactly what he'd hoped for during those endless nights in the basement. He had told himself he'd endure anything to see her free, whole, and happy again.But why here?Why come to Hackett's Quarry, the place where she knew he was, only to act like he wasn't even part of her world anymore? If she'd decided to move on, why do it right in front of him knowing how much she meant to him? The question gnawed at him, each thought twisting the knife deeper.It just wasn't fair.And yet, guilt followed hard on the heels of his anger. She wasn't flaunting anything—Laura wasn't cruel. And she didn’t owe him anything. But still, the sight of her laughing with Jack or teasing Nuria in the lodge left him reeling. Why couldn’t she do the same with him? Why couldn’t she talk to him about something more than the bloody kids, or meetings, or activities? Why didn't she even try to touch him again? Always one step back, always one broken bridge between them, every time he saw her another rock would break from the structure and fall in the river. Every quiet moment without her was heavier, the silence suffocating. He thought back to those mornings when the sound of her voice alone could sustain him, her quick wit like balm to restless thoughts. Now she was just… gone, even when she was right in front of him.He kept telling himself this was what they'd agreed upon—to take a year, to reflect upon their feelings, to figure out what they wanted without the weight of obligation. But he hadn't anticipated this: the overwhelming silence, the aching distance, the hollow certainty that she was slipping through his fingers.Every time he saw her now, it felt like he had taken a gut punch. She seemed so radiant, so alive, but he was stuck in this aching limbo. He missed her more than he thought possible, and every reminder of her absence cut deeper.Why did it feel like she was slipping away entirely, taking with her the last pieces of his hope?He would have been alright if he didn't see her. If the year had quietly passed in solitude, if he'd climbed that mountain at dawn where they made their promise, finding himself alone atop it, he would have accepted it. Travis was ready to stand at the peak, yell to the sky how Laura was the love of his life, to then come back down a new, broken man. A man resigned to the quiet ache of solitude, spending the rest of his days knowing the angel who had once blessed him with her presence was now happy—as he had so desperately prayed for her to be.He could have lived with that knowledge, with the pain of her absence, as long as he knew she was whole and free, that she had finally forgotten him. But seeing her day after day, and not being a part of her world? That was a torment he hadn't prepared for.Being alone in the mountain would have hurt, not seeing her again would have been very painful too, yes, but it would have been clean. A wound to nurse in privacy, to let scar over with time.But this?Her laughter carried throughout the camp, light and free, periodically interrupted by the hum of conversation as she walked with Jack or Nuria. The sound was in sharp contrast to the silence that had settled between them, heavier than any endured in the basement.Travis clenched his fists, battling the bitterness that threatened to consume him. He didn't want to resent her. He didn't want to feel this way.But God, it was hard. The voices in his head whispering evilness, selfish lies and painful truths. Why did it feel like she was pulling further away? Why did her presence here—so close and yet so far—tear at him more than her absence ever could?The ache in his chest was now a constant throb, a wound more serious than the gunshot that nearly ended him. He missed her so much it hurt, but more than that, he missed them—the quiet moments, the silent understanding, the unspoken bond that had carried them through the darkest days. And now, as she laughed and ran and lived without him, he wondered if she missed it, too—or if he'd already lost her altogether.Days went by, and he wasn't so sure how much longer he could bear his own terms. His attention laxed, his patience grew thinner. He grew snappish, sometimes berating campers or counselors with more severity than he meant to display. The ghost stories and increasing uneasiness did nothing to improve his irritability. At one stage, when another counselor had mentioned strange noises they'd heard, Travis curtly shut them down, informing them outright that the Hackett’s Quarry wasn't a place for 'pranks or ghost hunts' and that this was a summer camp, not some tourist trap.He heard his tone grow harsher, yet seemed unable to rein himself in. Laura noticed his tension, her eyes tracking him more closely as he stormed off after each complaint. She'd pause, as if about to approach him, but she never did. He could feel the strain building in him, all this holding together and trying to manage. He was the director, and this was his responsibility. And yet, every evening, alone in his room, he became so acutely aware of her absence, the sum of their collective memory heavy upon his chest.The camp joined in with ghostly echoes of laughter and whispers, and every morning he'd rise early, gaze over the grounds, and try to shake that unsure feeling that something was waiting for him in the dark, just out of view.July arrived with a bittersweet taste. This was going to be the first year he didn’t get a birthday card from his mother, a pat on the back from his father, Chris invitation to dinner with the kids, Bobby’s bear hug. But it started as a typical day, as usual. He woke up, had his coffee, went on his morning patrol—and then caught sight of Laura Kearney in her blue running outfit, shining brightly under the morning light as she jogged on his very path. For one shining moment, all his stress and crushing fatigue vanished.Only to fall back again when Jack came up beside her, jogging at an easy pace to meet Laura's."Morning, Mr. T," Jack greeted with a wave that was casual and grinned as if it was any other day."Morning, Sheriff," Laura added with a playful smile as she jogged ahead and then back, teasing loops around him. Travis tipped his hat slightly, his tone measured. "Morning, kids.”Laura slowed her playful circles, falling in step beside him for a brief moment. "Hey, any chance we can do a nature scavenger hunt for the younger kids today? Nuri and Jack are on board, and I thought it'd be nice to mix it up a bit. Maybe you could help us pick out some spots around the Quarry?”Travis nodded, his jaw working to defeat the rise of tension in it. "Sure. Let me know the details."Laura gave him another bright smile. "Thanks, Sheriff."And then she was off, a burst of energy as she and Jack disappeared down the trail, their easy laughter carrying on the breeze. Travis saw as Jack leaned toward her, whispering something in her ear. Whatever he had said, she froze for just a second, the deepest red spreading across her face before she turned, casting him a mock glare with a raised middle finger; her other hand waved for him to keep going while her jog ahead was now overdramatic.A very loud laugh boomed behind her, and she turned into it, joining it, her laughter clear, uninhibited—a sound Travis didn't think he'd heard from her coming his way in what felt like forever.Travis remained behind, his eyes still on the path where they'd vanished. Something squeezed uncomfortably in his chest. He couldn't help but wonder why she could never be that way with him anymore, why her energy, her warmth, always seemed to dull just a little when she was around him.He dragged a hand down his face, releasing a heavy sigh. Already, he knew this day was going to suck.Later that afternoon, Travis saw Laura, Jack, and Nuria taking the lead of the younger kids on the scavenger hunt after some directions he had given them before starting. The group's laughter was light, carried faintly across the campgrounds, but it grated against Travis' nerves more than it should. He lingered in his office window, watching Laura crouch down to show one of the kids something on the ground, Jack and Nuria nearby, keeping the group together before disappearing together in the bush.Sighing, he turned back to his desk, running a hand down his face. His office phone rang, jolting him, but when he answered, the line was silent. A second call yielded the same result. Irritated, he snatched up his cell phone and called the office line, making sure it was working. The phone rang normally, confirming there was no issue.It hasn’t been the first silent call, but the number of calls were making him worry about the phone line. It seemed to work fine when there was actually a call coming through but other times there was only silence, or an unsettling white noise. He ignored it, deciding to focus on his endless pile of paperwork from camp. The hours trudged along until a knock finally came at the door to his office.He opened it to reveal Nuria standing in the hallway, her customary impassive expression tempered by a hint of uncertainty and worry."What's up, Ms. Thorne?" Travis asked, stepping aside to let her in.Nuri's voice was smooth, even, but there was a jump of urgency under the serene exterior as she entered Travis's office. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Mr. T. We just got a couple of kids coming to us to tell us that two of them dared each other to go to the old Hackett's house," she said in a rush. "Jack and Laura have gone to fetch them now, but I stayed behind to let you know. I know that house is off bounds."Travis's stomach dropped.He sprang in one smooth motion, already reaching for his keys, his mind racing. The thought of that house, of anyone stepping foot near it—let alone Laura—sent a wave of dread coursing through him. That house wasn't just a relic of the past; it was alive with ghosts of what transpired within its walls. Too much blood. Too many secrets. Too much pain. Too many nightmares still looming in his brain at night. It was almost completely empty already, but still a dangerous place to be, not just for the memories but for the old now abandoned structure.Without a word to the counselor, he stormed out, heading straight for his car.As he drove, the trees lining Hackett's Quarry blurred into green smears, but his focus was singular. His pulse quickened with every turn in the road, every thought spiraling darker. What the hell had Laura been thinking? She had no business being anywhere near that house. He had made that clear, hadn't he? And yet, she went anyway.
With Jack.
It was like a spark on dry tinder, kindling something raw and unsteady inside him. She hadn't even told him directly—she sent a messenger instead. Couldn't even be bothered to see him for something this serious. The nerve of her.A voice curled softly through the chaos in his mind, low and insistent.
You know why. She doesn't respect you. She's already moved on.
Travis's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles whitening. That wasn't true. Laura wouldn't…
Wouldn't what? Ignore you? Replace you? She's with Jack now, isn't she? Happy and away from you.
"No," he muttered under his breath. His stomach twisted violently, but the whisper slithered deeper, wrapping around his insecurities like a vice.
You were happier in the basement, weren't you? At least there she needed you. At least there she wasn't running away from you. Everything was easier with her when she was locked.
When you had the key.
The thought came unbidden, venomous and cruel. It made him want to retch. That couldn't be his own voice—could it? He hated the basement. Hated what it had done to both of them, what he had almost done to her. The nightmares of his hands around her neck still followed him at night, making him wake up in a sweat, crawling like a dog to the toilet where he emptied his stomach. No matter how much he scrubbed himself clean in the shower those nights, the hate, the self-load, the complete despair couldn’t be washed away. There was something wrong with that house. He could feel it, the way its shadow seemed to stretch even now, miles away. Those thoughts couldn't be his own.He pressed his foot harder on the gas, headlights cutting through the late afternoon gloom as he scanned the road ahead. He had to get her out of there, as far from that place as possible.And then, through the haze of panic, he saw them.Laura, Jack, and two kids came into view walking on the shoulder of the road. Relief washed over him, sudden and overpowering. He pulled sharply over onto the shoulder; dirt crunched under his tires as he rolled down his window."Get in," he said shortly.The tension in his voice was enough to quiet even Jack's usual joking demeanor, who had started waving and smiling at him like he thought of himself a hero for finding the kids, until Travis' voice snapped him to reality. The kids scrambled into the back seat, and Laura slid in beside them. Jack hesitated before climbing into the passenger seat, clearly sensing the storm brewing.Travis gripped the wheel tightly as they drove back to the Quarry. His jaw was clenched, and his knuckles white as he fought back frustration with each controlled movement. Laura watched him cautiously, her brow furrowed, but she said nothing.As soon as they got there, Travis ushered everyone into his office. The kids sat sheepishly in the chairs in front of his desk, fidgeting under his no-nonsense glare. He scolded them sharply for the dangers of that house and reminded them that trespassing was against the law—his sheriff demeanor firmly in place.“That place is off-limits," he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "It's outside the boundaries of the Quarry, and you have no business being there. Do you understand me?"The kids nodded quickly, mumbling hurried apologies. Laura stood off to the side, her arms crossed, her frown deepening as she watched him."You'll be hearing from your parents," Travis added. "Now, get out of my sight."The kids ran, glad to be free of his wrath, but the tension in Travis's shoulders didn't relent. He turned to Jack and Laura, his eyes stormy with frustration. "You two, stay."Laura straightened at his tone but held her ground. Jack stuck awkwardly near the door, shifting his weight nervously.When the kids were gone, Laura stepped forward. "Tr—Mr. Hackett, they didn't even get to the house—""How could you let this happen?" Travis snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence, his voice coarse and authoritative. "Who left them alone? How could you be so careless?" His eyes jerked back and forth between Laura and Jack, the tension in the room crackling. "I don't care what's going on between you two; the kids come first!"Jack flinched, instinctively taking a step forward before Laura's razor-sharp glare made him freeze."This was my fault," she said, her tone unwavering, though her jaw clenched. "Not Jack's.""Your fault?" Travis's frustration boiled over, and his voice rose as his composure slipped. "I don't even know what you're doing here, Laura."She froze, blinking at him with incredulousness. Her eyes narrowed, anger flaring to life as she stepped closer. "What the fuck does that mean?"Jack tried to intervene, raising a placating hand. "Hey, maybe we should all just take a—""Stay out of this," Travis snapped, the sharp blade of his tone cutting through the air.Laura's cold, commanding voice cut through next. "Jack, leave."Travis's jaw tightened, the muscles working visibly as he replied, "I'm not done talking.""Yes, you are," Laura said sharply, leaving no room for argument.Jack hesitated, looking between them, before Laura's unrelenting stare made the decision for him. He gave a small nod and slipped out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.The silence behind him was thick, heavy with unresolved tension. Laura didn't budge, her eyes fixed with his. "Are you done yelling at me? Or do you want to go another round? Because I'm wide awake, and I've got all night."Travis's shoulders sagged as a heavy sigh escaped him. He leaned back against his desk, the heat of his earlier anger giving way to guilt. "I—" His voice faltered, and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to lose my temper."Laura didn't budge, her arms crossed, her eyes never leaving him. Her voice was softer now, but the edge of reproach was there. "I understand, you got scared. The idea of anyone—of me—being close to that house makes your skin crawl. But it certainly doesn't give you any right to take it out on the kids, or your counselors, or me."He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "You're right."Laura's voice went quiet now, almost reluctant. "It was my fault. I wanted to give Nuri and Jack some space to talk—to figure things out. I thought I could handle the rest of the kids on my own. I kept them busy gathering things in the forest, but… I misjudged it. I got distracted. I didn't notice when they wandered off. I shouldn't have let them out of my sight. I'm sorry, Travis."Travis stared at her; his brow furrowed. "Wait… I thought—" He then hesitated, the words catching in his throat. "Never mind.""What?" Laura tilted her head, curiosity lacing her tone with caution.He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, his ears reddening. "I just—assumed." He coughed into his throat, sidestepping her gaze altogether. "Never mind. I'm an idiot.""Well, you're not wrong there. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't assume stuff and then get mad with me for what you have made up in your goddamn mind.""Noted." He avoided her gaze, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.Laura watched him for a moment, her face softening. "What did you mean earlier? When you said you didn't know what I'm doing here? You accepted my application as a counselor, we talked about me being here. Why say something like that?"His jaw clenched and he looked away, his frustration turning inward. "I didn't mean it," he said quietly. "I just… it's been a lot lately."Her eyes looked at him with a hidden feeling, her voice softer now. "You've been tense for a while, I've noticed. I'm here if you want to talk. You don't have to carry it all alone, Travis."He faltered for a second. Then, his eyes slipped toward her again, to let loose a tired, cynical laugh. "Talk? I wouldn't even know where to begin.”"Try," she pressed, taking a seat across from him. Her tone was soft but insistent.He hesitated and then began to speak his words thick with emotion. "I knew that after all that—after what we decided—things between us would be different," he revealed. "You said that we'd give it a year, but I didn't think that meant absolutely no contact. No calls, no texts. Then you show up here, and I think—maybe, we'll finally talk. But you haven't even looked at me."Laura's face changed; the guilt was written across it. "I thought that's what you wanted," she said quietly. "Space. Time apart to figure things out.""Space, maybe," Travis said, his voice cracking slightly. "Not silence. Not you acting like I don't exist."Laura leapt abruptly to her feet, taking a step closer to him. "I've never—" Her hand rose, the fingers hovering in the air as she might reach for his arm, but before contact could be made, the fragile moment was snapped by a sharp knock at the door. It creaked open before the permission was granted, revealing Nuria, her face flushed and filled with contrition."I'm sorry!" she blurted. "Jack told me you two were fighting, it was my fault that the kids ran away. Not Laura's. Please don't expel her!"Travis leaned back in the desk, shaking his head in bemusement. Laura, meanwhile, gave a small, sighed laugh—a light, genuine sound that broke the tension like a spring rain."Nuri, it's okay," Laura said. "Really. You don't have to worry."Nuria hesitated. "Are you sure?"Laura looked at Travis for a second, smiling warmly, before looking back at Nuria. "Positive."“I—I’m sorry for interrupting but—” she looked in between them. “We need to gather the kids to start with dinner soon too.”Laura turned back to Travis, her expression softening as her gaze met his. "Can we talk later?" she asked gently, her voice carrying a quiet earnestness. "I feel like there's been a huge misunderstanding, and there's still so much more I need to say."Travis nodded, his throat tightening. "Yeah," he rasped out. "We can talk later."Giving one last, lingering look, Laura stepped away and allowed Nuri to pull her toward the door by the arm. With a soft click, it shut behind them, and Travis was left in the quiet office alone.He stared at the space where she'd been standing, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on him. But for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something lighter—hope.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The heavy night air clung over Hackett's Quarry, thick with the scent of pine and earth, still except when a murmur of wind would work its way through the trees. Shadows stretched in long, silvery tones under the pale moonlight, which turned a camp once familiar into something stranger, something just shy of unsettling.Travis had completed his rounds, his quiet footsteps following the familiar path past the cabins in a check that each camper was in their proper place, each cabin settled for the night. He felt serene; he liked this part of the camp the best—just his steadying presence assured the children's safety beneath the stars. Coming to the end of the route, he was mentally preparing for what the next day's tasks were going to bring when he saw outside Cabin Seven a figure—still outlines, small and alone, bathed by the light of the moon at the center of the clearing, next to the tree.He stopped, narrowing his eyes as the figure came into focus slowly—one of the younger campers, Sam, a kid with a bright, eager face and usually boundless energy. But now, Sam's small form seemed tense, his flashlight casting a thin, shaking beam across the ground, as if searching for something—or someone—in the shadows.Travis's demeanor had gone from calm to concerned in an instant as he approached him, his low voice even with warmth. "Sam?" he called, taking slow guarded steps toward him. "What are you doing out here so late?”The sudden sound of Travis's voice sent Sam whipping around; his face was half-illuminated by the silvery light, the rest shrouded in shadow. Whereas normally a glint of curiosity shone brightly in his eyes, deep unease now consumed Sam to the point that his hold on the flashlight was tight enough to pale his knuckles."I… heard my mom calling me so I came out and then—I saw someone, Mr. T." The boy whispered it as if he were afraid to say it loud enough. He looked back at the window of his cabin and darted his gaze at the shadows. Travis noticed the faint shake in his voice. "She… she was outside the window. Just standing there… looking right at me."Travis felt the all-too-familiar tug of tension in his shoulders, the feeling of instinct telling him to listen. He leaned in closer to him, his face softening as he knelt down to meet Sam's gaze. "Can you tell me what she looked like?"Sam's brow furrowed, his young face twisting in thought as he swallowed, glancing back at the darkened window of his cabin. "I couldn't see her very well, she was dressed in grey, but I couldn't see her face… but it was like she was just… watching us, watching me." He paused, and his voice wavered. "I told the others, but… they didn't believe me.”A flash of frustration crossed Travis's eyes. The campfire ghost stories were supposed to be harmless fun, to keep the campers amused and give them a bit of adventure in the night. But this—this fear in Sam's voice was a bit more than the campfire tales. He already banned the ghost stories from the camp, how was this still happening?He laid a firm but soothing hand on Sam's shoulder, feeling the kid's tension ease just a bit under his touch. "Listen, Sam, no one's out there, alright? It's easy to see shapes and shadows at night when we're all tired. They play tricks on us." Soothing and careful was his voice. "If you see anything again, though, come straight to me. I'll make sure you're safe, okay?"Sam nodded, his eyes slowly turning to Travis with a glimmer of trust shining in them. "Okay… Thanks, Mr. T." The words were soft, and he eased off just a little bit the tension holding tight to his shoulders. He turned towards the cabin, heading back inside.Travis watched him go, feeling the weight of the night settle deeper around him. As Sam disappeared into the cabin, Travis took one last look around the grounds, scanning the tree line—the shadows moving like they had lives of their own. He forced himself to breathe, chalking it up to nothing more than an overactive imagination and the dim lighting.Yet, an eerie shiver clung to him long after he had gone farther on his way down the lane. Travis had spent days re-playing Laura's words in his mind—the weight of her confession, the quiet ache of longing to speak with her once more. But between one thing and another, it was like they were always just missing each other. He got caught up in a whirlwind of endless demands, and whenever he wasn't busy, she was. Barely any time was spent alone. The children, too, seemed to whisper whenever he walked by, their eyes darting away as if they knew something he didn't know—and that was starting to get under his nerves.But this day felt different. Travis had spent the whole morning trying to get through it. Every task loomed before him, an endless wave that never quite crested. His morning walk hadn't helped—it had only unsettled him. Laura passed him on the trail, that damned, easy smile lighting her face. And beside her was Jack, matching her stride, the two of them moving as if they belonged together."Morning, Sheriff," Laura called out playfully, the same easy cheeriness in her voice that had always drawn him in. But with Jack there, beside her, Travis felt something twist in his chest. They couldn't talk with that damn kid there.That ache stayed with him throughout the day, gnawing at his thoughts as he trudged through camp request after camp request. The day had been consumed in a trail of camp drudgery: supply run, detour to find extra bandages at the nurse's last-minute request, and trying to sort out the double-booking in the art cabin. By the time his car rolled back up to the lodge, the darkness outside was matched by the heavy weight in his chest. His stomach growled, twisted by hunger, and his exhaustion pulled at his limbs. Too tired to think, he stepped out of the vehicle, rubbing the back of his neck.But the lodge was dark. Every single window.At dinner time, the lodge should have been alight with chatter and laughter, the hum of campers' conversations filling the air. Instead, an eerie unnatural quiet had fallen over everything.A strange dread coiled in Travis's chest, tightening like a vise with each step closer toward the door. Something wasn't right.Where was everybody? Was Laura safe?The thought was like a blow to his stomach, and he stopped breathing. The fear grew stronger, as if the feeling had crept into his bones and his instincts told him that something was awfully wrong. There was no sound, either laughter, or a faint thud of footsteps, or creaks of the kitchen floor. Silence, stiflingly and ominously.It was the sort of quiet that spoke of something dreadfully wrong.Travis swallowed hard, shaking off the chill creeping up his spine. His steps quickened, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he climbed the stairs two at a time. His mind whirled with questions, each more disconcerting than the last. Where had everybody gone? Why were the lights out? What kind of danger could empty the entire lodge?He reached the door and hesitated, his breath catching as the thought of what might be waiting beyond clawed at his mind. Had something happened to Laura? The campers? His staff?The door creaked as he pushed it open, the sound sharp and jarring in the oppressive silence. He stepped inside, his pulse racing. The room was shrouded in shadows, the kind of darkness that felt heavy, almost alive. His eyes darted around the space, every muscle in his body tense.For one fleeting, chilling moment, he believed that he'd stepped right into one of his many nightmares—a memory contorted into something worse, something darker.Then, without warning, the lights blazed on."Surprise!" exploded a chorus of voices as the silence shattered. Campers and counselors jumped from their hiding spots, grinning ear to ear. "Happy Birthday, Mr. T!"For a moment, Travis stiffened, his breath held tight in his chest. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath. It took him a second to shake the lingering anxiety off, but as the crowd cheered, the weight lifted from his chest, though he couldn't deny the weight of an unsettling feeling that remained. He smiled—but strained, still too rattled from the tense silence that had greeted him."Happy birthday, Sheriff," Laura called out, her tone a soothing anchor in what otherwise felt like a chaos of a moment. She stepped forward, her eyes meeting his with that soft, reassuring smile, as though she knew precisely what had been running through his mind.Travis exhaled, feeling a little lighter but still thrown off. It took several more minutes for his heart to slow, for the giggles to not seem on his behalf but genuinely including him. The fear, the sense of wrongness that had overwhelmed him, receded. Still, an echo of that silence seemed to ring in his head long after, and he wondered if his instincts were trying to tell him about something a lot worse than a surprise party.It all clicked into place then—the strange, busy days, the constant distractions, the way everyone seemed to have an excuse to keep him away from classrooms or areas, or even keeping him moving from one task to another. And Laura, always busy, always so distant when he had a second of free time after that last talk on his office. It all made sense now. They had been working behind the scenes to surprise him for the last week.His eyes finally came to rest on Laura after he was dragged through all the sea of small smiles, standing at the back of the room, her eyes glinting with that small, knowing smile that caused his heart to stutter. He hadn't told a soul it was his birthday. Nobody knew the date; it was so damn secretive that it has been the password of his computer at the station. And there she was, knowingly sharing it to make it special for him. The only one who knew, who remembered. His blue-eyed woman, holding the secret close to her heart.As one of the kids handed him a cupcake with only one flickering candle, Travis couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. He made a silent wish, the flicker of the candle reflecting the quiet hope that had built up in him for so long. When he blew it out, the room erupted into applause and cheers, but all he could focus on was Laura—her widening smile, her eyes still locked on him.He watched her across the room, his heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and awe. For all the time they had spent apart, all the tension, the silence that had defined their recent months—this moment, this simple gesture, was a reminder that things could still be right between them, even before they had the chance to talk. A feeling of warmth spread through him, the kind that came from knowing she, a woman who had been a part of the darkest part of his life, was now here with him in one of the brightness.The kids, all filled with excitement, led the charge with different party games where everyone joined in, including musical chairs and dance challenges. It was complete chaos, though the kind of chaos it would be quite easy to get lost within. Travis had expected a quiet evening, perhaps a few well-wishes, but what he got was a whirlwind of joy that made his heart lift in ways he hadn't felt in a long time.Laura, usually so reserved around unknown people, was in her element. She laughed and clapped, cheered the kids on as they danced, lighting up the room with her presence. She moved with ease between the games; her natural energy drew people to her. Travis found himself watching her every move. She looked stunning, radiant and full of life. It was like a beacon in the room, her smile, her laughter; every time she looked his way, it made his heartbeat stop.At one point, during a particularly rowdy dance-off game, Laura pulled him into the circle. She was laughing, her hair bouncing with every step, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on, Sheriff, show us your moves!" she teased, her voice playful as she reached out and dragged him to the center.Travis's pulse was racing, but not from the dancing, from being close to her, from the way she was looking at him. His heart swelled, the knot of frustration and longing he had carried for so long easing just a little. He gave in to the moment—feet moving clumsily first, then with rhythm—and before long, they were both laughing together, taken by the easy fun of the game.It felt so natural, so easy, as though they had slipped right back into the same easy camaraderie they'd shared before. There was no distance between them for a few moments, none of the unspoken words or tension. It was just the two of them, enjoying the simple act of being together again.The more the games went on, the more Travis found himself gravitating back to her time and time again. He couldn't get enough of her—laugh, movement, how she was effortlessly the light of the room without trying. She was the life of the party in his eyes. He caught himself watching her, mesmerized by her every movement, her every smile, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of deep affection for her, the kind that felt so right, so meant to be, that it almost took his breath away.He didn't leave the living area of the lodge until late, cleaning up after the party and bidding goodnights to campers and counselors alike. At last he was in his own office, about to call it a night when a soft knock came at his office door. He let out a sigh, preparing for another camper and some 'drawing' of himself frowning, no doubt. But when he opened the door, his breath stopped.There she was."Laura—" he managed, voice barely above a whisper and belying the hope and hurt that was tangled within him."Hey, Travs," she said, holding up a paper wrapped gift—something childish and oh god, so Laura— with a lopsided grin. "Happy Birthday."His instincts kicked in, "I don’t need another phone," he blurted.She scorned, her eyes rolling in that way he missed more than he cared to admit. "It’s not a phone, you moron." She shoved the package into his arms. "You going to let me in or what?""Oh, yeah… yeah, come on in," he mumbled, stepping aside, dumbstruck.Laura wandered inside and he closed the door behind her, the surreal calm of her presence settling over him like a shroud. She spun back, her eyes meeting his with an expectant silence, and he felt the change in her, a steadiness that caused an ache in his chest."You can… you can sit if you want," he muttered, nodding toward the chair opposite his desk. She collapsed into it, dropping her bag to the floor beside her."I’m sorry it took so long for me to come, we have been quite busy. How have you been?" she asked, casual in her voice, but razor-sharp in her eyes as she looked at him."Good. No big changes. Bobby says hi, by the way," he added, letting a small, hesitant smile slip through. He took a sit on the chair on his desk, more to have something to do rather than want to sit down. He left the present in front of him, too distracted with her presence to actually play attention to anything else. She had that power over him. Laura's face softened into a full smile, something bright and real. "Tell Big B I said hi," she replied, her tone low.The silence between them was heavy, oppressive, like a weight neither could quite shift. Travis sat stiffly in his chair, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk as if anchoring himself to the spot. His jaw tightened before finally, words burst out, raw and unfiltered."What did you want to talk about?"His tone wasn't heavy, but there was such a thread of vulnerability running in that Laura didn't miss. She slid her hands into the depth of her pockets; and avoided his eyes for a pretty long moment. When she finally looked up, a storm of emotions faced him in her face."I wanted to apologize," she said, her voice quieter now, as if the words had taken immense effort to form. "I'm sorry I was so distant. I thought… I thought I was doing what was best, but if it hurt you—that's on me. I never, ever meant to make you feel like I didn't want you in my life. That's literally the last thing I ever wanted."She hesitated, her brow furrowing as she searched his face for some sign of understanding. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, more reflective. "I thought I was keeping our promise, keeping some kind of boundary that would make this easier for both of us. But it… backfired. I thought you were fine, but seeing you now, how have you been for the last couple of weeks… I know I hurt you. And I'm so, so sorry for that."Laura's hands slipped free of her pockets, gesturing lightly toward the space around them—the desk piled high with papers, the campground beyond the office window. "When you told me to call you if I ever needed you," she continued, her voice steadying, "that wasn't just a one-way street. That goes both ways, Travs. I know you've been through hell—more than any man should have to bear—and I can still see it, the way you carry all of it… alone."Her voice dropped to a softer pitch, both imploring and sincere. "But you don't have to, you know. If you ever needed me, I would've been here. I am here. And I will always be here for you. I thought you knew that. I was expecting you to come to me if you needed to. I should've realized you might've been waiting for me too. I feel we have just waited for the other person to make a move without wanting to break our part of the promise we made to each other.”Travis let his breath out slow, his shoulders sagging as her words settled into the places he hadn't known existed in him. Running a hand down his face, he met her eyes with a reluctant sigh."It's not all on you," he said—the words low, yet laced with threads of guilt. "I might have had too many expectations when you decided to come to Hackett's Quarry in the first place.”“Expectations?" she whispered, her tone soft yet searching.Travis hesitated, a hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. He looked away, his brow furrowing deeply. "I thought.I thought maybe we'd reconnect. You coming back here—I hoped it meant something more. But then you started pulling away, and it felt like—like you were avoiding me. Like maybe you'd already moved on." His voice cracked faintly at the edges, betraying the weight of what he'd been holding back.Travis felt it as a chasm opening, one that no matter what he might say, he could never close. He wanted to say so much more. To tell her how the last few months had been a nightmare in ways he hadn't fully anticipated. It wasn't just the trial, which had felt like his family's history finally crashing down, sealing a tragic legacy he couldn't escape. No, it was everything else that followed—the crushing solitude of being the last Hackett left, having a family that, despite all its flaws, had been his, and losing all of it. Visiting the graves of his brother and nephews, standing before the gravestones of lives he never thought he'd outlive, their loss hitting him in waves that left him struggling to stay afloat.And then there was the house—clearing out the family home, both his childhood sanctuary and prison. Memories seemed to weigh heavily within its walls that it was almost palpable against his chest, leaning against and suffocating him, as he packed away remnants of lives no longer here. The voice, that shadow which had taunted him within those walls, was now no more than an echo of grief and guilt; but when he was alone and weak, it sounded so real, so convincing, whispering to him that he was to blame for everything, that he had failed.He felt the need to unburden all of it but couldn't. Instead, he glanced back at her, the vulnerability in his face startling in its rawness.Laura's heart twisted, his words striking a chord deep inside her. She stared at him, her usual confidence wavering under the rawness of his confession. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper."I'm sorry," she said, her hand lifting to grip the edge of his desk lightly. "I thought I was giving you space—what you wanted. What we needed. I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I see how it might've looked to you. How it must've felt."Travis shook his head stiffly, his gaze falling to the desk between them. For a moment, the silence seemed to settle in again, before he finally broke it with a tone sharper than he meant, the words spilling out before he could pull them back."You were just doing what we agreed," he said with a heavy resignation in his voice. He stirred in his chair, clenching the armrests as if they were what kept him anchored. "It's not on you, Laura. This is just me, stuck in my own head, making things worse for myself."
He paused, his lips pressing into a line before the next words spilled out, unfiltered. "But then there's Jack," Travis blurted, the name heavier than he meant it to be. The words tumbled out clumsy, revealing his frustration, his uncertainty. "I see you out there with him every morning… I—I know it's none of my business—"Laura's eyes flew open in a blink of utter surprise. Then her expression turned, and her brow furrowed with an acceptance of reality. There was, for one flashing instant, annoyance around her eyes; then it melted."Wait… you thought Jack and I—?" she started, the inflection rising slightly. "Travis, come on."She shook her head, running a hand through her hair before turning back to him, her voice smooth but laced with irritation and something akin to humor. "Jack's a good guy, sure, but trust me, there is nothing going on there. He's just… Jack." She blew out a small breath, her eyes falling away from his as if choosing her words with care. "Look, I started running in the mornings because I needed to clear my head. It helps me shut everything out—to not to feel trapped—, and at first, that's all it was. But then…" She paused, a faint pink blooming on her cheeks. "Then I saw you out there. On your patrols. That first time? Pure chance. But after that, I… I kept doing it. Because I wanted to see you."Travis's breath caught, low and faint, as her words threaded through his disbelief like a sudden ray of clarity in the fog.Laura glanced away for a moment, as if admitting it was almost too much, before shrugging lightly. “Jack only started running later. And, yeah, he’s a nice guy and all, but everyone here knows he’s head over heels for Nuri. He’s been a great friend—don’t get me wrong—but honestly, all that’s ever been is friendship. It’s easier for him to get closer to me than to her because he is an idiot, but we are working on that. Though he has been teasing me for the longest because he noticed...Well—”The weight of her gaze landed squarely on his, unflinching as she said, without hesitation, “I apparently have a crush…on somebody else.”Travis froze. Confusion pinched at his face, a flicker of doubt warring with the blossoming realization of what she was saying. "Wh—?"Her patience snapped, and though her frustration was hinged on affection, "You, Travis. You absolute, overthinking sandwich of a man!" The words practically burst from her exasperation—laced tone but cracked under the intensity of the emotion. Immediately, her voice softened, raw and shaking with honesty. "What's wrong with you?"The room seemed to hold utterly still. Laura's eyes were shining now—not with tears but with an openness he hadn't allowed himself to imagine. When she spoke again, it was with the fierce sincerity that was so unmistakably her."I've been holding back, fighting myself every single day not to reach out. Because that's what we promised each other. I thought I was making it easier for both of us. But do you know what? Screw that."Her hand shot out, her palm up, her gaze unwavering. "Give me my phone.”"But it's camp policy. I can't just—""Just give me the goddamn phone." She held out her hand and he finally relented, heading to the cabinet where he kept all the phones he had taken away. He handed her the one he'd long since recognized as hers, watching as she flipped it on before placing it down on his desk.As the screen brightened, the password screen flashed and, behind it, there was that one picture they had taken together, the one from atop the mountain. It caused his throat to tighten at the mere sight of it.She stared into him, words spilling with intensity. "I never stopped thinking about you. And yeah, I wanted to keep my promise, but it's been harder than I expected." She took one of those shaking breaths. "That's why I'm here at camp. I just missed you, but I didn't push— so I wouldn't feel like I was failing us. I thought if I acted as usual, you would think that I didn't care enough about you to even try, so I have been putting double effort into it.”Her tone shook a little, and he felt a pang of guilt—of regret. His eyes shifted down, attempting to sort through the storm of emotions twisting inside him. "But… didn't you feel alone? I didn't mean to… I thought maybe I left you alone in all this." She shook her head. "You didn't leave me alone. I chose this. And you want proof of that?" She dug into her bag and brought out a small, red notebook that she slapped onto the desk. "This is how I talked with you every day without breaking the rules."His heart did skip a beat as he looked down at the notebook.
Red Notebook
Travis stared at it, his heart spiking at the sight of the red cover. She didn't flinch as she opened it to the first page to leave it in front of him so he could read—there he saw a familiar scrawl: ‘Dear Travis, today was a rough day, but I kept thinking about our plans…’ Each page had notes, small updates on her life. ‘Hey Travs, Nuri and I survived yoga class, wish you'd been there—’He turned page after page, each one peeling back a small, intimate slice of her life, her thoughts, her soul. The words flowed with an honesty that caught at his chest—each entry written for him. They weren't just notes; they were her way of bridging the gap between them, of keeping him close in the only way she could during their time apart.Here and there, he noticed strange little doodles tucked in the margins, quirky, abstract shapes and figures, whimsical sketches that made him smile despite himself. He remembered those. She used to fill the notebook they'd shared in the red cell with the same kind of sketches, a quiet rebellion against their bleak surroundings, a way to keep herself grounded.Every drawing, every phrase that had been scribbled, was so eminently Laura that it almost hurt. Her essence lived in those pages, unfiltered and unapologetic, her humor and her fury, her hope and her despair. It was as if she'd poured every fragment of herself onto the paper, trusting he would know what to do with it, that he would understand the raw, beating heart behind it all.His thumb brushed over a particularly jagged little sketch, some warped, half-finished attempt at a wolf, its snarl softened by lines that didn't quite connect. A pang went through him, unbidden. Laura always did have a habit of finding ways to create something beautiful, even from the ruins.It wasn't just a notebook. It was her. And somehow, it was them."You turned…" He swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. "You turned this into… into something for us.""You gave me the idea when you gave me your own diary," she whispered, a soft, sad smile curling her lips. "I’ve spent a bit of time on it every day," she admitted, her tone light, almost shy. "There are notes from my classes, some random thoughts, and a bit of paranormal research I’ve been messing with." She let out a small laugh, a self-deprecating chuckle that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Nothing groundbreaking. But it… kept me entertained."Her gaze flickered down, as if the memory momentarily took her elsewhere. Then she grapped it, flipping through the pages with her fingers until she came to the very last one. She read in a softened voice: "I'll see you tomorrow."She raised her gaze, her features soft and yet unrelenting. "I did the math," she said. "So, it would fall on the day before going back to the summit.""You were going to go back?" he asked, his voice catching, as if that little hope she'd just lit had taken him off guard.Her response was immediate, solid and firm. "Of course I am."A heavy silence stretched between them, marked only by the sound of his breathing as he tried to process it all. "You still…?" He looked up, voice barely above a whisper."Yes, Travs," she said, her tone soft. "I still love you. I always have."He looked away, overcome, his throat tight. "But… you don't need me.""I don't love you because I need you," she said, firm and steady. "I love you because I don’t. I love you because I choose you, because I'd choose you every day—even if you keep telling yourself I shouldn't."He stared at her, dumbfounded by the strength and vulnerability in her words. She sounded so solid, so brave, and a part of him couldn't quite believe it was the same woman he'd shared those long, dark red nights in the cellar with. But here she was, right in front of him, no trace of doubt in her expression. No fear. This was the Laura Kearney he met in the forest that night. She breathed deep, reached across the desk, and laid a hand over his. "Travs… you have given me everything I could want. You have given me my freedom, safety, the chance to be something more than a survivor. I need nothing else from you. I just… want you, and I didn't mean to hurt you."His heart thundered in his chest. He didn't know how to respond—words deserted him for the first time in his life. He waited for the voices to return, those venomous, malicious whispers that had plagued him ever since they said goodbye in that summit, gnawing at his peace like rats in the walls. They told him everything he feared most: hissing cruel accusations that he wasn't worth her time, that she had moved on without him, that her love had been born out of circumstance, not truth.Those voices had relentlessly hounded him, stealing into his mind in the dead silence of his house, in the dark hours of loneliness when he was left truly alone with his thoughts. They had latched onto every insecurity and amplified them, leaving him restless, suffocating under the weight of doubt.But now… now there was nothing.They said nothing more. No more poison in his ears, no more insidious doubts pulling at his heart. The mind-numbing fog was gone, dissipated into a vague memory he could not hold onto, no matter how hard he tried.Laura Kearney had silenced them completely.Travis stared at her, incredulous. She seemed so damned resilient, so unbreakable, yet so achingly beyond his grasp. He'd convinced himself all this time that the best way to keep her safe was keeping his distance, she deserved better than anything he could offer. But she had made sure to prove to him that her love wasn’t something he needed to earn—but something that she had already given him. Here she was now, laying it all out there, tearing down the walls he'd spent months building. In a flash, her eyes softened; a shadow of her vulnerability darted across her face as she drew a steadying breath."You…?" Her voice was raw, her question unfinished, shaking with hope and what Travis only could understand as fear.His throat closed over, but he answered, his voice low and level. "They haven't changed." The whisper held emotion, feelings that hadn't change—none at all. All he needed was the air he was breathing to love her, every beat on his heart belonged to her.She smiled then, the relief and warmth of her expression mixing with that fierce spark of hers. "Then, as I see it, we've got two options." She leaned in, just enough for him to feel her closiness, her gaze never leaving his. "We can stick to the plan and go our separate ways for now, meet back at the top of that mountain in a year, just like we promised.”His heart was racing, screaming at him to close the distance, to stop waiting, to stop thinking. She met his gaze with the same fire, but there was something else there too—a question, a pull, daring him to make a choice."Or," she whispered, her lips curving into a soft, teasing smile, "you could kiss me now. We might argue, fall apart—that's just life. But we can always apologize, always find our way back to each other. We can always try again. Not trying at all? That's the only thing we can't fix— that's heartbreaking."Every reason not to do it flooded his mind: here he was her boss, they were on camp, anyone could see, people that knew the background they had together. Not just that, it was against every single rule of the camp. It wasn't right.But Laura read his hesitation, smirking just slightly as she whispered, "Private life's nobody's business, Sheriff." Her gaze held his steady, challenging. "Now, or in a year, I'll be there. I'll be waiting for you on top of that mountain. You think I would've stuck around this long if I wasn't sure? I'm here, Hackett. I'm free. And I'm not going anywhere.”He felt himself falling, as if gravity itself were pulling him toward her with an insistence he couldn't resist. His hand came up to touch her cheek, calloused fingers skimming across skin that seemed as fragile as the finest porcelain—precious, frangible. Yet, he knew better. Laura Kearney was harder than the hardest diamond, her spirit stubborn, unbreakable—no matter what came across her path.He could hardly believe she was there, or what she was saying—the steady conviction in her voice cutting through all his doubts. It felt too good, too surreal, too impossible. And deeper still, a part of him was afraid this was some cruel trick of his own mind. That he maybe cracked open his brother's old mini bar to celebrate his own birthday alone and would wake up in his office in the morning, alone, slumped over the desk with an empty bottle of whiskey by his side.But her hand on his was real—firm, steady, and grounding him as only she could.He allowed himself to linger in the warmth of her touch, her presence. The distance was too much to bear, the pull too strong. He got even closer, moving his hand to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, his heart aching with everything he hadn't let himself say. "I still don't know what kind of future I can give you," he murmured, voice rough.She shook her head, the smile soft but fierce upon her lips. "I don't need you to give me a future. I can get my own future, I just want you there to share it with me. I want your mornings, your nights…all of it, Travis. That's all I need."With that, the last wall broke, crumbling under everything he felt for her. He stood up from his chair, walked around the desk as Laura stood up, and he leaned down, catching her lips in the perfection of a kiss that held within every word he'd kept hidden. Laura wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. That one perfect moment saw the whole world slip away: the camp, the rules, the past. All that mattered was this.Her.The kiss started cautious, tentative as if testing the fragile reality of this moment. At first, Travis barely moved, his lips brushing lightly against hers, with a gentleness that betrayed his incredulity. Her breath against his skin was warm, the touch of her was delicate; for one fleeting second, it felt as though the world itself had fallen away, leaving only the gentle rhythm of their shared, synchronized breaths.Laura pressed a little closer, her lips molding against his in a way that unlocked something deep within him—months of doubt and longing unraveling all at once. He kissed her deeper now, with a slow intensity that was both hesitant and insistent—a man desperately clinging to the one thing he had silently hoped for and feared losing. His hand rose to her face, his fingers tangling lightly in her hair as his thumb rubbed over her cheek. She leaned into him, as unyielding as the touch of her mouth was hot.Her hand moved upward, stroking along the back of his neck, tugging him closer until nothing separated them, her thumb tracing the edge of his jaw in soft, circular strokes that only pulled him further in. There was nothing rushed about their movements—only a certain fervor born of the longtime of longing and restraint.As her fingers found their way to his chest, her touches were light touches but steady, and something inside him melted. There was a low sound deep in his chest, from relief and desire, as her hands teased against the fabric of the shirt, each movement precise but unspoken.Laura leaned in, her kiss inching just a shade bolder; quickened breathing whispered promises against unspoken words on his lips. And the taut thread of her confidence tugged at something in him, this thing that was desperate to tie itself to some mast against which the tide of her threatened to overwhelm and undo him.It was softer now, a starting point toward yielding to something deeper in its roots of missed opportunity and unspoken confession. But even with the raging heartbeat, with each cell alive, there was somewhere deep inside that held him back from throwing his caution to the dogs in this storm called love that was sweeping them towards a haven of redemption.Her body pressed against his, and Travis felt the tension in the pit of his stomach grow. She moved with purpose, her hand tracing the hem of his shirt as though she wanted to cross a line, her urgency there in the need of her touch.The hem of the shirt of his uniform. "Laura," Travis's voice dropped low, a subtle warning slipping into his words as he gently caught her hand, halting her movement. The intensity between them was palpable, but he needed to pause, to pull back. His thumb traced along the back of her hand, grounding himself in that small touch. "I want this—I want you. But not here. Not now."Her expression softened, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion. "Why not?" she asked, her voice still gentle, but there was a bite of determination behind it. "What's stopping you?"He let out a slow breath, his eyes fluttering to their joined hands before returning to hers. "Because it's not appropriate. We're on camp. I'm your boss. You and I—this—" He shook his head, his tone thickening with frustration and guilt. "It's inappropriate. Not here."She expelled a breath, the corners of her lips curling in the faintest of smiles. "You and your damn rules, Sheriff," she teased, the playfulness in her tone belying the depth of what she wanted to say."It's not just about the rules," he said firmly, but his voice softened as he looked at her. "It's about respect. You deserve more than this. More than sneaking around behind closed doors like some camp kids breaking curfew."She blinked, her teasing smirk faltering just a little. "You think this is just about sneaking around?""No," he said quickly, shaking his head. "It's not that. It's—it's about doing this right. I don't want it to feel like a mistake, or worse, like I'm taking advantage of you because of my position."She didn't pull away; instead, she took another step closer to him, the other hand on his chest as if grounding him. "Travis, you've never taken advantage of me. Not when I was in that cell, not when I was broken in the hospital, and definitely not now." Her voice was steady, clear, with quiet conviction. "You've always treated me with respect, and I get it—you're worried about what people will think."He nodded, shoulders sagging with the weight of his concern. "People will talk, yes. I'm twice your age. And no matter how you slice it, they'll see this—us—and think I manipulated you, or that I took advantage of your—""Then let them talk," she said, her hands tightening around his, her voice firm. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. I care about you. About us. But if you need time, if you need things to feel… right, then I'll wait. I just need you to tell me how we make this right."He hesitated, it would seem a thousand thoughts racing in his mind, each one battling against the next. Finally, he spoke, the words in low tone, almost reluctance. "I want to take you out," he said, his words quiet but steady. "I want to do this right for you. Dinner, flowers, maybe even watch a movie—something real. Normal. Not… this." He gestured to the office around them, his ears flushing with the weight of his own awkwardness. "I don’t want this to be some rushed, stolen moment. You’re too important to me for that.”She raised an eyebrow, a hint of teasing still in her gaze. “You want to take me out? Like an actual date?”Travis's face colored even further, and he nodded stiffly, unable to meet her gaze. "Affirmative."For a long moment, Laura said nothing. Then she let out a snort, turning it quickly into a stifled laugh. "You know we've already done the whole 'survive a basement, locked in a cage, death's door' thing, right? You don't have to wine and dine me."He let out an exasperated huff, rubbing a hand over his face. The teasing faded from her expression, replaced with something softer. Her hand settled over his again, the touch light but insistent. "Travis," she said again, her voice quieter now, "that's sweet. Ridiculously sweet." She leaned in, brushing her lips against his jaw. "But you don't have to prove anything to me. I already know how you feel."He shook his head. "It's not about proving anything. It's about doing it right. You're not some transient thing in my life, Laura. You're it." His voice was steady now; every word was cautious and measured. "And I want to make sure you know that."She felt her breath catch in her throat. The depth of what he was saying, the weight of his words—it hit her harder than she'd expected. "Travis," she whispered, looking up at him, her heart jolting in her chest.He smiled faintly, the tension in his chest easing just a little. "So, what do you say?" he asked softly, his voice almost shy. "Let me take you out. Somewhere nice. No camp rules. No kids watching us, responsibilities... Just us. Then I won't have to feel like I'm taking advantage of you. I don't want to do this at camp."She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, a small, genuine smile curling her lips. “You really are old-fashioned, huh?”“Guess so," he said with a shrug. "You’re the one wanting to date a fifty-year-old man, kid. Is that so bad?"She leaned into him, placing her forehead against his, and in that instant, it was as though everything else melted away. "No," she said, her voice low, barely above a whisper. "It's not bad. It's you. And I wouldn't change that for anything."Her voice turned playful then as she leaned back slightly, her eyes sparkling with a tease. "But you'd better not skimp on the flowers."A silent laugh rumbled through his chest as the weight of it all began to lighten. "I wouldn't dream of it."The air between them became thick with silent understanding. But Laura, who for the first time felt that she had him, wanted more. She lifted her hand to brush his cheek softly, to move his face toward hers. His brown eyes, warm and uncertain, stared back at her—big puppy eyes filled with self-doubt, with thoughts of unworthiness that she'd sworn to erase from his mind. She could see his wariness, the fear lurking behind those eyes, the painful thought that one of them might back away, leaving the other to pick up the shattered pieces of their hearts.She knew that fear intimately. It was the weight of his rank that burdened him—his inflexible moral compass—that made him question each and every move. The permanent fear that his position—his authority—could hurt her, even when unintentional.That was Travis Hackett in a nutshell: calm and measured, quiet resolve that let him carry the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help. That unyielding kindness that kept him from ever thinking he deserved any of the love or comfort he gave out so freely. It wasn't about obligation; it was him. The man who'd suffer in silence before risking hurting another, a protector to his core, even when it meant tearing himself apart inside.She wouldn't let that happen again. She wouldn't let Travis keep hurting himself. Not him. Not her. Not their feelings. She would be patient. For him, she could be. For him, she would do what she'd never done before—hold back, rein in her impulsive nature, and go slow. She'd fight for him, for that man she knew he was, even when he couldn't see it for himself. If it meant tearing down every self-imposed wall, every doubt he held onto, she would do it.She could wait for him, she realized, go slow because he was worth it. He deserved a love that wasn't hurried, a love that would demand nothing of him except to breathe, to feel safe, to trust. And she'd give him that kind of love—patient, unyielding, and real.But for now, at this moment, she wanted him. She wanted this, and she needed it. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone, sending a wave of warmth through her, as she leaned in once more. This time, her kiss was softer, slower, tender with all the feelings she had but didn't know enough words to tell. Deliberate with every motion, steeped in her love, her promise, her trust—everything she couldn’t say with words but hoped he could feel. When they finally drew back, it was with reluctance. They breathed together in unison as the heat between them began to settle. Laura smiled softly, the mischievous glint back in her eyes as she turned her head up to look at him. Her fingers stayed on his shoulder, a grounding touch that steadied him.Travis let out a breath that could have been a laugh or a sigh, his hand raising to settle over hers. His touch was firm, steady, but she felt the way his fingers trembled slightly against her skin.“I’m still figuring this out,” he murmured, his voice low, edged with vulnerability.Laura smiled, her face alight with affection and determination, but there was tenderness behind it that softened the sharp edges of her usual confidence. She took a small step back, the lingering of her hand on Travis's shoulder grounding them both in the moment."Hey," she began, quieter than usual, almost tentative—a rare thing for her—"can I—stay over? Just for tonight?""I—" He blinked; the surprise on his face betrayed the whirlwind of thoughts rushing through his head. Her steady gaze held him in place, and the resolve in her expression made it impossible to look away. "That's—""Like last time at your place," she cut in, a small, disarming smile tugging at her lips. "Clothes stay on. Promise. I just don't want to leave just yet."Travis raised an eyebrow, an unbidden chuckle escaping as he shook his head. "You just want to talk?""And snuggle," she added, the playfulness in her tone softened by something rawer. Her hand shifted to trace lazy circles against his back, her eyes glinting with that unmistakable spark of sincerity. "It's been a while. And, God, I missed you so much. I just want… I don't know, to make up for a little of the time we lost. Hear your voice, listen to you. And maybe," her smile turned teasing, "steal one of your pajama shirts. It'll be a crime against fashion, but I'm willing to risk it."He let out a sharp exhale, caught somewhere between amusement and tenderness. His thumb brushed over her knuckles, and he found himself memorizing how she looked at him—so unapologetically herself, so unabashed in the manner she wanted to be close to him."You're something else, you know that?" he said low and husky, a burr of affection and a tint of disbelief."Something good, I hope?" she teased.The corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a little, tired smile. "Yeah. Something really good." He blew out a long breath, nodding. "Alright. But only if you promise to let me get a word in here and there. I've got a couple of stories too, you know."Her grin broadened, eyes glinting warm. "Scout's honor, Sheriff. And maybe you can tell me about camp, what it's been like. The good, the bad… Bobby, too. I want to know everything."Without another word, he led her to the door to his room. A quiet peace settled over them as they walked in, the lived-in space simple and orderly—the kind of room that reflected Travis to perfection. Laura kicked off her shoes with a contented sigh and flopped onto the bed, watching him dig through a drawer until he found her a clean change of clothes."For you," he said, handing it over.She smiled—quietly, but a real smile—and disappeared into the bathroom, giving him his own time to change into his own pajamas. When she emerged, the shirt was hanging off her frame, its sleeves threatening to swallow her hands whole, her blonde hair mussed. She looked up at him, catching his gaze before bouncing onto the bed with an easy grin.“Come on,” she said, patting the space beside her. Her smile was brighter than before, but there was a softness in her eyes that knocked the breath out of him.“Would anyone notice you’re gone?” he asked, his nerves evident in the way his brow furrowed.She shrugged lightly, her grin turning into a sly smirk. “I’m usually the first one up for a run. Trust me, it’ll be fine.”He said nothing, hesitating."Please." She raised her hand toward him, a silent supplication in the gesture. "Just tonight."He stared at her outstretched hand, obviously hesitant, but after a beat, he finally reached for it. Her fingers closed around his as she pulled him down beside her; moving light, unhurried. The bed creaked softly beneath them, a sound that seemed to reverberate through the quiet room as they burrowed together under the thin blanket.Laura moved in closer, her head tucked into his shoulder, her arm falling across his chest. Her warmth infused into him, dissolving the lingering tension in his chest, and for a moment, Travis let himself exhale.Her voice came soft and curious: "Tell me about this place. How's it been since you re-opened? Did anyone try to sneak into the basement looking for a horror tour?"The corner of his mouth twitched upward in a small chuckle, and the low rumble of it sent a flicker of warmth to her cheeks. "No one's gone for the basement yet. But the old Hackett house? That's another story altogether. Couple of campers, some idiot tourists… even had a staff member or two think they'd make it a field trip."She stifled a laugh, burying her face into his shoulder. "You mean you chased them off yourself, didn't you? Mr. Gruff Sheriff with his 'don't even think about it' face?""I warned them, didn't even have to raise my voice," he replied, his tone mock-stern. He shook his head, letting the hint of humor lighten his own features. "Ghost stories are plenty effective to keep most people in line."Laura tipped her face up to grin at him, the teasing in her sparkling eyes. "Bet the ghost stories don't mention the terrifying head ranger with the heart of a marshmallow, huh?"He huffed, but the warmth of her teasing softened his expression. "No, and let's keep it that way," he muttered.From there, the conversation flowed, the room filling with laughter and light jabs as she drew him into stories about the camp. He spoke about the endless responsibilities—morning walks to check the trails, strange middle-of-the-night calls, and campers testing boundaries he hadn't known existed. Laura's questions were playful, curious, her laughter rich and warm as she peppered him with mock criticism.With every word spoken, the words would fall into ease as if nobody knew but themselves—comforting rhythms of old friends reunited. Between these, there were moments of quiet touches: Travis leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead, Laura sliding her lips along the line of his jaw—light as a whisper. Every gesture was unsaid but resplendent, reminding them both why they'd fought so hard to come back to each other.The night wore on until their words fell away, leaving only the soft symphony of their breathing. Laura was curled against him him, her leg brushing his, her hand softly resting on his chest as his arm came around her shoulders. His fingers absently stroked her arm, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear filled her with peace.Her voice came out hushed and slurred with sleepiness. "Will you wake me up in the morning?"Travis tilted his head down slightly to catch her eye and brushed a kiss across her temple. "Of course.""And when you do…" She paused, nuzzling against him as a faint smile curled her lips. "Can I kiss you goodbye before I leave?"His breath caught for one second on the sweetness of the request, and warmth spread through his chest as a soft smile twisted his face. "You can," he promised, his voice coarse but firm.Time stretched out, the peace between them so tangible it felt like a warm cocoon shielding them from everything outside. Laura's fingertips idly traced patterns over the fabric of his shirt, little loops and swirls that sent subtle shivers through him, though he stayed still, unwilling to disturb the tranquility.But then she shifted, her body sliding ever so slightly against his. Before he could quite register what she was doing, she swung a leg over his hips, settling herself down on his lap. Her weight was light but grounding, her body pressed flush against his in a way that drew his breath up short."Laura—" he started, the syllable catching in his throat, where alarm and something wholly different flared to life in his chest, but she silenced him with her lips.Her hands framed his face, thumbs brushing with soft strokes along his roughened cheeks, a touch which melted his half-formed protest before he could let them out. Her hair fell forward, a tumble of gold that enveloped them away from the world, as if they were all what existed in this reality. Her lips met his with a softness that sent warmth flooding through his entire body, unhurried, without resistance, deliberate, gentle, coaxing him into the depth of her affection.Her eyes flicked open to meet his, the blue of them stormy yet focused; it was a gaze that cut through all his shields and laid him bare under her touch. And then, when she leaned even closer to his lips, the brushing of her hair against the line of his jaw seemed to make her a surreal force—too real, too intimate.She was dangerous to Travis, more than anything he'd ever faced in his life. Deadlier than the hunt, more unpredictable than the creatures prowling under the full moon. Laura Kearney wasn't a wolf, neither a supernatural curse; she was something far more terrifying.She was real, warm and present on his bed. On the deepest thoughts of his mind.Her kiss deepened, full of unsaid words and impossible emotions. Travis could not stop his hands from going to her waist, his fingers wrapping around her lightly yet firmly. His heart was hammering in some kind of relentless rhythm that was fast and sharp, almost like a drumbeat, urging him toward some edge he could not see, and then her mouth pressed against his once more, he could feel the faintest stirrings low in his belly, something undeniable, visceral, that turned his nerves to fire."Laura—" he managed again, his voice far weaker than he intended.Her lips curved into a soft smile against his, as if the struggle he sensed behind his words touched something deep in her. She leaned farther in, her arms crossing over his head, pulling him close and cradling him protectively against her like he was a treasure. She pressed a second kiss to his lips, drawing it out, slow and sure, her hands carding through the silver of his hair.She was gorgeous and overwhelming, the most dangerously beautiful thing he'd ever encountered, and when he realized just how close they were, her warmth pressing into him, it lit something deep and inescapable. Travis could feel the unmistakable evidence of it stirring between them—a reaction he didn't want but couldn't help.A flush rose up his neck, racing hot to his ears and cheeks, but he kept his hands steady on her waist. This had to stop, he thought, but the words felt foreign, ridiculous even. She wasn't asking for anything from him, nothing he couldn't give freely, but the pull—the need that simmered just under the surface—terrified him."Alright, kid," he said finally, breaking the kiss with a small laugh that was just this side of breathless. His voice shook as he gently nudged her, his hand sliding up her arm. "Move off before I lose my head here."Laura leaned back an inch or so, a teasing quirk already spreading across her mouth as she looked at him—the weight of all that love still there in her eyes. Her fingers stayed at his jaw, her nose nuzzling his once, teasingly, before she started moving slowly off his lap, with a triumphant grin."Let's get some sleep, yeah?" he added softly, his tone gentler now, though his ears were burning red enough to betray just how affected he'd been by her closeness. They were so unmistakably red that Laura could have been triggered just by staring at them no long ago. Laura gave him one last look, her smirk dissolving into something far softer as she settled beside him again, tucking herself under his arm. "Alright, Sheriff," she murmured with a warmth that carried through her voice, "but this isn't over."Travis's sigh was strained with two concurrent and contradictory urges, desire and release; he muttered an incoherent; "Yeah, thought so," while his mouth kicked into a faint unwilling smile as she buried her head against his neck.Laura smirked, clearly satisfied with the effect she’d had on him. “You’re no fun, Sheriff,” she teased lightly, but the look she gave him as they settled under the covers held nothing but affection.And then, finally, with sleep stealing over, their even breathing synchronized such that the room quieted down with a soothing sound around them, warm and comforting as was the blanket draped over the two.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Travis was the first to wake up, soft morning light casting a warm glow over the room. Laura lay beside him, her hair splayed across the pillow, her breathing even, her face relaxed with a soft even breathing. Lying there, he watched her, the quiet contentment of her presence washing over him. But as he studied her face, an ache stirred. This was real—she was real—here, and he could hardly believe it.Then the impulse struck, raw and aching, and he needed to kiss her. He'd held back for so long, and now that it finally occurred to him that he could lean in and press his lips to hers freely, without hesitation, it almost overwhelmed him. He brushed a few strands of hair off her face; his fingertips lingered against the soft skin as he leaned down to kiss her gently.Laura stirred, his lips brushing hers, and a sleepy smile formed as her eyes fluttered open. She returned his kiss, deepening it as her arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer with a soft, content sigh. Her fingers traced gentle patterns across his shoulders, the now-familiar warmth blooming between them, making her want more.Travis broke the kiss, finally, after a long unhurried moment. She pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his nose as he gave her a tender smile."Time to get up," he said, half-reluctantly. "You might want to sneak back before anyone realizes you're gone."An eyebrow winged up; her grin was sly with that lascivious spark he'd grown too accustomed to seeing. "Look at you, Sheriff, breaking the rules," she purred. The confidence was palpable, catching him off balance. She was like a hurricane. "Don't even start," he growled, turning away and rising from the bed quickly, a faint red tinge spreading across his ears. "There's a summer camp to run.""You sure you want to leave so early?" Laura's teasing voice cut through the silence; her eyes flashed as she glanced up at him.Travis's face colored, and he cleared his throat. "Some of us—actually have work to do around here," he muttered, but the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips.She laughed softly and got up from bed, picking up her clothes from last night from the corner where she folded them. "Feel free to use the shower here if you like.""Only if you join me," she teased, one brow up."Not today." He deadpanned, and looked at the clock. "And make it quick—people will be getting up soon."She gave him a mock pout but disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later, fresh-faced and smelling of his soap, which she wore with a sense of ownership. The instant Laura stepped into the room, her eyes went to the nightstand on Travis' side, and she stilled. There it was—the picture of them together, the one she'd taken at dawn on the mountain. The early morning light had framed them both in peaceful, almost shy smiles, her head against his shoulder, behind them a sky painted in hues of sunrise.A glow crept into her chest as she took in the details. She hadn't realized he'd kept it here, in such a personal spot. She reached out and trailed her fingers over the frame as the faintest tremble overtook her hand. It was weird; to actually see the picture, it made these past months waiting—waiting to see if this was even real—feel tangible. Everything she'd wanted to say, these months spent second-guessing herself, was all there, bound in that one quiet moment.Travis stepped into her from behind, noticing that she was staring at it. "Didn't want anyone else to see it on the desk," he murmured, almost bashfully. Laura's smile grew as she glanced over her shoulder at him, eyes soft. "I didn't realize. it meant this much to you," she whispered, her voice tinged with something between surprise and quiet gratitude.Travis met her gaze, his eyes warm but earnest. "More than you know.”She caressed the frame one last time before turning around, and, with a light touch on his cheek, kissed him goodbye. With a quick, whispered promise to see him that afternoon, she slipped away from his room and his office.After showering and getting dressed into his uniform, Travis finally walked into his office. The room felt awkwardly emptier than usual, as if she'd left something of herself behind, still hanging in the air and on the walls in the stillness. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his face, attempting to refocus.His gaze fell upon his desk, where her phone lay, but the journal she had shown him was conspicuously absent. The faintest hint of relief swept over him—at least one rule had been kept intact.Then his gaze alighted on something else. Beside the phone, it was neatly wrapped in a colorful wrapping paper—the gift from her, for his birthday. For a few moments, he stared at it, as if to open it were to tie him more certainly to all that he had been trying to process.In the end, curiosity and something more propelled him on. He sat down, showed a little hesitation, and he peeled back the wrappings to show him a hard-backed book. Immediately, the title rang a bell. One of the many they had talked about, hour after hour in the cell discussing everything from favorite novels to survival guides.A small smile tugged at his lips as he ran his hand over the cover. It was thoughtful—intensely thoughtful. His fingers ghosted over the inscription inside the front cover, her handwriting unmistakable:
"To the man who made me believe in happy endings, even when they seemed impossible. - L."
His throat tightened as he read the words. He closed the book gently, laying it across his desk, his hand lingering a moment over its cover. She had a way of cutting through all his defenses with the simplest of gestures, reminding him how much she saw him—really saw him—in ways no one else ever had.He shook his head, a rueful smile playing at his lips. Even when she wasn't there, she had a way of getting under his skin—of leaving him thinking about her far more than he should.Meanwhile, Laura slipped back into their designated cabin and barely avoided the suspicious stares of the other counselors. Heather raised an eyebrow as Laura stepped inside; a smugly curious look on her face."Where have you been?" Heather asked, but her expression gave away without a doubt the fact that she was fishing for information.Laura shrugged, kicking her bag beside her bunk as she reached for a change of clothes. "Woke up early. Went for a walk," she said, her tone light and breezy. She knew she missed her run, but at this very moment, that was the last thing that was going to bother her. It was, in any case, too late in the morning for that. Besides, she just saw Travis, so at that moment, she was happy.Heather released a disbelieving scoff but let it be and merely muttered under her breath, "Sure, morning walk." She said before leaving the cabin to go get breakfast, her suspicious gaze still remaining on Laura for extra few seconds before stepping out.As Heather left, Nuria appeared with wet hair from the shower, her face filled with curiosity and concern. She approached Laura. "Where have you been?" she asked, her voice soft but worried, like she'd been waiting all morning to ask.Laura rolled her eyes, but a playful smile tugged on her lips. "What, are you guys writing my biography? Seriously, I just went for a walk. Chill."But Nuria's gaze didn't falter. She looked at Laura with that penetrating expression, like she could see right through her friend's casual act. "You didn't spend the night here," she said, firm yet soft. “You’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Remember you told me where you got the top from?”Laura faltered for a second and then took a deep breath, weighing just how much information she wanted to give. She saw the worry in Nuria's eyes; her friend genuinely cared, and she was the last one Laura wanted to worry. She was also aware that, like Travis, Nuria could have gotten the wrong impression and assumed Jack was involved after they had spent so much time together.She finally took a deep breath, deciding for the truth. "Okay, fine," she said, her voice softening, looking down. "I… spent the night with someone."She was surprised when Nuria's eyes went wide; an almost heartbroken expression crossed her face, like she was about to burst into tears any minute.Laura felt a pang of guilt and quickly moved closer, laying an assuring hand on her friend's arm. "Hey, no—don't look like that; it's not any of the other counselors…" she sighed. "Do you remember when we first met, and you saw me messaging and visiting someone on the weekends? That that was why I didn’t want to meet on the weekends to go to study?"Recognition fluttered in Nuri's expression, and her brow creased. "The guy who was uncertain about the whole thing and wanted you two to spend some time apart? That… red flag guy?" she asked, almost bewildered. She'd given Laura enough advice on how relationships with guys who needed 'space' usually ended, as they did in the case of her experience: a half-hearted excuse not to commit.Laura let out a low laugh at the display of her friend's loyalty, but she knew Travis was different from other guys, as well as the circumstances. "Yeah. Red flag guy, he is here."Nuria's mouth fell open, and she almost dropped the pajamas she was holding. Her hand went over her mouth in a gasp of surprise; her eyes lit up with disbelief. "Wait—he's here?" She looked quite undecided on how he felt: outraged, thrilled, or gobsmacked.Laura burst out laughing at her friend's reaction unfolding before her eyes. "Yeah. He's—here." Her voice came out softer, almost reverent at just the thought of him. Just thinking about him quickened her heartbeat. “And we kind of reached an understatement.”"Oh my god," Nuria whispered, practically vibrating with excitement as she tossed her pajamas onto her bed and turned back to Laura. "Are you going to tell me who he is?”Laura bit her lip; the nerves kicked in now. This part of her life she had kept so well-hidden, saying it aloud felt monumental—like finally acknowledging a truth she had kept to herself all along. Nuria noticed her hesitation and immediately held up her hands."Or not! I mean, of course it's none of my business. I shouldn't know," she said hastily, the rise of her voice quivering between curiosity and respect. "I just… want to support you, you know? In case any of the counselors catch you sneaking around after curfew or something, it's probably against the rules, and Mr. T is already losing his hair over all the ghost stories around the campfire to have counselors disappearing at night. Last thing I want is for you to get the blame for the pranks."Laura took a deep breath, centering, before finally speaking. "You know about the trial, right? About what happened to me last year. Even if we haven't talked much about it? Even from the news." She watched her friend nod, understanding flickering in her gaze. "Well… you know I was stuck with Travis for the longest.”"Yeah, the whole family thing—Wait,” Nuria's eyes went wide as, finally, the pieces clicked into place. She stared at Laura in a state of shock. “Last night… with Travis? As Mr. T. Mr. Travis Hackett; The camp leader? I thought that you two guys were just friends!" Her voice was almost a squeal of disbelief, though there was something like excitement laced there too. She gave a wide, incredulous grin, clutching her hands together as if holding back a fit of laughter. "Laura, oh my god—you're fucking the camp leader!”Laura burst out laughing, bringing a finger to her lips to shush Nuri. "Shh! Nothing like that, we just catched up! There was nothing like that!" she whispered, still laughing. "I'm telling you this in strict confidence!"But Nuria would have none of it. She grinned wickedly, barely able to keep herself together. "Oh, come on! This is legendary. You're ticking off every single 'forbidden romance at summer camp' box! This is counselor gold. Give me a high five!”"You're such a bitch," Laura replied, shaking her head as she fought not to burst into giggles again.Nuria leaned in, eyes shining with mischief. "So… are you going to give me any details?"Laura straightened up, grasping her change of clothes with a smirk and heading toward the door. "Not a chance. The rest stays between me and Mr. Hot Camp Leader."Nuri chased her to the door frame, both of them grinning from ear to ear with laughter that reached down the stairs.That afternoon, Laura softly knocked on Travis's office door. With a tired look, he opened it, but at the sight of her, instantly softened. Her face shone with a warm smile as she walked inside. The cordiality remained in her posture; the bag slung over one shoulder."Hey," she whispered, her hands gliding up his chest to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him into a warm embrace. She leaned in and brushed her lips against his in a kiss promising to leach away the tension of the day. Travis wrapped his arms around her, needing that heat after the day he'd had. Just as he began to relax into her touch, the phone rang again, yanking him back to reality.He let out a frustrated groan, mumbling an apology as he stepped over to answer it. Laura stayed close, watching him with curious, concerned eyes. Travis picked up the receiver, and the sound of static filled the line. He closed his eyes, holding back a frustrated sigh, then hung up a bit harder than he meant to.Laura's eyebrows furrowed as her hand reached out, catching his arm in a quiet reassurance. "Everything okay?"Travis sank down into the chair behind his desk—running his hands over his face. "I've had six calls today—no, seven now," he muttered, his weariness weighing heavily in his voice. "Five of them have been prank calls.""Prank calls?" she echoed, stepping closer to his side and resting her hand on his shoulder."Affirmative." He sucked in a deep breath, looking away as he fought to keep his anger in check. "Somebody's been calling and just breathing into the phone, like it was some kind of game. They won't say a damn word. It's obnoxious, but that's not the worst part.""What's worse than a prankster harassing you?" she asked, her tone soft, but her gaze piercingly sharp.He rubbed his temples, the annoyance in his eyes deepening. "The parents. The kids here are scared, Laura. Some of them say someone's been knocking on their cabin doors at night, or that they've seen someone watching them from the woods. A few even claim they've been chased near the bathrooms." He leaned back, crossing his arms as a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "I tried to do thorough background checks. I thought I'd hired responsible adults, but now. It's just like I missed something. I do patrols every day and every night and I found nothing. I see nothing, I hear nothing and here I have a bunch of kids terrified in their beds.”Her heart ached at the sight of tension in his shoulders, frustration and worry pooling in his dark eyes. She reached out, gently angling his chin so his gaze met hers, then pressed soft, reassuring lips to his temple. Her fingers traced lightly over the roughness of his cheek, anchoring him. "I'll keep an eye out too, all right?" she murmured. "You don't have to carry this by yourself.”He shook his head, his voice low and resigned. "It is part of my job. I'm the camp leader here. I should be in charge and make sure everything is running okay. If something goes wrong, it is on me.”"Yeah, well, you hired the rest of us to help you," she returned stubbornly, her gaze hard on his. "Whoever's doing this? We'll catch them, and they'll be out of here faster than they can blink. You're not alone in this, love."A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and he leaned forward, laying his forehead against her belly. Her presence, the sound of her voice—it centered him, made him feel he didn't have to hold everything together all the time.She smiled softly, her fingers caressing his hair. "Hey, what would you say to taking a day off? Let's go to town, just us. You promised me a date and all."He raised an eyebrow, probably disinclined and tempted at the same time. "Laura, it would be so obvious. I don't have a good excuse to leave the camp."She smiled, an impish sparkle in her eye. "Of course you do. Just tell them I need something from town, and that you're tagging along to see to it that I get back here unscathed. You are the one in charge of everyone's safety, after all." Her hand painted a soft line over his forearm, sending shivers down his spine. "Besides, should anyone ask, you likely have a reason to swing by your place. Pick up a few things, maybe—?”He faltered, his lips tugging at the corner into a smile. Oh, the lure of slipping off to spend a day with her—just one day, and without interruptions or concealing. Really tempting.She knew he was weakening and pressed her advantage. "Come on, it's one day. We'd be back by evening, and it would just be our time together." She softened, looking into his eyes. "One day together away from here. Maybe even go to Tommy's. And hey—this way we aren't breaking all your rules.""We'd still be breaking at least three rules," he said, but his voice had a hint of a smile within it.She playfully rolled her eyes. "One day won't hurt anyone. We'll just blend in with the rest of the town." She laughed softly. "And after camp ends, I'll be back on weekends like before. No one will care then."His smile grew, but there was something else in his eyes too—a quiet longing, as if the thought of a future with her, a future in which they didn't have to hide meant more to him than he could admit. "Alright," he murmured, nodding slowly. “But not now, I’ll schedule a day for next week or so, as of now it wouldn’t look very good on me if I leave the camp. I need this to calm down a bit before I can make an excuse.”“Deal.” She leaned into him, lowering her voice as she squeezed his hand. "I really should get back to the cabin. Pretty sure Heather's keeping an eye on me, making sure I actually sleep there tonight."Travis gave her a concerned look. "Did somebody notice you weren't there last night?”"Yeah," she said guiltily. "I don't think that I can stay here at night without some of them catching up and… I don't want to make it harder on you. Or make them think I have nothing to do with what’s going on. I had to tell Nuri, though.”Travis opened his mouth, about to complain but she raised a hand to calm him.“I trust her, she is a good friend.”He looked at her eyes, really glared at them, before nodding. His hand tightened around hers involuntarily, not wanting her to go. "I'll see you in the morning, then?""You bet." She smiled, the excitement lighting up her face. "I've already told Jack I'm running solo, but Nuri always likes her breakfast right around 8:15—after a shower, of course," she said with a wink. "I'll show you a good spot tomorrow."“A good spot for what?" he asked, trying to keep up with her playful energy, but she was already at the door. With a most mischievous grin, she blew him a kiss, then disappeared into the hall before he could get an answer. The ringing of the phone cut through the early morning calm, yanking Travis awake with a groan. He was still in his pajama, but still he shuffled into the office to answer it. All he was met with was the scratchy hum of static. Frustrated, he hung up, irritation simmering. ‘Who keeps calling this early just to waste my time?’ The nagging suspicion that this was on purpose—somebody with his office number but well out of reach—would not leave his mind. Or perhaps it was from some applicant that he rejected, or one of those paranormal thrill-seekers that had been plaguing him since the news blew out of proportion.Travis showered quickly to try and take the growing ache out of his head, then dressed in his summer camp uniform and headed downstairs. The sun had just started peeking over the treetops as he passed the kitchen staff bustling to get breakfast ready. He gave them a nod in greeting and poured himself a cup of coffee. The bitterness began to clear his mind as it hit his stomach, taking some of the tension that had set between his temples.Travis stepped out for his morning walk, the pine and earthy scent of the forest greeting him like an old friend. These quiet moments before the day got started were his happy place. The soft crunch of dirt and leaves under his boots was steady, solid, a cadence that matched the slow beat of his brain.But today felt off.The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a whispery voice whispered through the silence.
“Mur—”
He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath caught. The word had come from his left, soft but clear, carried on the wind like a whispered secret too fragile to be spoken. His heart rate picked up as he turned towards the sound, his eyes squinting as he scanned the trees. “Laura?” he whispered, barely louder than the leaves.The forest replied in its own language—the snap of a stick, the whisper of branches against each other, the soft rustle of movement in the underbrush.Travis’s heart thudded harder, hope and wariness mixing together. He tried to see through the leaves, his boots crunching softly as he took a step forward. “Somebody there?” he asked again, louder this time, his voice laced with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.The sound came again, closer now. He caught the faintest whisper, human but indistinct. The morning sun filtered through the trees, but the shadows between them felt deeper, darker than usual.“Hello?” he said again, his voice firm but even. He moved towards the sound, step by step. His brain was racing, torn between logical explanations and the whisper of something else—a ghost of Hackett’s Quarry, a memory made flesh."Hello?" he called again, his voice whisked away with ambiguity."Who are you talking with?”Travis whipped around, startled to find Laura standing a few feet away from him, red-faced from running that morning. She panted, hands settled on her hips, her brow furrowed in worry.He forced a slight smile but his eyes betrayed him, darting once again out across the trees. "I thought I heard someone calling," he said, far more unsettled than he cared to admit.Laura followed his line of sight, her own brow furrowing. "Maybe it's some of the kids messing around," she said. "Want me to go check it out?" She began to jog past him, but an instinctive alarm flared in his mind. Reaching out, he caught her arm, gently pulling her back."No, don't." He cleared his throat, the merest hint of an edge in his voice. "It's probably nothing. I'm just— edgy. Woke up to one of those prank calls again." He turned to her, took some comfort in her presence.She frowned. “You haven’t mentioned this to anybody in the camp, haven't you? If I didn’t catch you yesterday in the middle of one you wouldn’t have said anything,” she pointed out. “For how long has this happened?”“I can’t pinpoint it. It might have started even before the camp but there were so many calls for the staff and camp preparation I would have thought it was just bad reception. Now, though, it's becoming more noticeable.”“Why don't you just disconnect it?” she asked, crossing her arms in a thinking way. “It’s the only phone that works in the whole area, parents would freak out if they can’t reach the camp,” he shook his head. “I think I just need some distraction.”Laura moved closer, her mischievous smile diffusing the tension. "Luckily for you," she whispered, glancing around, "I know precisely how to remedy that." “I didn’t mean it like that,” Travis complained. She laughed as she grabbed his hand, pulling him farther down the trail, her fingers warm against his as she led him through the trees.They stopped at a quiet area sunlight dappling through the branches overhead. Laura turned around and caressed his shoulders, looking at his brown expecting eyes. They stood in the dappled sunlight, the quiet of the morning wrapping around them like a soft cocoon. The forest was alive with subtle sounds — the rustle of leaves, the chirp of distant birds — but in this moment, all Travis could hear was the gentle cadence of Laura's breath, the rustle of her movements as she stood so close to him.Her eyes held his, unblinking, her smile a curve of playfulness and affection. She laid light hands on his chest, her touch grounding him, as though she could steady the storm in his thoughts he never quite managed to quiet on his own."Hey," she whispered, her voice low but unyielding as she leaned up to kiss him.The first touch of her lips to his was light, almost tentative, but it stole his breath. Her warmth seeped into him, and without thinking, he leaned down, pressing into the kiss, letting it deepen. There was nothing rushed in it, nothing hurried—it was deliberate, savoring every second, every unspoken promise passing between them."Laura," he murmured, his voice catching as she pulled back slightly, her eyes meeting his."What?" she asked innocently, though the mischievous glint in her gaze betrayed her. "I'm just… enjoying myself."A slow smile crept across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. "You're a minx, you know that?""Mm-hm," she hummed, her fingers tracing soft patterns over his shoulders. "But I'm your minx."His smile broadened, and he let himself chuckle. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, pulling her close, his lips brushing against her temple in a light, lingering kiss before trailing down to her forehead.But then, when she was in his arms, the weight upon his shoulders was lighter, and the constant churn of his thoughts was stilled. She had this way of anchoring him, of pulling him out of his head and into the present. For once, he didn't feel like the weary sheriff or the man haunted by regrets — he was just Travis, standing in the sun with her.And when her lips found his again — softly this time but no less sure — he simply fell into the moment, the lingering shadows chased out of him by the warmth of her kisses seeping into his chest, settling in the bones. His hands drifted up to her face and gently cupped her cheeks, brushing against skin as if committing every inch to memory.The kiss continued until they finally pulled back, their foreheads resting together, the cool morning air entwining their breaths. Laura's lips curved into a lazy, satisfied smile, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief."See?" she whispered. "The world didn't end."His chuckle was soft as he kept his hands framing her face. "No, but sometimes you make me forget it even exists."She smiled at that, leaning back far enough to look at him fully, her hands resting on his chest. "Well, you deserve that, Sheriff."They lingered like that, the world around them fading into a gentle blur. For once, there was no rush, no looming responsibility, just the quiet understanding that this — they — felt right.After a series of long pauses, Laura placed one final teasing peck on his cheek and drew away, turning with an almost playful spring in her step. She threw a look back over her shoulder at him, the grin wide in her face."Come on," she called—the humor threading her voice— "you don't want to be late for work, do you?"Travis stood there for a second, watching her walk ahead with a lighter heart. "Not if it means catching up to you," he whispered low, a gentle tug of a smile greasing his lips. He watched her disappear down the trail, her sure step giving lightness to an otherwise chaotic morning. For a moment, he stood there, catching his breath and composing himself. Of one thing, he was quite certain; she was trouble—absolute—and he was in way over his head to care about how much.The wink—that smirk of hers—continued to dance on his mind by the time he followed her back to the camp. Laughter and clanging breakfast plates filled the dining hall as Travis made it into the lodge, drawn toward the buzz of activity, his second coffee cup warm in his hands as he was leaning against the wall, observing.Sam was one of the campers, a young ginger kid, with a curious face full of freckles. He was sitting between his friends and playing with his oatmeal. Every now and then his eyes flickered toward the windows or slid warily around the room as though he expected to see something—or someone—standing there. Travis gut tightened at the sight, a warning alert resounding on his head. Was any kid missing? What was he looking for?Laura entered the hall, her hair still damp from her shower, a glow about her that Travis couldn't help but notice. She caught his eye, her smile turning soft as she spotted him, and wordlessly, she made her way over. She didn't say anything at first, simply grabbed her own coffee and leaned in the wall next to him like she was talking about normal camp activities.But then her eyes fell on the campers, and the narrowing of her eyes spoke a thousand words as she picked-up a cue of a more subdued energy, the quiet murmur that replaced the morning chatty breakfast. "Did anything happen?" she said softly, nodding towards the group near Sam. "They all look… tense."Travis let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he looked over the room. "It's escalating. A couple of nights ago, during my last patrol, I saw Sam outside, saying he saw a woman outside of his cabin window." His voice was low even as his eyes remained steadfast. "He was shaken, and said she just stood there and watched him. And then he heard his mother calling him outside."Laura's eyes met his, a bright puzzled expression. Travis looked back at the floor, his face serious and mumbling, "His mother passed away almost two weeks prior to the beginning of camp.""What? Then—Why is he here?" she asked a bit louder than expected."Shh." Travis brought a finger to his lips, warning her to lower her voice. "His dad's making arrangements to take her back to her home country so she can be laid to rest according to her wishes. He didn't know what to do with Sam in the meantime, so he called. Said he hoped camp would help take his mind off things, give him something familiar. The kid's in therapy twice a week," he added quietly, his glance flickering back to Sam.” He and his mom loved camping… being outdoors. This seemed like the best place for him, somewhere he could feel safe."Laura's eyes were soft as she watched Sam, a boy who was carefree, his laughter mingling with the sounds of the camp. "Poor kid. I had no idea…" she murmured, her voice heavy with sympathy. "You think it's one of the counselors screwing with him? Or another kid? How could he had heard his mother calling?""That's my best guess," Travis muttered, though a tinge of doubt seeped into his voice. "I've kept an eye on them, but… it doesn't add up. I did a thorough background check on everybody." He turned to her, heavy with the weight of his words. "I’m really trying my best to not jump to conclusions. It’s not like I can start interrogating everybody. I’ve already spoken about ghost stories on the campfire. We have had enough of those but—" he went silent, piercing through the room with his dark eyes, suspicious of everybody. "This somehow seems targeted." "Travis, what if— The voices…" Laura started, an edge to her tone that was wary enough to turn him around."I'm not buying into the ghost stories yet," he interrupted resolutely, but the weariness in his tone was all too evident. "You heard what the—" He lost his voice as his gaze darted fleetingly around the lodge, a routine precaution to make sure no one was near enough to catch one word. "—what the man in the hospital said."Laura arched a brow, piecing together his hint. The FBI Agent, she realized."It's all explainable by science," Travis said, almost as if he was convincing himself as much as her. "There's someone behind this, not—not ghosts haunting the forest or after the kids. This feels personal.""But Travis, you heard the voices too," Laura pressed, her eyes searching his.He turned to her, desperation flashing in his eyes, his patience worn thin. "Please," he said, voice a notch quieter, almost pleading. "Just—for my peace of mind. I need to make a few calls to town, see if anyone's seen strangers hanging around. I need a description—something real, anything that points to a person."Laura gave him a steady look, concern written in her eyes. "Suppose you find nothing—”Travis's eyes fell, and his lips thinned. "Then I'll keep looking," he whispered. "I'll do whatever I have to, but I won't let myself believe there's some—supernatural force lurking out there. It's just someone; a real person doing real harm. Someone that I can stop." He straightened, forcing himself into calmness.Laura nodded. She sipped her own coffee in a contemplative mood. Her hand reached his arm, calming him down, and for a few seconds she said nothing, deep in the thought. "I will keep an eye out too," she said softly. "Maybe it is someone playing pranks. But if it is something else… I've done a bit of research. I can help you.”They settled into the silence, only nodding at each other every now and then when one of the campers would fidget, or one of the counselors would cast an anxious look out the window. Travis could feel a creeping sense of responsibility weighing heavier upon him by the hour. It was supposed to be a safe place, where kids could be kids away from anything that might haunt them. Later in the afternoon, once all the activities had finished for the day. Travis found himself, pacing the grounds around the campsite; he felt a slight shift in the shadows around the trees. He ignored it at first, figuring it was a trick of the light; then he felt something—a tingling on the back of his neck, like the ghost of a cold breeze brushing his skin. He spun slowly, his eyes scouring the tree line, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The trees just stood in the bright afternoon light, unwavering, but it didn't feel right—as if he was being watched."Mr. T?" His search was interrupted by a small, quavering voice, and he turned to see Sam standing there, face pinched in a serious manner. "Can I… can I talk to you?"Travis hunched down to be at his same level, his features softening as he nodded. "Of course, kid. What's on your mind?"Sam's eyes darted at the trees as he looked around before speaking in an urgent whisper. "I—think she is still here. I saw her again today—in the woods." He stopped, his little face white, wide-eyed with fear. "I didn't get close, but—she was watching me. Just standing there—It didn't feel right."In the child's words, Travis felt a pickle of unease, their weight sinking deep within his gut. He couldn't stop that feeling that there was something more going on, something he just couldn't quite put his finger on.“Can you describe this woman to me?" Travis asked, reaching into his wallet to pull out a small slip of paper and a pen from his front shirt pocket.Sam looked around nervously before his eyes locked on Travis', his voice barely above a whisper. "She was white, very white, young, long brown wet hair. And her clothes are all dirty, like gray and ripped. She looked—sad, like she'd been crying," he finished with a hard swallow.He took in every detail with a steady face as he wrote down what it looked like. Folding the paper carefully when he was done and placing a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder, he said, "You did the right thing telling me. Try not to worry, okay? I'll see into this and make sure you're safe."Sam nodded, still clearly relieved but also clutching his hands down in front of him. Travis laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he went to head out, the determination tightening his chest.That night, as the counselors rounded up the kids around the campfire to go through the normal round of stories and songs, Travis turned to take a little walk along the edge of the tree line. Flickering firelight danced across the ring of seated campers around it, long shadows playing on the ground. The warmth and cheer from the hum of voices did little to drive away the feeling of being watched that doggedly persisted, leaving him feeling exposed, like a figure under a spotlight.Travis froze, peering hard into the thick darkness beneath the rim of trees. He could have sworn he saw movement—a soft, subtle shift in darkness that continued, inching closer, as if a figure melted into shade. His jaw clenched and he took one step forward, squinting, peering, in an attempt to make out any detail in the poor light."Mr. T?" Jack voice cut through the quiet, and he turned to him, his face illuminated by the campfire behind him. He looked at him—a hint of a question in his eyes. "What are you looking at? We are waiting for you to start."He wasn't going to scare him, but just the same, his voice came out strained. "Thought I saw something." He shook his head in a quick gesture meant to shrug off the concern. "It's probably nothing. Just—shadows.”Jack didn't push it, just nodded before going back to the campfire. Travis looked up to see Laura glancing at him before a camper caught her attention and she looked down with a reassuring smile. Just for that heartbeat, the chill in the air receded and her warmth did battle against his skin. But as they turned back toward the campfire, Travis couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them from the darkness. The next morning, Travis didn’t waste any time. After his routine walk, during which Laura still managed to remind him, with exquisite precision, why her sharp tongue could always undo him, he snatched a quick bite and waited for the police station to open. Then he sat in his chair back in the office and dialed a well-known number."North Kill Police Station, this is Joy," said the warm, friendly voice of the receptionist."Morning, Joy," he said. "Could you pass me to the sheriff?"“Of course, can I get your name?”“It’s me, Travis Hackett,” he smiled at the phone.There was a short pause, followed by a familiar gasp on the other end. "Well, I'll be—it's so good to hear your voice! Since the trial, my goodness, I—""Joy," he interrupted, but with gentleness in his tone, "could you just put Denis on, please?""Oh, of course, hun. Just a moment." A moment later, her tone conciliatory and reassuring, with a friendly chuckle, she concluded, "And don't be such a stranger, Sheriff Hackett. We miss your face around here.""Yeah," he mumbled, his voice having taken on a rare gentleness. "I'll stop by soon."A few moments later, another voice filled the line. "Officer Whitlock, what's the nature of the emergency?”"Hey, partner," Travis replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. "A few questions if you don't mind."There was a laugh on the other end of the line. "Sheriff Hackett! I was wondering when you'd call back in.""Actually, you're the sheriff now," Travis reminded him with a wry chuckle. "But listen, I could use your help on something." "Alright, hit me. What's going on?""I need to know if there's been anyone wandering around North Kill acting—suspicious. Someone's been showing up at the camp, spooking the kids. I'm pretty sure it's just one of those supernatural thrill-seekers, trying to drum up excitement around Hackett's Quarry again." He pulled out the piece of paper from his wallet, his eyes scanning the description Sam had given him the day before."Think any of the kids might have gotten a good look at this 'spook'? Any details we can go off?""Affirmative, I got a description from one of them. Listen," Travis said, reading it aloud. "White brunette female, in her mid-twenties I believe. Long hair, pale skin, grey clothes, looks like she is in distress. Have you ever heard of anyone around here fitting that look? I feel like they are dressing themselves as a ghost or a zombie, trying to scare the kids. That’s all I have, sadly. I got the description from a terrified kid so it’s not like they could have given me more important details.”A moment of silence on the other end, followed by the low hum of consideration. "Doesn't sound familiar off the top of my head," Denis replied. "But give me an hour, and I'll see what I can dig up. Is this person targeting anyone in particular?""Not that I can tell," Travis said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But one of the campers seems to notice her most. Either they're spooking easier than the rest, or the person is deliberately making themselves known to them.""I'll go through recent reports, see if a pattern exists or if there's somebody matching your description. You think they work alone?""For what I know, there have been multiple reports from different children so there might be a group situation.”“I’ll check it out and give you a call in about an hour. Stay closer to the phone.”“Thanks," Travis said. He glanced around for a moment, then added quietly, "But let's keep it low-key for now. I don't want a patrol car up here scaring the kids even more. Maybe in plainclothes, if it comes to that. The parents already have one foot out the door with all this talk. But if we find out who's behind this, I want your help to take them down quietly.""You got it," Denis replied, his voice firm. "I'll get on it and keep you posted. And listen, Sheriff—uh, Travis—I'll handle it.""Thanks, Sheriff," Travis said, feeling a rare moment of relief. "Keep me posted."Travis hung up the phone, releasing a deep sigh, the tension melting from his shoulders. At that moment, a soft knock came from the door, and he looked up.It was just one of the counselors with a couple of questions regarding schedules. Travis put the paperwork out and helped him to go around the best route to the lake and where the towels were before switching to other subjects and worries about the rest of the summer camp. It was a nice break from the situation in hand, which he appreciated deeply. The kid, Leon, thanked him for his time and left. Hardly half an hour had passed, and the telephone again shattered the silence and rattled him back to reality. Travis picked up the receiver."Hackett's Quarry summer camp, Travis Hackett speaking.""Sheriff," Denis's voice came from the other end, "I looked into it. There hasn't been anybody recently arrested or persons of interest in the area."Travis slumped back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as disappointment started to seep in. "Nothing at all?"“Negative. There's— well, there is two recent disappearances," Denis said with a more serious tone. "A hunter, Ethan Harper-forty-four-and his daughter, Erica, twenty-two. They disappeared about a week and a half ago. Their last sighting was near the North Kill Woods, and their car was found abandoned at the Devils’ Creek trailhead.”Travis wrote the names down, his mind taking off at a thousand miles an hour. "A week and a half? We have had those pranksters for longer than that in the area, that’s quite recent for it to be them behind it. If they were really lost and found the camp, they wouldn't stay hidden and freak the kids out, right? Why wouldn’t they ask for help if they found us?”"I have no clue, but it's the only lead we've got. Just in case, if you see them, give us a call. Hey, I'll keep digging in the meantime, see if there's anything else that comes up.""Thanks, Sheriff. I'll make sure to let the staff and counselors know to keep an eye out. We've got a small radio tower here. Maybe I'll put out a broadcast message, just in case they're nearby.""Good idea, but be careful. No telling what's going on with these two.""Right. I'll keep you posted. Thanks again."He hung up, sat thinking a moment, then got up and headed across the campgrounds toward the radio tower. It was a small, out-of-the-way building with old equipment, but it would work. He had hope on it, more after the renovations. He pushed open the creaking door and stepped inside. Dust motes lazily floated in the narrow streams of sunlight that filtered through the old grimy windows.The room was equal parts nostalgic and unnerving: memories from when Chris had been camp leader seemed to flood his senses, reminding him of how radio communication had been one of the few ways to keep in contact in case of an emergency. He took a deep breath, reached out, and flipped the switch on. The light on the switch flickered on. Static filled the air as he turned the dials, clearing his throat before speaking into the microphone."This is Travis Hackett, camp leader here at Hackett's Quarry," he began, the echoes making his voice just a little hollow. "We are broadcasting this message to anyone in the area. We're aware of recent reports of missing persons, Ethan Harper and Erica Harper. If you're in the vicinity and in need of assistance, please make your presence known, and we will be happy to help. We're located directly within Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. This message will repeat."He released the button, easing back with a sigh, as the weight closed in around him.Travis listened as the message replayed on repeat, filling the small radio tower with his voice—a quiet plea out to anyone out there who might be listening, who might need help. Despite hard facts mounted over the weeks—no solid evidence, just sightings and strange disturbances—he was fighting the urge to dismiss it all as elaborate pranks.Yet, with the news of the missing Harpers, a doubt quivered its way into his mind. They had enjoyed camping it seemed, even hunting together. Might their spirits, lost and wandering, be lingering here somehow? The suggestion sounded absurd, a tale he would have dismissed sans merit only months earlier.He shook his head, clearing the thought as he reached to turn off the broadcast and left the building, stepping out into the early morning light. Outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air, and the quiet woods surrounding the camp held onto something… strange. There was a silence out of the ordinary, as if even the trees were watching him, listening. For one brief moment, the hairs on the back of his neck rose.But as he walked back towards the lodge, a small semblance of peace settled over him. He just needed to believe in his old police team and keep his eyes open.The unease simmered over the surface through the next few days, passing amongst the campers and staff like a quiet storm. Whispers of sightings drifted from cabin to cabin, passed on to one nervous kid from another, each tale growing darker with every telling. Travis felt tension rise with each report, though his expression stayed calm, a solid anchor in their mounting fears.However, a few nights later, another incident pushed Travis over the edge.It started out innocently enough. The kids sat around the campfire, making s'mores and listening to stories. Faces fuzzy in firelight, laughter echoed throughout the camp as one of the counselors, Nuria, told a story about the year the raccoons raided the camp kitchen of a summer camp she worked on in Florida a couple of years ago. But as the flames burned down and the campers trickled back to their cabins, a thin, eerie fog rolled in off of the lake.The fog continued to thicken, casting an unnatural chill over the campgrounds. Travis stood near the fire pit, watching as the mist settled like a shroud over the trees. There was something off about it; the fog felt wrong, too thick, almost as if it breathed. He would have sworn he saw figures in the mist—faint outlines shifting in and out of focus. He told himself it was tricks of light, but a few nervous glances from other campers on their way to their beds assured him that wasn't all it was.And then the crying came—soft, at first, just a sob that sounded like a woman, but then it built louder and spread through the trees, echoing with a queer distortion as if the noise came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Travis felt the hairs raise down his back as he stooped over, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. His patience, already worn thin by weeks of gripes and sleepless nights, snapped."Alright! Who's out there?" he yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice slicing through the fog. He ripped through the campgrounds, his flashlight held like a truncheon, his anger seething just below the surface. He peered around every bend, his footsteps fast and hard. The other campers looked back, staring at him with wide nervous eyes."What's happening, Mr. T?" one of the counselors asked, her voice shaking.Travis fought off the edge of frustration, glancing at her. "Just some prankster," he grumbled, and did not bother to mask his irritant tone. "Don't worry, I'll handle it, take the kids to their cabins."He walked away, following the cries. The fog did not lift, nor did the noises go away. Each time he thought he was getting close, the cry would finally start to fade away, until it began again somewhere else. Not only would he be exhausted but upon returning to the main path his hands would be clenched tight around the flashlight, breathing raggedly.Just then, Laura came alongside him, her eyes wide with concern. She had been watching from afar how he had been walking around the grounds, his steps tense and his eyes scanning every shadow. She made sure to take the kids back to their cabins before she approached him with caution, reaching out to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder."Hey," she whispered softly, trying to be quiet but steady. "What's going on?""Don't you hear it?" he growled, looking around as though expecting something to pop out from behind a tree at any moment."What do you hear?" she asked, her voice tinged with alarm. "I don't hear anything.""It's out there!" His tone came razor-sharp now, his eyes darting jerkily from tree to tree."Travis," she said gently, her voice shaking. "Please, you're freaking me out." She swallowed, placing her hand over his arm to stop him. She managed to get him to snap off it, and he turned to her, his face split between fear and frustration."I—I'm so sorry," he muttered, trying to look away. "It's driving me crazy. I need to make it stop.""Freaking out isn't going to help," she coaxed softly, reaching up and resting a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You have calm down, okay?"He spun to face her, frustration barely contained. "I can't. I need to end it. I'm not going to allow a bunch of idiots to turn this camp into some kind of ghost story for these kids." His voice dropped, and she could see the exhaustion weighing on him, like he was carrying the whole camp on his shoulders alone. Heavy responsibility just on him. Like always. Laura refused to let this happen.She stared at him a moment, her eyes searching his. He looked so beaten down, the calm of his customary demeanor replaced by an almost desperate need to make things right. She could see it was eating away at him, wearing him down piece by piece."Listen," she said in a soft voice. "Why don't we just… go away for a day? This Saturday. Just you and me. We'll go to Tommy's, grab a beer, get some air. I think you need it."He shook his head. "I can't leave, not when this is going on.""Travis," she said, her voice more insistent. "You're wound so tight I can practically see the knots. We'll be gone just a few hours, okay? The camp will survive. You need to step back and breathe. Please. Nothing is happening. I feel it's just you being stressed and tired. I know there is a lot going on, but I’ve just watched you lose your shit over some sound."Travis blew out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. A break, even just for a day, sounded too good to resist. But he shook his head. "I just can't leave the camp to… whatever this is. Kids are scared.""Then let them have a break from you, too," she teased, a faint smile breaking through her concern. "They are seeing you too, they look up to you and you are behaving like a maniac. You need to take a break, everybody is fine, and you need to recharge your batteries. You can’t keep running the camp on low. So let’s go, alright? Take me to Tommy's, or let’s go to the movies, or just have dinner out. A date like you wanted it. Or just take me to your place if you want, we can spend an hour there just relaxing on the couch. Let's just have a normal day for once. Besides, maybe getting out of here will clear your head and you'll get a fresh perspective on whatever's going on. It will help to see the town in person, maybe something comes up in that detective head of yours.""I can't just leave them here to go and have some fun," he grunted. Laura nodded, she could never change his mind about it, not about something this serious. But then she came up with an idea."We can go and visit the police station. Didn't you say your partner has more information about the missing people? We can go and see the missing posters of those two missing people you told me about, to see if they match up descriptions. Would that be better instead? We will go to the station, get you out of here for a couple of hours, and get to see the faces of the Harpers. It will make you feel better, it will give your brain a rest. You will be able to think more clearly."He looked down, her gentle touch grounding, and he could feel himself softening. The weight of the past months had settled deep in his bones, and he was starting to feel it in every aching joint and sleepless night. She was right. Of course she was. He needed to see those pictures, to see a face matching the descriptions. He needed to do something more than stay here chasing invisible shadows."Just a couple of hours?" he asked, a halfhearted attempt to keep things light.She rolled her eyes, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Scout's honor," she whispered. "We'll be back by evening."He hesitated, weighing his responsibility against the need to breathe, to be anywhere else for a while. Finally, he let out a long sigh, nodding. "Alright. But just the day. And if anything happens…""I'll drag you back myself," she promised, grinning.He sighed with something that seemed relief, a rare sound these days, and she smiled in return. For the first time in weeks, he felt a glimmer of relief at the thought of leaving—if only for a little while.Travis looked at her, her blue eyes, even in the dark. Laura noticed this and took it as an invitation; she made sure they were alone, lowered his flashlight and, with one step, kissed him under the stars.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Saturday had come sooner than either of them anticipate, and now the road wound out before them, curving through trees and fields. Travis drove in silence for a while, hands firm on the wheel, but Laura could sense his tension. She placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing in slow circles to settle him. He turned toward her, a soft smile tugging at his mouth, though the faint furrow between his eyebrows remained.She had told Nuria some vague story about where she was off to, hoping that her friend would vouch for her with the staff, who assumed this was just a supply run. Laura really did need a few things for the nursery station, and Travis was just 'supervising'. But today, she was planning on making the most of their alone time. They had decided to stop by North Kill's station to meet with Denis in hopes of gathering more information about the two missing hunters before going to dinner, just a way to justify the trip on Travis unraveling mind. Being able to see the missing posters would drive them closer to discover if they had anything to do with the current situation in Hackett’s Quarry, or at least help him keep an eye out for them if they showed up, too.As they pulled into the small car park of the North Kill station, Travis brought the vehicle to a stop, letting it idle a moment before killing the engine. He sat back in his seat, hands gripping the wheel as he stared at the unassuming building. It was modestly sized, brick-faced, and nothing like the smaller station Laura had seen before. It was all new—a different backdrop from the one in which they had fought, barking like rabid dogs at each other's necks not too long ago.She turned to the building, then turned back to Travis. His face wore an expression she knew only too well—thoughtful, hesitant, and, as ever, closed."Want me to stay here?" she asked after a moment, her voice quiet but clear, without hesitation.Travis turned to her slowly, his face unreadable at first. Then the question settled into him, and his lips tightened. It was clear he was turning it over in his mind, considering whether this should be a solitary encounter. "Denis would be happy to see you, and he might want to hear your side of things," he said finally, the weight of his decision evident in his voice. "You’ve got a good eye for details, and you’ll be able to answer some of his questions."Her eyebrows rose at the uncharacteristic compliment that left his mouth, but she said nothing, teasing him about it with her expression. She nodded instead, quietly understanding. "Alright then. Let's go."The two exited the vehicle and crossed the short stretch to the station doors. Laura took in the surroundings; the small-town simplicity was appealing, yet somehow unsettling in its quiet. She hesitated as Travis reached for the door handle, studying the tense set of his posture. There was a bracing in the way he held himself, a care taken that seemed to make him more like his old self—the sheriff she had first met.The inside of the station was humble: a scuffed and faded linoleum floor, chairs lining the walls mismatched. A subtle smell of coffee mingled with the ever-present dust that seemed to settle in places like this. The front desk was neat, sparsely decorated, save for a small bouquet of plastic flowers in a dull green vase that didn't quite match the desk's wooden finish.As they entered, the woman at the reception desk, Joy, looked up from her screen. Her face changed in an instant from disinterest to recognition as her eyes focused on Travis. Shock mixed with something else, akin to a spark of excitement, lit her eyes."Sheriff Hackett! Oh, well, former Sheriff, I suppose," she teased, shaking her head. "How've you been?""Good to see you, Joy," he returned, nodding politely, giving a faint smile, though the easy warmth that might usually accompany it wasn't quite there. He just didn't have it in him, not with everything at camp weighing on him. "Is Denis around?""Of course, I'll get him for you," Joy replied, glancing over at Laura with a friendly, but questioning, smile. "And who's this beautiful young woman?""Laura Kearney," Laura said, introducing herself and smiling back as naturally as she could. Travis placed a comforting hand at her back, just as Joy’s eyes opened up in a mute recognition. “Oh dear, happy to see you here, Ms. Kearney, very happy to meet you,” she said as she called for Denis over the phone.A few moments later, Denis Whitlock entered, a grin breaking across his face when he saw his old friend. "Travis! It's been a while."They shook hands firmly, with Denis giving a respectful nod to Laura, his curious gaze assessing her. "Good to see you here, ma’am.”Laura nodded politely, but her eyes had already moved on as Travis spoke up. His voice was even, but threaded with undercurrents of urgency. "You said you'd check out the disappearances. Ethan Harper and his daughter Erica?”“Right, right." Denis led them back toward his office with a nod.The Sheriff office was functional but modest, far from extravagant. The desk, with slight scuffs from time and use, was cluttered with neat stacks of paperwork, a cup of pens, and a framed photo of Denis with his family—they were smiling, obviously on some sort of hiking trip, Laura thought. Standing behind him was a row of filing cabinets, each labeled with meticulous care, though a small potted plant precariously perched atop one belied an attempt at decoration. The awards and commendations of old, along with a departmental calendar—its outdated theme speaking to a lowlier history of North Kill—hung on the walls.It wasn't until they stepped inside that the familiarity of the space started gnawing at Travis. It had been his office, his desk. He knew the groove on the armrest of the chair, the small crack near the edge of the filing cabinet. And then there was Denis—who'd once been his partner, who'd joked they would grow old and die doing this job—filling the space with life. A little tug happened with Travis, but he worked it with a straight face. Denis motioned to two chairs across from the desk."Have a seat," he replied in a calm, firm manner as one professional talking to another, yet his tone hid underlying overtones of friendship that didn't go unnoticed by Laura.Travis nodded, lowering himself into the familiar chair while Laura moved smoothly into the seat beside him, her eyes darting curiously around the room. The faint scent of coffee and aged wood that hung in the air seemed to place her in a very real, and very different chapter of Travis's life.Denis settled into his chair, reaching for a folder from the stack beside him and flipping it open. As he sifted through papers and photographs, he pulled out a few with the familiarity of someone that had memorized the case."The Harpers," he said, holding up a photo of a middle-aged man with graying hair, smiling awkwardly beside a teenage girl with long, straight brown hair. "They went missing about sixteen days ago. Devil's Creek trailhead. Their car was parked there, neat as you like, but no sign of foul play. Nothing. Just… gone." His voice softened at the last word, his brows furrowed as he passed the photo across the desk toward Travis.Travis leaned forward instinctively; his big hands steady as he took the photographs. His eyes scanned the faces, memorizing every detail. Both of them were unremarkable, a hunter with his daughter who would have fit in with the crowds of North Kill with ease.Laura leaned over Travis's shoulder to peer at the photo. "Does she fit any of the descriptions the campers gave you?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice. Her fingertips brushed the edge of the photo as her gaze stayed locked on the image of the girl.Travis shook his head before handing the photo back, his expression unreadable, but his voice firm. "Their car had no signs of foul play, you said?"Denis nodded. "Locked, no obvious damage. Like they just vanished after stepping onto the trail. We've done a few searches around Devil's Creek but nothing's turned up—not so much as a dropped water bottle." He paused, sitting back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "That's where I was hoping you had any sights at the Quarry."Denis pushed another folder across the desk, this one containing notes and maps of the search zones already covered. “If they’re wandering through Hackett’s Quarry territory, maybe you’ve seen something. You’ve got a hell of an eye for details. And Ms. Kearney…” He glanced at her briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, from what I’ve heard, you’ve got no shortage of instincts when it comes to spotting trouble.”She smirked at the comment but focused already on the maps as she unfolded one and laid it flat on the desk. "How far is Devil's Creek from the Quarry?"Travis leaned forward, his finger tapping a point on the map where the trail forked sharply. "Here's Devil's Creek," he started, his tone firm, yet tight. He moved his finger a few inches west to a sprawling patch labeled Hackett's Quarry Summer Camp. "And this is the Quarry."Denis nodded. "That's where we found the car. And it's about where their last known coordinates would have been before the cell signal dropped."Laura furrowed her brow, comparing the two points as she tilted her head. "What's that in miles?" she asked, almost casually."For an experienced hiker?" Travis said, shifting his hand to trace a winding route along the marked trails. "About seven miles. It's close enough for a day trek. For someone unfamiliar with the woods… probably longer. And a lot harder, considering the terrain isn't forgiving past this point." His finger landed on the steeper section of Devil's Creek.Laura hummed thoughtfully, her fingertips light on the map as her mind worked through the possible routes. "So if they were last seen here, and assuming they planned to loop back toward their car…" She moved her hand back toward Devil's Creek, frowning at the gaps in the marked trails. "They'd either need to know these woods well or they'd risk wandering deeper."Travis nodded. "If they took the Quarry trail junction," he said, pointing to another line that split off in the general direction of the camp, "they could've wound up near the camp—or further north. But if they tried to double back and lost the trail here…" He tapped Devil's Creek again. "Then it gets rough. Low visibility. Narrow paths. Still, it doesn't make sense for them to hike all this way to a summer camp to scare children."As Denis flipped open the file, Travis hunched forward, eyes scanning over the details and the maps before going back to the picture. They seemed like a couple that got really lost, not people that would enjoy distressing a camp full of kids.Travis's face darkened, and a shadow crossed over his features. Laura placed a reassuring hand on his arm; he steadied himself and glanced back at her. The subtle strength in her eyes seemed to anchor him."Thanks, Denis," Travis finally said, heaving a tense sigh. "Keep me posted if anything changes, will you?”“So no ringing any bells?” a tinge of concern etched on his voice. Travis looked at the pictures again. He had no recollection of anybody seeing a man. She, on the other hand, was small, smiley, brunette with long hair and a round face, her eyes were brown, and she had a peculiar freckle on her cheek. He guessed that if this was the prankster she could be hiding any details with makeup. If she was a lost woman roaming the summer camp, Travis couldn’t grasp how she wouldn’t have reached for them for help if needed. “No, I might take one of your missing posters, just in case. I can show it to the staff and counselors, so they can keep an eye out.”“Be my guest,” Denis turned around on his chair and grabbed the top paper from a pile, giving it to them. Laura grabbed another copy with a thankful nod. “Thanks for all, partner, it’s really giving me a headache,” Travis said, Denis stood up and they both shook hands. "If anything gets too crazy, you know where I am. The Quarry has always been a place of horror stories, it doesn’t really have to be anything real for the kid’s imaginations to play up. But in any case, my offer stands.”As they were leaving the police station, the weight of the situation felt even heavier. Once they were back inside the car, Travis took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. He looked weary, almost as if the full burden of protection of the camp, the kids, and Laura herself was settled on only his shoulders. A task to complete alone.She could see how this was making him lose his cool, settling over his shoulders in a way that almost made him look smaller. His strength, usually reserved, was worn down by weeks of worry, of being pulled in every direction. This alone time was what she had wanted, rare time spent letting go with him, laughing, feeling normal. But the exhaustion had taken its toll on his face, and she could not rid herself of the thought of how he desperately needed to take a break away from all that responsibility. She just could not be selfish enough to pull him from that thing weighing most on his mind—the camp.She leaned over, placing her hand on his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Travis," she started softly, immediately a relief on Travis' soul. "Do you want to go back to camp? I can see your brain fuming right now. We don't need to go anywhere else if you feel like you need to be there."Travis gave her a weak, tired smile. Her touch was the first thing in days to truly pull him out of his own head. He squeezed her hand in return, his thumb brushing over hers in silent appreciation."Thanks," he muttered, his eyes softening as he looked at her. "But I kind of promised you, didn't I? And I haven't been exactly great at keeping my promises lately, nor I even had time to spend with you alone, so… I owe you this one.""You did promise me some us-time, a date—if I remember well," she said, a small grin pulling at her lips, "but knowing you, you would most likely be thinking about missing people while making out on your couch."Travis gave a wry laugh, rolling his eyes. "So better skip the snuggles and just go to dinner instead?""You're no fun at all," she teased, crossing her arms and nudging him playfully with her foot.The rest of the evening yawned before him. But even then, something in him shifted uneasily, as if its being away from the camp for too long was wrong in itself."Let's go back to camp," she said, her voice firm. She saw his eyebrows lower, already ready to frown in protest, but she shook her head with a soft smile. "We got what we came for, photos of missing people that could potentially be involved with what's going on with these kids. Getting out there cleared your head, but you won't be happy until you know everything back there is taken care of, so let's go back. You will feel better for having done what you needed to do.”He stared back at her, taken aback. Most of his relationships in the past had ended because he could not leave work at work, or family. The wrong priorities in order, they used to say. He'd been called stubborn, detached, impossible to prioritize anything outside of his duties. Yet here was Laura, urging him to do what was right—even if it meant giving up their rare moment together.He took a deep breath, his eyes steady on hers. "I don't deserve you.”"Don't get me wrong," she said with a grin, nudging his leg once more with her foot, "I'm still sneaking into your room tonight to make up for lost time. So you better get an excuse to tell my fellow counselors why I’m not in bed tonight."A deep rumble of a chuckle rose from his chest. "Guess I'll be leaving my door open, then."She giggled, her head rolling back on her shoulders. For one quiet moment, they just stared at each other, with all the understanding and feelings that they had yet to express. Travis felt some of the tension release in him, too, his hand instinctively reaching down to her foot resting on his thigh, holding it, stroking his thumb over her ankle in wordless appreciation—a rare moment of intimacy even within their compromise.As they drove down the road back to the camp, Travis' mind finally started to settle. The fact that she was here, reassuring him with her words and her presence, made him feel more grounded and in peace that he had felt in days. He could breathe again, knowing he'd done right by both her and the kids at camp.He began to relax into the closeness, tracing gentle circles over her ankle, when his gaze fell onto the fuel gauge; it was alarmingly low."I'll just have to make a quick stop for gas," he said.She nodded, grabbing her backpack from the floor of the car to grab a shopping list and stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. "Good, I might be able to get there some of the supplies Theresa asked me for the nursery."He kept driving, this time away from the camp, just a couple of miles to one of the few petrol stations in the area. As they pulled up to the little filling station, Laura exited the car with Travis, stretching her arms over her head. Travis ambled over to the pump, pulled out the hose, and began filling up the tank. Laura leaned up against him, slinging her arms around his neck, playing with the collar of his flannel shirt with her fingers.Travis ducked his head, letting her in closer, and she kissed his cheek, rubbing her nose against his skin before brushing a light kiss over his lips. He felt her delight spill into every touch, every laugh, like she couldn't hold back the smile tugging at her mouth. A little giggling sound escaped her, her lips curving high into a grin that was just simple, unadulterated joy. He wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her sway into him, her movements light, almost like a dance. It was the kind of happiness he hadn't known was possible, her joy filling him with a sense of pride he couldn't quite articulate. This was something he thought he'd never have—a love so vivid, so freely given.As the pump clicked, he let her go reluctantly and set the hose back in its place. "Gonna go and pay. You need anything?" he asked, looking at her with warmth.Laura leaned forward, swung his hand lightly, and said, "I might just get a cold coffee for tomorrow morning, but I need to grab a couple of things for the nursery, and a couple of counselors requested some snacks. So, I'm coming with you." The words came out with the mischief dancing in her eyes, and somehow, those words caught him deep inside. Travis's face warmed; his smile threatened to break its reins at the rare thrill of having someone so vibrant beside him.Hand in hand, they crossed over to the little gas station. Just before he went inside, Laura leaned a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth—a light, playful kiss that sent a thrill through him. Then she turned away, heading for the fridges, loose and relaxed.While Laura went to the back of the store, Travis stood in line at the cashier, lost in thought as this all seemed so unreal, doing the most ordinary thing in the world with her next to him. He hardly noticed when the person in front of him was done and moved out of the way until Laura returned with a cold coffee in hand, shaking it teasingly, and a basket on her other hand."You sure you don't want me to get that for you?" he asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.“Hold your horses, I don't need a sugar daddy for coffee," she laughed, eye-rolling as she nudged his arm. Travis chuckled, turning to the counter to pay. As he handed the cashier a few bills, Laura let her eyes wander around the store, absently glancing up at the security mirror mounted in the corner.That's when she saw him.A man had just walked into the station. More dragged himself that walked, like there was heavy lead attached to his muddy boots. Something was off. He wore dark green clothes, covered in mud and grime, like he'd walked in from days of trekking through woods. He had a rifle slung over one shoulder, with a worn leather strap stained with dirt. And the smell seemed to somehow thicken the air: pungent and earthy, nearly damp soil mixed with something metallic and sharp.Laura's eyes narrowed, her eyebrows furrowed. She had spent enough time outdoors to recognize that smell. This wasn't the normal musk of a hunter fresh from the woods. There was a foul undernote, something she couldn't quite place but wanted instinctively to move away from. She let her gaze flick sideways to Travis, but he was still chatting with the cashier, oblivious. Meanwhile, the man moved slowly, almost stiffly, each step dragging as he ambled further inside, his eyes dull, unfocused.Suddenly, a chill ran down her spine, a shiver coiling and pressing into her skin. And then, clear as day, a voice boomed inside her mind—a single word, sharp and accusing:
‘Murderers.'
Laura's breath caught in her throat; her heart started pounding. She looked again at the man's face in the mirror; her brain battled to make sense of the familiarity with something so wrong over it. His eyes were empty, which sent another wave of fear down her spine. Her instincts yelled at her that something was not right, but the logical part of her mind fought for dismissal.But as soon as Laura saw the man raise his gun her instincts kicked in. Her mind went into autopilot as she dropped everything in her hands before launching herself at Travis, grabbing the collar of his flannel shirt and yanking him down just as the gunshot cracked through the air. The bullet sliced past them, its shockwave grazing her cheek. Behind the counter, the cashier shrieked as the shot pierced her shoulder, hitting the spot where Travis had been standing only a few seconds before.Travis looked into Laura's eyes, wide with incredulity, barely comprehending what was just real there."Move!" she snarled, clenching his arm and pushing him toward the narrow aisles between the shelves.Hunched low, they moved between racks of chips and cans of food, barely breathing, as seps sounded behind them. The man—if that was indeed what he was—prowled through the store, the heavy, unnatural footfalls echoing with an unnerving dragging quality, as if something scraped along with each step."Head for the back door," Travis whispered, and the tightness in his voice relayed tension. They shuffled forward, keeping low behind the rows of shelves, but as they made their way up and down the aisles, Laura's eyes landed on a bag of salt on a bottom shelf. An idea seared into her brain in a vague thought, pure instinctive. She grasped the bag, clutched it to her chest as they maneuvered toward the back door, careful not to draw the attacker's attention."Laura, what're you—" Travis began. But she shook her head sharply, her eyes blazing with some incomprehensible understanding.Laura tore the bag of salt open with an avid fierceness and cast a thick line of salt upon the ground between themselves and their pursuer. They continued to move their way forward until, finally, they were near the back door. But just as they reached the open space near it, they were spotted. The man turned, his vacant eyes locking onto them with a chilling vacancy. He started working towards them in ragged steps.She watched, heart pounding in her chest as the man, almost immediately, drew to a stop at the line of salt she just drew. His eyes dropped to the salt barrier before his face twisted, his body recoiling as if repelled, and his hands twitched.He tried to press forward, but some unseen force seemed to hold him back. Laura's eyes went wide with that shocked understanding."He… he can't cross it," she whispered, a note of awe in her voice.Travis glanced from her to the figure, realization dawning. "What—?"“He is not human!” Laura gasped, taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, her mind racing back to that odd whisper she'd heard in the store earlier, a voice that had sounded to her like a dark shiver in her bones. "I heard a voice when he came to the store. I know that voice—"But Travis shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around the impossibility of it all. "Ghosts aren't—”"Then how do you explain that? " She retorted, nodding to the man, whose dead eyes stared back at them from the other side of the line of salt. “Are you telling me werewolves aren’t either?” A second shot fired, this one plowing into a nearby shelf and raining glass shards down around them as they sprinted for the door, yanking it open and flinging themselves through just as another round pinged off the doorframe.They fell inside and into darkness, gasping. The relief was short-lived, however. It wasn't a back door to outside: it was a dead-end storage room with no exit but the one they'd just come through. They scanned the little dim room, their breathing hard with adrenaline. The storage space was cluttered with boxes stacked high and metal shelves crammed with spare car parts, cans of oil, and all kinds of tools. But there was no way out."Fuck," Laura whisper under her breath. She hurried spun around and close the door with a slam, pouring another line of salt over the threshold of the door. It was a shaky line, but it was fundamental to buy them some time. She looked up to catch Travis's stare, incredulous as she closed the salt bag and dropped beside the door. He took a deep breath then spoke; voice rough. "What the hell are you doing?""He can't cross it," Laura said, nodding toward the door. "The salt— it stops him. It? I… I don't know exactly how it works, but it does." She met his gaze, her own fear mixed with fierce resolution. "I think he is possessed, Travis."For a moment, Travis was silent, evidently struggling to contain his disbelief. His eyes snapped to the line of salt and back to Laura. "You really think a ghost…?""I'm positive of it," she replied, yanking at his arm. "There's no other explanation. I have some information about them in my bag, but it's in the car.”“Where did you learn all of this?” he asked with disbelief. “I told you I did some research, it started when I was figuring out ways to kill Silas… I just kept doing it because it was entertaining.”“Well, how do we stop him?”Another shot fired outside, this one sounding closer. Laura could feel her pulse racing as they glanced around the room, desperate for anything they could use to defend themselves. “Salt stops them, also repels them so they can’t enter rooms or houses. Fire, burning their remains will kill the spirits.”“We are in a gas station, we are not starting a fire here,” he pointed out. Laura cursed, understanding. “Let's check around the room, we might find something.”They moved around the crowded space, hearing the steps just behind the door, stopped only by the salt. Travis's eyes fell on a dusty shotgun mounted on the wall near an old First Aid box. He reached up and took it down, inspecting it quickly."Only two shells," he muttered, checking the barrel.Laura looked around the room and saw a box that said "Road Salt - Coarse." She yanked it open, finding large, jagged pieces of salt inside. "We can use this," she said, pulling out the salt chunks and holding them out to him. "Make salt shells."Travis's eyes widened as he realized what she was planning. “What?”“Salt stops them, it hurts them too. Maybe that would make that thing leave the body without killing the person, it’s a win-win. But I need you to make salt shells with those,” she nodded at the shotgun. “Like the ones you did with silver. I have no idea of how to do it, but you have done them before.”“Fuck,” He drew a utility knife from his belt—a general purpose tool that he always carried since he started in the summer camp. “I need a table and five minutes.”Laura cleaned a shelf and Travis got to work, very carefully opening one of the shells, pouring out the original pellets to the side. He replaced them with the pieces of coarse salt, pressing them in with the blade of the knife before he closed it back up, securing the shell.They both flinched at the sound of another gunshot echoing through the store, the noise sending another fresh wave of tension into the room. The ghostly figure probably stood right on the other side of the door, held off by nothing but that thin line of salt Laura had laid.“Hurry," Laura urged, nodding toward the door as Travis worked on the second shell. She could hear footsteps faintly beyond the stockroom, pacing back and forth, and she bit her lip, keeping her voice low. "This thing, whatever it is… it's not going to give up.”Travis's hands moved with sure, steady precision, but Laura could see the tension in his face as he prepped the shell. "I don't know if this will work, but… it's worth a shot," he said softly, sliding the two loaded salt shells into the shotgun.The footsteps ceased suddenly, turned on like a switch to complete silence, thick as the air around her holding its breath. Laura tried to listen, her gaze fixed upon the door, her heart pounding with any surmise of what was going to transpire.The silence did not last. From the other side, a slow, scraping sound cut the air, as if fingers were dragging down the wooden door, deliberate and menacing. Laura shivered; the eerie noise cut straight through her, filling her with a mix of dread and anger.Travis raised the shotgun, leveling it at the door with grim determination in his eyes. "If it comes through…," he started, voice hardening. "I'll shoot first. Just stay behind me.”They held their ground; a salt line was between them and that entity outside—the only shield, a thin barrier against the darkness lurking on the other side. The wait stretched on, each second like an eternity, as the scraping sound finally stopped… then again, there was silence.Laura's eyes clashed with Travis'. With a rushing heart, Laura lunged at the door handle."Laura," he rasped, her name low in a warning.She stopped, keeping her eyes on him unwavering, "We can't stay here forever."Travis frowned; his teeth clenched—the unease stitched on his features. "It's too dangerous.""Then it's a good thing you're the better shot," she whispered, eyes wide and serious; "You just cover me, ok? I can open the door, and you make sure we're not stepping into the frying pan."He opened his mouth to argue, but she cut him off with a look—a determined fire in her eyes that brooked no protest."You’ve got the aim, Sheriff," she said with a faint smirk, trying to inject some humor into the moment despite the tight knot of fear in her stomach. "So use it.""I don't even know if this is going to work.""Just trust me."For a moment, Travis hesitated, his hand tightening on the gun, but he nodded reluctantly. "Alright," he said gruffly. "But don't do anything stupid."Laura gave him a small nod, the fingers wrapped around the handle. She took a steadying breath and looked back once more at him. "Stay ready."Before he could even voice his concern, she yanked it open, her mind fixed on one thing: they couldn't stay trapped in here any longer.The ghostly figure jerked forward with the sudden opening of the door, eyes hollow and rageful, his rifle upraised with terrifying calm. Travis didn't hesitate. He raised the shotgun, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and pulled the trigger.
Click.
It misfired.The salt shot jammed, leaving the gun useless in his hands. For a second, his heart seemed to freeze as he stared in disbelief. "Damn it!" he hissed through clenched teeth, lowering the shotgun swiftly to eject the stuck cartridge, fingers fumbling as adrenaline spiked hot in his chest."Travis!" Laura's voice was sharp, pulling his focus.Already in motion, her gaze flashed to the fire extinguisher mounted near the doorway, and instinct sparked into action. Sans hesitation, she lunged for it, yanking it free with all her might. The heavy cylinder strained in her arms, but she did not falter.In one smooth, flowing motion, she pointed the extinguisher at the shooter and pulled the trigger. A cloud of thick, white chemical fog suddenly erupted with a loud hiss to engulf the space and the figure within. The oppressive silence gave way to a choking shroud of white that obscured their assailant from them.Using the blinding cover to his advantage, Travis surged into motion. He ran towards the door and drove his shoulder hard with a guttural growl against him, which caused the ghostly figure to stumble backwards, lowering its rifle."Move!" Travis rasped, his voice hoarse with tension, reaching for Laura. His hand clamped onto her arm like a lifeline, and he pulled her forward with enough force to yank her from her spot.They bolted from the storage room, boots pounding the floor as heavy, sharp breaths lanced through tightly confined air. The adrenaline surging through Travis was like liquid fire: his heartbeat a drum pounding in his ears, the pulsation at every step urging one notion on him—protect her.He refused to let go of her arm, his grip firm but protective, as if releasing her might mean losing her forever. The thought propelled him forward, sharper than the fear gnawing at his resolve. Beside him, Laura kept pace, her breaths coming hard and fast, determination carved into every line of her face.Behind them still loomed the white cloud, dim and uncannily silent; neither looked behind. But Travis had no desire to dwell upon the spectral terror behind: forward—forward lay safety.But after several steps into it, something in the air changed. Laura's instincts launched, and she froze, eyes wide with horror as she watched over her shoulders as the man rise anew, his rifle lifting this time pointed squarely at them."Travis!" she screamed, her voice slicing through the din. She was across the space in a heartbeat, flinging herself at him without a second thought, and pushing him with all her might to one side. He staggered, his grasp releasing the shotgun as it clattered against the tiles. The man's gaze swung to her, eyes alight with something unnatural, beyond reason.She dropped low without thinking, her arm swooping down to grab the shotgun. She angled her shot, fingers firm as she squeezed the trigger.The blast reverberated through the store, echoing off the walls. This time, he gasped, chest heaving with an awful, wet sound as he fell back. He hit the floor hard, his body finally going still, eyes staring blankly upwards to the ceiling.Travis scrambled up, his heart lodged in his throat as he ran to her, hands immediately reaching for her face as if to assure himself she was real, that she was there and unhurt. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.“Laura.” His voice was barely audible above a whisper, hoarse and raw with fear and relief mixed within its confines. His fingers clutched at the fabric of her shirt, his face against her head, holding her tight for the warmth of her, the pulse beneath her skin telling him she was alive. He didn't want to let her go, afraid she might slip away again. "Fuck—kid."She leaned her hand against the back of his neck, small circular rubs, as trying to soothe him. "I'm okay, love," she whispered, the words steady, reassuring. "I'm okay."He drew back an inch or two to look at her, his eyes red-rimmed and swimming with emotions he couldn't express. "I… I thought I lost you," he choked, fighting to keep himself together. The vise around his chest loosened enough to allow him to take in a deep, shaking breath.The soft smile on Laura's face rose, her hand reaching up to brush the errant strand of hair off his forehead. "Not going anywhere," she said quietly, her thumb tracing along his cheek. Her gaze held his steady, warm, and centered him as the mayhem of the moment fell to a tight silence.Before they could get themselves together entirely, the silent sound of footsteps sliced through the air. They turned to see Denis enter the shop, another officer and a couple of paramedics following close behind. Travis suspected the cashier had alerted them after falling behind the counter. Smart cookie. Travis pointed to where she was, hiding still where she fell, and half the paramedics ran to her to take care of her wound shot; her face pale, but her breathing steady.The face of Denis was drawn and wary; his eyes were wide, taking in the sight of Travis, Laura, and a lifeless figure that had lain on the floor. "What… what happened here?" Denis asked in a low tone, unsure as his gaze flicked between them and the eerie stillness of the body sprawled across the floor.Travis straightened, brushing a hand over his mouth as he worked to steady his voice. "We were just paying for gas," he started, his words measured, each one taking extra effort. "Then he… he just came in. He fired without a word. Chased us all the way to the stockroom.”Denis shook his head, his face taut, drinking in this surreal scene. "Damn—this is—unexpected," he whispered, looking down at the figure. His expression darkened as he knelt to check on the body—the empty, pale skin almost too lifeless, too sunken.The officer leaning next to him stammered, hunching forward with a scrunched up face. "Uh… this body's been dead for days, maybe weeks. Look at the skin—this is beyond recent." He looked up at Travis and Laura, his face contorted in puzzlement. "How could he… he shouldn't be moving, let alone standing."A paramedic knelt beside the body, shining a flash-light over the man's sunken face and clothes, his gloved hands poking gingerly at his stiff limbs. "There's no question," he muttered, shaking his head. "This level of decomp—it can't be staged. He's been dead for at least ten days.”Laura's heart beat harder. Her gaze flew to Travis, who stared back at her, face taut, lips pressed tight. In the back of her mind, a terrible certainty began to take shape. Whatever had been lurking out there in the camp, whispering in their ears, was no prankster.Denis's face whitened as he at last looked up at his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and stared on hard at the corpse, lips pursed into a grim line."This is… this is Ethan Harper," Denis finally muttered, his voice shaking. "He's… one of the hunters we reported missing."Travis's face changed; fear flared in his eyes. He swallowed hard, fingers digging deeper into Laura's shoulder as if anchoring himself. "Denis, if that's Harper, then his daughter—"Laura's heart raced as realization dawned on her, turning to Travis almost curtly. Her stomach twisted with the thought: if Ethan was here, dead and possessed, who was to say his daughter wasn't already at the camp, lurking in the shadows? Her gaze darted around, landing on the salt-filled shelves. She moved full of purpose, grabbing every package within reach and stuffing them into her arms.Denis looked up, frowning, as she gathered the salt. "Wait, where are you going? Both of you, you're witnesses here. I need you to stay put. We need statements, and this… whatever this is, isn't something we can just brush off.”"Denis, I understand," Travis said, voice tight but modulated. He took a scan of the chaotic scene around him before hunching a little closer in. "But you've got cameras in here. You can see what happened for yourself—go through the footage. And if Harper's here…" He stared Denis dead in the eye. "His daughter could be at the camp. I can't leave those kids unprotected.”Denis cursed, his brow furrowed in an attempt to keep up with the unfolding chaos. "I can’t just—”"Think about it," Travis urged, his tone low and insistent. "Look at him—Ethan's dead. Decomposing. And yet he tried to kill us. Whatever's going on here, it's beyond what any of us have dealt with. You have what you need, and we need to get back. You know what has been going on in the camp for weeks, and we suspected the Harpers to be just pranksters. He has tried to shoot at us and I'm sure it was his daughter the one that has been seen in the camp. I have sixty kids there, without a phone or outside communication. They are sitting ducks!"Denis looked from the dead body to the two of them, then back again at the broken door and bloodless-streaked floor. Every single instinct was telling him to keep them here, to secure this scene, get answers from them. Still, he knew Travis, knew that when his old partner spoke with this kind of conviction, he wasn't wrong.“As soon as those kids are safe, I’m going to the station—both of us are. You will get your witnesses, but I need to make sure there is not another bloodbath at Hackett’s Quarry.”"Alright," Denis growled, his voice tight. "But I am going to expect a full statement. No running off for good this time, understand?" He nodded at Travis. "You keep an eye on those kids. I'll get there as soon as I've finished here.”Travis gave a curt nod, already moving as Laura jammed the remaining packages of salt into a paper bag. “Give me your wallet,” Laura asked. Travis didn’t even think, just handed it to her. She reached into her pocket, pulling out all the cash she and Travis had pooled together, dropping it onto the counter without a word.Denis watched them, frustration and concern battling in his gaze. He gave them one last look as they headed for the door. "Be careful out there. If you find anything… if you figure out what's going on… let me know. Don't let it catch you off guard, Sheriff."Travis nodded and, without another word, they hurried out of the store, practically falling into the car in their rush. The weight of all that just transpired hung heavy in the air between them as Laura tossed the salt bags into the back seat.Travis climbed behind the wheel, his hands clenching on the hard material, a sheen of perspiration on his brow. "We're going to go back to that camp, and we aren't going to let anything happen to those kids," he muttered in a low tone, reassuring himself no less than her.Laura laid a comforting hand on his arm and had a steady voice. “Whatever it takes.”They looked at each other, then Travis fired up and hit the road, urgency in every mile.Laura didn't waste another moment; she leaned over, picking her small bag up from the passenger seat floor. She put it on her lap and started to search through the contents within until her fingers brushed against the familiar spine of a small, red diary. Pulling it out, she flipped it open, her movements sharp and deliberate. Her brow furrowed as she rifled through the pages, muttering softly under her breath, tension radiating off her.She stopped abruptly, her finger stabbing at one page. "Revenants: spirits of the vengeful dead, brought back to this world by an unfulfilled purpose or the weight of violent death. Often tethered to an object, place, or memory, revenants are relentless," she said, her voice flat and grim. "They don't stop, not until their unfinished business is resolved—or they are destroyed. Signs of a revenant include physical manifestation through dense mist, an unnatural chill, and the ability to interact with the living world in destructive ways."Travis shot her a sharp look. "That's what's chasing us?" His voice was low, edged with a mix of disbelief and unease."Yes," Laura said shortly. "I'm sure of it.""And how exactly do you know that?" His eyes flicked to the diary in her hands, narrowing slightly. She had already showed it to him, he just wasn't aware of all the information within those pages.Laura's lips twitched for the briefest second, but the tension in her shoulders didn't ease. "When I tried to find ways to protect myself from Silas—and to figure out other people's methods for killing werewolves—I ended up deep-diving into research. I wanted to understand as much as I could, not just about werewolves, but about everything else that might be out there. After everything that happened, I just had this feeling that there was more. So when we decided to… give ourselves some space, I went back to it. And, well…"She flipped to another page, the sound of paper turning stark in the silence. "I wrote it all down for you," she went on, quieter but no less intense. "I thought if I'd found this while we were still… talking, I'd have told you about it. But we weren't so I was just planning on showing it to you afterwards."Travis swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he glanced though the corner of his eye at the pages filled with scrawled notes, diagrams, and maps. The image of Laura, alone, writing as if to reach out to him, twisted something deep in his chest."Alright," he muttered, forcing his focus back. "What else did you find? How do we deal with this thing?"Laura scanned the text, her voice steady but weighted. "Revenants feed on negative emotions. Grief, guilt, anger—anything raw and unresolved. It's like fuel for them. The more they feed, the stronger they get.""So… what? It's been feeding on us on our bad emotions?"Realization hit her like a sledge to the chest. Her eyes widened, the color draining from her face. "Travis, the ghost stories—the ones the campers tell every summer. All the rumors, all the terrified kids—"Travis straightened in his seat, his pulse quickening. "What about them?"“They’ve been feeding it," she said, her voice trembling with urgency. "All those stories, all the whispers, the fear—the kids have been unknowingly fueling it. It’s made it strong enough to manifest—strong enough to possess a dead body.” She hesitated, her voice dipping lower. "When I first saw it in the petrol station—there was this voice, this feeling. I've heard it before.""What sort of voice?" he asked, his tone cut off, attempting to seem composed as the hairs on the back of his neck stood upright.Her gaze darted toward the trees. "Something angry— It called us 'murderers'."Her words hung in the air, a weight between them. He stared ahead, his jaw clenched, thoughts whirling in a chaotic spiral."Murderers," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Who the hell would call us that?"Laura didn't respond for a moment. She just stared out at the trees, their shadows flickering in the car lights as the vehicle rolled on. "We didn't murder the counselors," she said at last, her voice hard and defensive. "That wasn't on us. It wasn't—" She caught herself, the words dying off into the weighted silence.Travis looked at her, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a hard line. "A parent," he muttered, almost to himself. "Maybe someone who lost a kid here… sent this thing after us.""It doesn't make sense, they would have gone for—" she closed her mouth, Travis knew as well as her how that sentence finished. It would have gone for the other Hacketts, not them."What if it's coming for us because we didn't get punished?" Travis asked. They fell into a heavy silence, both of their minds reeling with the possibilities. It wasn't until Laura's fingers brushed the edges of the diary that the pieces began to fall into place."There's only one person we both— murdered." Her voice cracked on the last word as she turned to look at him, her eyes scanning his face for confirmation.Travis didn't say a word at first; his jaw was clenched tight, his face unreadable. He didn't want to say the name, didn't want to give weight to the memory clawing its way to the surface. It wasn't until he finally spoke, with a hollow voice, that made this real. "Silas."A shiver coursed through Laura's spine at the mention of the name. The White Wolf. The beginning and end of everything that had brought them here."It's Eliza," she whispered, her throat dry. "The Hag of Hackett's Quarry. It must have started that night, but now we are closer enough for her to attack. And she wasn't strong enough either, not until now."Travis let out a sudden exhalation, and the memories of that night just flooded him—the screams, the blood, the desperation. The rage. "After we killed Silas," he said, his voice strained, "we heard her. That scream. It wasn't just grief—it was a curse.""Yeah," Laura agreed grimly. "And now she's making good on it."The weight of the revelation pressed down on them both, and the air in the car seemed to grow colder. Travis's mind reeled, putting the dots together: the voice calling them murderers, the campers' stories feeding the ghost's strength, the restless energy that had seemed to haunt the camp since summer began. It all came back to that one night, that one choice.Her words were like a blow to his solar plexus. A slow, dawning realization began to creep over him, chilling him to the core.Travis's grip on the steering wheel jerked tighter as his knuckles turned white, the truth settling in. Memories clawed their way to the front of his mind, jerking him back to lonely days at Hackett's Quarry, at the old house as he emptied it. Life had been sucked from the house, leaving it feeling like a tomb: silent, cold, suffocating.He remembered the silhouettes he would catch out of the corner of his eye as he walked the halls with boxes, fleeting shadows that never seemed to be there when he turned. At first, he'd brushed them off as tricks of the light or his own exhaustion. But then came the voices in his head.Low, insidious whispers that seemed to echo from the walls themselves, coiling around his thoughts like a noose. Check the basement, they murmured, over and over, the same cruel suggestion masquerading as a command, as a plea. The voice wasn't his—it was too sharp, too venomous, and filled with a sense of gleeful malice.Those whispers played on his deepest fears. They tugged at his guilt and uncertainty, whispering lies wrapped in half-truths: She's still down there. You never really let her go. The words chewed at him until he found himself standing over the trapdoor to the basement more than once, his hand hovering over the lock, his chest tight with doubt and dread.Even after the house was almost cleared out and the last remnants of his family's life boxed up or thrown away, the whispers didn't cease. Louder in the empty rooms, more insistent amidst the hollow silences, the figures he had dismissed as mere shadows began to take on a semblance of watching him.And after Laura had come back to camp, the voices had twisted. They weren’t commands anymore; they were taunts. They whispered when he saw her with the other counselors, laughing and at ease in a way she never had been with him.
She’s happier now. You know that, don’t you? She doesn’t need you anymore.
It was when those thoughts turned darker that Travis really began to feel their weight. She was safer in the basement. You should've kept her there. It's where she belongs—with you. The thought was churning in his stomach; his fingers began to shake before he gripped the wheel tighter. That wasn't his thoughts. Of that, he was sure. But alone in quiet moments, under exhaustion and guilt, they had felt so real. So loud.
Those whispers weren't him.
Anger boiled through him, hot and relentless, constricting his chest. His blood seared with the truth of it—this wasn't some lingering guilt or insecurity. It was her. Eliza. Manipulating him, preying on his fears, fanning the flames of his anger, of his despair and solace. Of his guilt."Travis?" The sound of Laura's voice cut into his spiraling thoughts, wrenching him back into the here and now. Her hand lay softly on his arm, holding him in place. "What's wrong?""She's been in Hackett's Quarry all along," Travis growled. His voice was low and rumbling, full of fury. The veins of his hand standing out against his knuckles as resolve hardened.Laura turned sharply toward him, her face pale but fierce. "What are you talking about?""That voice in my head," he said through gritted teeth, his words deliberate and heavy. "It's been there for months. A sick thought I couldn't shake. It wasn't me. It was her. She's been trying to twist me, to make me hurt you, hurt myself—to go back to the trapdoor."Laura's breath caught, and her hands tightened on the edges of the diary as if anchoring herself. "It was feeding off you," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Slowly, when you were here alone. And then the summer camp started, it must have been like an all-you-can-eat buffet for her."Travis's jaw clenched, his brow furrowed as he stared at the road ahead. "We need to stop her," he said, his voice unwavering. "Before she takes anything else from us. We need to get to the lodge and get everybody out of there.""I'll talk with the counselors. We're not going to let anything happen to the kids."Travis pressed harder on the gas, surging forward into the shadows of the forest as both of them prepared for what lay ahead.As the quarry loomed closer, the oppressive weight in the air grew heavier, and the path seemed darker than it should have been. But neither spoke. There was nothing left to say.They had to end this.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
By the time they reached the lodge, the sky was deepening into shades of pink and purple, the fading light casting an urgency over everything. Laura barely had time to catch her breath before Travis was out of the car, his expression grim, his tone sharp as he gave instructions."Get inside and tell everyone to start loading the kids onto the bus," he ordered. "I'm going to check the cabins myself. I want everyone in the parking lot in thirty minutes."Laura nodded tightly, recognizing the seriousness of this. She ran to the lodge, two steps at a time, her heart racing. When the time she got inside the counselors and the staff were already gathering inside, getting ready for dinner. “Listen, everyone!" Laura shouted above the din, stepping further into the room. "We are going to carry out a last minute activity in town. I need all of you to start getting the kids organized and onto the bus outside. Nobody leaves the lodge area until instructed to, got it?”A couple of staff members and counselors came closer to her, asking for some clarification. Laura just gave a quick description of how one of the missing people attacked them in the gas station and how his daughter was missing. A daughter that checked a lot of the boxes from the descriptions that had been circulating in the camp. She omitted anything paranormal; nobody would believe her anyway. A flurry of activity followed: counselors rounding up campers, making sure they were all accounted for. The kids were talkative and excited, taking this like another of those night adventures. Staff and counselors were trying to make it look like, as much as possible, as some really funny activity so as to not to scare the kids while gathering them all together.As Laura helped round up the last of the younger campers, Travis returned from his sweep of the cabins behind a small group. His face was lined with concern."How's it looking?" he asked her, voice low as he quickly scanned the area."They're getting them loaded up now," she replied. "Everyone Is accounted for… but we need to do another swap to confirm."Just then, one of the counselors, Peter, approached them, clipboard in hand, his face a mask of worry. "Mr. T," he said, voice worried, "we have a problem. Three of the kids… they're missing. They're not on the bus, and we haven't seen them in the lodge either."Travis's face tensed, a muscle working in his jaw as he took the clipboard and scanned the list. "Who are we missing?" His voice was calm, but Laura could hear the tension running just under the surface.Peter swallowed, looking down at his notes. "Two boys—Little Eddy and Sam—and one girl, Lilly. They were last seen heading toward the lake for an afternoon activity, other kids say, but nobody's seen them since then.”A cold dread was beginning to settle in Laura's stomach. The lake was fairly near the woods, and after all they'd been through, the thought of three kids wandering alone anywhere near the forest in the dying light was almost more than she could stand.More with a dangerous spirit on the loose. Travis turned to the assembled group of counselors by the bus door. "I need everyone's help here. We're going to search the area around the lake, the trails and the cabins one more time. We need to find them now. Go in groups of two and if you see somebody that you don't recognize; do not engage. Come to me immediately."Laura reached out and put a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly when the rest spread. "What's the plan once we've got everyone?"Travis breathed out, then looked up, at how the sky was darkening fast. "We'll get everyone on the bus, then head out to the Harbinger Motel for now. It's close enough for a quick trip, and we can all regroup there while I round up some reinforcements from town and call their parents. They can sleep there for tonight if needed. First, though, we need to find those kids.""Let's go," Laura said, her voice steady, but her eyes gave away her concern.She strode through the campgrounds, the circle of her flashlight cutting through the twilight as it scanned every shadow and rustling bush in methodical rakes across the grounds. Her heart was racing with urgency, her mind whirling with every possibility. She yelled their names into the cooling evening air, her voice firm but an edge of desperation underlying it. She could even heard other counselors and staff calling for them in the distance. She moved along the trails, peering underneath picnic tables, behind old canoes in the boat shed, and even in the area surrounding the firepit. Every creak of a branch or flicker of movement would have her spinning, pulse quickening with hope and fear, only to deflate again when nothing materialized.She thought of the map of the camp—the trails, the cabins, the hidden corners of Hackett's Quarry that someone like those kids, adventurous and curious, might explore. As the minutes dragged like hours, Laura entered into denser forest around the property's edge. The air here was heavier with a weird silence, leaning against her as some physical weight would. She stepped with glistening care over gnarled roots, clenching on the flashlight tightly. Her back had grown moistly wet even though the night breeze was cool.A sudden snap of a twig behind her had her whirling, the flashlight beam catching on the blank stare of a frightened deer before it hightailed it into the brush. She put a hand over her chest, palming the racing of her heart down, and plunged onward.Finally, just as the weight of dread began to threaten to crush her completely, she saw movement in the distance. A pale flash of Heather's distinctive black hair and two smaller figures stumbling along beside her. The relief was instantaneous but short-lived—Heather was running straight toward Laura, and fear was stark on her face.“Laura," she called out, her tone edged with fear. "I found these two—they were hiding near the edge of the woods. They said they were on their way to the old witch house… Sam kept saying he thought his mom was there. They only made it to the outside and got spooked, but Sam… he's still inside.”Laura felt her stomach drop. Sam had been vulnerable enough without this, and now he was lost and alone in that house. "Alright. Get these two onto the bus and find Mr. T. I'm going after Sam."The reality was setting in over her like a sheet of ice. Sam, fragile and scared, having lost a piece of his world already by losing his mother, was lost inside that house—a house she had started to suspect it wasn't empty, a house which had been swallowing shadows and silence for far too long.Something was inside that house. Deep down, she could feel it in her gut, her instincts screaming louder with every second. This would just be the type of place Eliza Voraz would hide in. Or worse, it was the type of place she'd use to lure others in—to entrap them, to destroy them.To fulfill her revenge.Laura's legs were running without any other thought; her boots slamming into the ground as she bolted for the lodge, adrenaline firing every nerve. There was little time, she knew that much. Whatever had been in that house would not be waiting very long, and she needed to be quicker and smarter.Her mind was racing as fast as her feet. She knew a great many stories, enough pieces of folklore, to know one thing—she needed protection. Eliza wasn't a ghost; she was something more feral, something more dangerous. And if Sam was inside, he was her priority. But Laura wasn't going in unarmed.She reached the lodge and didn't bother slowing as she charged up the front steps, taking them two at a time. The creak of the wooden planks beneath her went unnoticed; her only focus was what she needed. Inside, the dimly lit entry was quieter than usual, save for the hushed murmurs of a few counselors still combing the area for what they thought were three missing kids.Laura ignored them and went straight to the kitchen. She was breathing hard, her chest heaving from the run, but her steps were purposeful, every second crucial. Reaching the storage room just off the kitchen, her eyes zeroed in on the large, commercial-sized sack of salt. She grasped it tightly, tugging it into her arms with a grunt. It was heavy, and it cut into her forearms, but she didn't care.The weight of the sack pressed against her ribs, and she turned, heading for the door. Her breathing was short and sharp as her resolution set in. Whatever Eliza had in store, whatever lay in wait for her in that accursed house, Laura was going to walk right into its jaws. But this time, she would not be caught unprepared."Laura!" Nuria's voice came from the hallway, with Jack close behind, both staring at the heavy bag in her hands. "What the hell is that for?" Nuri asked, brow furrowed."They've found two of the missing kids," Laura replied, her voice steely with urgency. "But Sam… Sam's gone to the old Hackett house. I need to get there, now."Jack's eyes went wide while Nuria seemed to grow only more confused. "But why do you need salt?" she persisted.Laura sighed in frustration. "It's—complicated. There's no time to explain."Nuria didn't need any further encouragement. "Fine. Then we're coming with you." And with that, she and Jack disappeared briefly, only to pop back a few seconds later—Jack slinging yet another big bag of salt over his shoulder, and Nuri next to him.They hastened towards Travis's car. Then, out of nowhere, a voice spoke up from behind."Wait up!" Heather trotted up to them, jogged to a stop, and approached them. Her face was taut with strain but her mind was made up. "I left the other two kids on the bus. I'm coming along with you to get Sam."“Have you found Mr. T to tell them where we are going?”“I couldn’t find him, I told the others so he will know when he shows up.”"Heather—" Laura began, but Heather cut her off."Just shut up and drive. I’m not leaving him in that house alone for one minute longer," Heather snapped, yanking open the back door and climbing inside.Laura hesitated for a moment, her hand lingering on the door. She glanced at Nuria, who offered a reassuring nod, urging her on. With a deep breath, Laura slid into the driver’s seat, her hands tightening on the wheel.Nuria climbed into the passenger seat beside her, while Jack and Heather crammed into the back, the bags of salt stuffed into every spare corner.Laura stared at the dashboard, her fingers twitching. The keys. Where could they be?A memory stirred in her mind. Would Travis have done the same as Bobby did with the keys of his dad's truck?"Does Mr. T. knows we are taking his car, right?" Came Jack's question from the back seat."Yeah, why not," Laura said dismissably before leaning down, her heart racing. Her hands fumbled blindly under the seat, the rough fabric scratched her knuckles, but she kept searching, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.And then she felt it.The cool, unmistakable touch of metal against her fingertips. She froze for a second, disbelieving, before curling her fingers around the small, familiar shape. Pulling it out into the dim light, Laura stared at the key in her hand, her chest tightening."Everything okay?" Nuria asked, eyeing her curiously.Laura straightened, jamming the key into the ignition and twisting it. The engine roared to life, its sound filling the tense silence inside the car."Yeah," she said, her voice tight but steady. "Let's go."The car jolted forward, the headlights cutting through the twilight as they sped down the road. Heather's voice piped up from the back, sharp and annoyed."Seriously, why all the salt?"Laura didn't answer. Her mind was already on the old Hackett house, and on the miles disappearing under the wheels. Every second counted, and she wasn't going to waste a single one. By the time Travis finally returned to the lodge after inspecting the cabins, the counselors were already there around the bus’ door, talking with each other and keeping their eyes in the woods. The moment he reached them, one stepped forward, the words tumbling out in a hushed hurry."Mr. T, we found Edward and Lilly but Sam is still missing. Heather said he went to the old Hackett's house,” Trevor said. “The kids told us Sam's still there—he went looking for his mom."Travis felt his pulse spike. He turned back to the counselors, voice now sharp with authority. "Get everyone on the bus and start driving. Take them to the Harbinger Motel and call the police station. Talk with Sheriff Whitlock. He'll know what to do.”He turned around to where he parked his car just to find an empty spot. “Where the— where is my car?” he turned around, pointing at the empty space. “We saw a bunch of counselors take it, I think they went to the house to go and find him.”“How they got my—” he has the spare under his front seat, like Bobby had it on his parents truck. It was a family thing. It was something only the Hackett’s knew. The Hacketts and Laura Fucking Kearney. “Fucking kids,” he cursed out loud. With one last, tense look at the counselors, he turned and made his way to the small four-wheeler beside the lodge. He climbed in, started the engine, and tore down the dirt path toward his parent's house, his mind full of fear and resolution.The only thing he could think about was finding Sam—and getting Laura back in one piece so he could rip her a new one for stealing his shit.Travis silently ticked off the list of crimes Laura had managed to rack up in less than an hour: car theft, breaking and entering into his family house, leaving the campgrounds without permission, and flagrantly disregarding every damn rule he had painstakingly laid out for the summer. Not to mention heading straight for the one place he had explicitly forbidden anyone to go.The vehicle rattled as Travis took hold of the wheel and pushed it to its limits. This thing was slower than his car, too damn slow, and each second that passed clawed at his nerves. He sped through the winding forest path, with every bump and rock jarring him, but he did not ease off the gas. His breath was shallow; there was ice in his veins.She was never to get close to that place again.
Laura Kearney was never to set foot in that godforsaken house, ever again.
The trees seemed to grow taller, casting jagged shadows that slithered across the narrow path as the forest grew darker around him. The air hung heavy and suffocating, weighted silence pressing in like a coiled predator. His grip on the wheel tightened as the faint rustle of leaves turned into whispers, faint and teasing at the edge of his hearing, like something watching him—waiting.Then the moon, from behind thick clouds, cast its pale glow through the breaks in the canopy.
Full moon.
It hit him like a gut punch, that chill, deep-in-the-bones knowledge of its importance. The Hackett family's legacy—the curse that had defined so much of their lives, of his life. For years, his every move had been tied to the lunar cycle, to that relentless ticking clock in the sky. Muscle memory dictated he count the days, prepare for the night monsters emerged.But now? Now, he couldn't even remember the last time he'd followed it.A bitter laugh clawed at his throat, but he didn't let it escape. He'd stopped marking the full moon after Silas, after the bloodshed ended. After Laura. She had been the one who made him forget to dread it, who taught him to live without that ever-present shadow looming over him. Yet here it was, glaring at him through the trees, dragging him back to the horrors of his past.The icy knot in his chest constricted. The full moon wasn't just a symbol of his family's curse anymore—it was a warning. A reminder of what waited in the dark.And right now, it was the last thing he needed.Travis swallowed hard as his gaze flickered from the twisting path to the luminous sphere above, lighting them like a stage. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed, like everything that they buried together was raising to hunt them again. His foot pressed harder on the gas, the rattling engine protesting, but he didn't care. Every second counted, each shadow a possible threat.When he reached the clearing of his family house's, his heart lurched. His own car was parked haphazardly near the door, and an unsettling scene unfolded before him. Three of his counselors, pale-faced and jittery, were carrying bags of what he guessed was salt, leaving trails around the perimeter of the house in a frantic, haphazard line. Nuria spotted him first and, abandoning her task, ran up to him as he came out the vehicle.“Where is Laura? What the hell is happening?” His hand gripped her arm, holding on as much to her as to his own dwindling sense of control.Nuria’s eyes were wide, her voice shaky. “She went inside,” she stammered, darting a glance at the house as though it might come alive and swallow them both. “She told us to make a salt circle around the place. She wouldn’t let us in. She just told us to…to keep going, and that she’d be right back out.”And she just believed her?Travis’s stomach twisted. He gave her a curt nod, his jaw set. “Keep doing exactly as she said. Don’t stop, no matter what, and be ready to run to the car when we get out.”Without waiting for a reply, he released the hold over her army and ran up to the house, his pulse hammering in his ears. The front door groaned as he shoved it open. Shadows clung to every corner, an oppressive darkness thickening the air around him. He tried the light switch, but of course, nothing happened.
The power had been shut off months ago.
“Laura!” His voice echoed through the empty, lifeless rooms as he made his way down the hall, his footsteps reverberating against the hollow floorboards. He moved through each room, calling her name, the silence that followed a sinister kind of reply.He searched every room he came across—the dusty parlor, the broken-down kitchen—each one more decrepit than the last. The walls seemed to pulse, alive with the past, each creak of the floorboards beneath his feet like a whispered reminder of everything that had happened here. The air grew colder, his breath forming wisps of mist as he pressed forward, fear tightening his chest with each empty room.Then, he heard it—a faint sound, somewhere deep within the house. Muffled cries, raw and broken, coming from below. His heart dropped as he realized where she must be.
Not there, God, please, not there.
He tore down the corridor, every footfall a thunderous reminder of how wrong this all was, until he reached the dining room. The once-grand space was now a hollow shell, its walls stripped and decayed, the worn table missing from its prominent spot. And there, in the center of the room, lay the trapdoor, yawning open like the mouth of some hungry beast.A chill washed over him as he stared at the open hatch, his worst fears clawing to the surface. Laura's screams and sobs rose from the bottom of the trapdoor, raw and piercing; every cry drove through him like a blade. She was screaming for him, begging for him to save her. Travis recoiled, his heart bucking against his ribs as the past welled up, unwanted and insistent: the red room, that sweltering, metallic cell in which they had been prisoners for months, fuming and writhing in agony. He remembered the break in her voice when she screamed for her freedom, her fists pounding on the cell walls during the first couple of days, fear and defiance alive in her eyes. The cries from below now came with the same desperation, raw and unfiltered, his mind filling with flashes of her trapped in that godforsaken place: the endless red light, cold bars of metal, the silence that only their screams could pierce.But now, here, there were no bars, only darkness, stretching down into the unknown. He could almost see her reaching for him, her face twisted in terror, pleading as she had in that cell when his father's shotgun pointed at her. This time it was different. This time he was on the other side of the cell, this time he could get her out.“Laura!” he shouted, the panic thick in his voice as he peered into the dark void beneath.Travis took a deep breath, about to step down into the darkness of the trapdoor when a set of hands grabbed him hard, yanking him backward with sudden force. He stumbled to the floor, his back landing against something soft and warm. Blinking, he found himself pressed up against Laura, her chest rising and falling as she clutched him, her skin pale and her eyes wide with terror. She was shaking, visibly rattled, her gaze fixed on the black hole beneath them.Her voice, hollow and raw, trembled in a whisper. “I don’t know who the fuck is down there… but it’s not me.”He turned to look at her, confusion mixing with fear, and then his eyes shifted to the door of the room, where he saw Sam, standing wide-eyed, his face streaked with tears, his small body trembling as he clutched the doorframe, barely holding himself together.A piercing scream erupted from the depths of the trapdoor, cutting through the silence. The sound, sharp and unnatural, sent an icy bolt of fear down Travis’s spine. Then, from below, came a furious, pounding noise, as if something massive were hurtling toward them, claws scraping and thudding against the floorboards.“Murderers!”In a single, horrifying moment, a figure clawed its way out from the darkness of the trapdoor and seized Travis's legs. He caught a glimpse of the thing—Erica Harper, or what had once been her. She was in a four legged position, like an animal. Her skin was pale and taut, stretched too tight across her face, her eyes blank and glassy, pupils too large and fixed, he could even see the freckle on her disfigured face. Her fingers, twisted and broken, were clamped onto him, nails digging into his flesh with unnatural strength. A gaping, hollow expression was frozen on her face, as if she were trapped within herself, a mere puppet pulled by invisible strings. Like a mute scream that never got released. She was the spitting image of the Death card from a Tarot’s deck shuffled into a living thing— a skeletal wraith creeping from the shadows, carrying with it an aura of decay and the stench of something long since dead.Travis gasped, panic flaring as he stood frozen looking at this hellish creature.Before he could react, Laura stood up and her boot connected with the figure’s face in a powerful, merciless kick. The revenant lurched backward, her grip slipping off Travis as she tumbled back into the darkness below. Laura pounced on the trapdoor, slamming it shut with a furious determination, her whole body pressing down on it as if the weight of her fury could keep whatever was inside from escaping.“Grab Sam!” she barked, her voice strained and barely steady.Travis didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, crawling to a standing position to scoop Sam up into his arms, holding him tightly as they all bolted towards the hall. Just as he reached for the knob, it twisted and locked, a cold gust of air rushing past them as if the house itself had come alive to trap them within."It’s locked!" he shouted, his voice edged with desperation as he pulled uselessly at the handle. A guttural hiss emerged from behind them, followed by a violent rattling. “Murderers!”"Run!" Laura screamed, pushing Travis and Sam towards another corridor.They sprinted, their footsteps echoing in the empty, dusty house as they tore through rooms and down darkened corridors. Shadows stretched and twisted around them, the dim light casting an eerie glow across peeling wallpaper and broken furniture. Travis could hear the relentless pounding behind them—the monster was following, growing faster, its furious snarls getting closer with each step. They darted around corners, scrambling up the creaky, narrow staircase as the walls seemed to close in on them, the air growing thick with a sense of suffocating dread.“She is crawling on the walls!” Sam screamed, eyes fixed in some spot behind Laura’s back.“Close your eyes,” she ordered, a shiver running through her spine. “Here, on the left,” Travis said, volting towards the room with Laura following fast behind. The heavy door slammed shut behind them, and they were plunged into a stale, dark room; the deafening thud that reverberated through the area seemed to seal their doom. Travis' heart was racing with every frantic glance around, searching for a way out. Sam clung to his neck, shivering, his eyes wide with fear as they darted at each shadow that flickered across the walls. A sickly, oppressive silence fell over them, only broken by the faint, crackling sound that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.Then, through the stillness, a voice floated—insufferably fully packed with familiarity that ran their blood cold.
Eliza.
"Murderers." The voice echoed, curling around them like a suffocating mist. "You killed my boy… you think you can run from what you did?”Laura froze, her face tightening as that voice continued on— the malice so palpable, the sound echoing through the walls as though it were coming from the very bones of the house."Murderers," Eliza's voice whispered once more, each word closer than the last; her tone sounding like fingernails on a chalkboard, scraping against their minds.Travis felt his stomach turn, a sick sort of dread twisting through him as he clamped his hands around Sam protectively. He stood side by side with Laura, not able to perceive where the danger was coming from so he could step in between them. Laura was white-faced, but her expression didn't falter, defiant and fierce. She wouldn't be rattled by the voice, not now, not after everything they'd been through.“You think I don't see you? That I don't know the sins you carry?" Eliza's voice was growing harsher, accusing, as her venomous hiss circled them in a predator's playful game with its prey. "You cannot hide.”The air grew thick, cold, pressing down on them with the weight of one thousand judgments. Laura shook herself, her eyes scanning the walls, desperate for any sign of an escape. "We need to get out, now," she whispered, her voice barely more than a sigh.Travis nodded, his jaw clenching as he scanned the space. Then, in the dark corner of the room, barely visible under the dim light, he saw a thin door— a secret exit that was almost obscured from view."Over there!" he hissed, pointing at the door.Laura didn't hesitate. She plunged forward, as they ran across the room, at every step harassed by the disapproving voice of Eliza."Run, little mice," Eliza crooned, her voice shifting, sharpening, each word dripping with cruel satisfaction. "Run, while you can. But you'll never be free of me. Never."They staggered through the doorway, Laura's hands shaking as he fumbled with the handle, heart pounding against her chest. She gave it a wrenching twist and yanked it open; in one second they were bursting into the narrow passage beyond, and into the oppressive darkness once again, swallowed whole as they ran; the haunting echo of Eliza's voice fading behind them.Laura kept staring at Travis's back, where every slight stumble, every wavering step seemed magnified. She saw it now—the slow gnawing of exhaustion on his strength, the clutch of his arms around Sam as if sheer will could keep him upright. Cradling the child like precious cargo, he pressed the small body close as his arms began to shake under the weight. The strain etched lines of weariness into his face, his jaw clenched tight as they moved as fast as possible through the house's narrow corridors.Though small, the kid was practically dead weight in Travis's arms after all this running, but Laura knew she couldn't carry Sam herself—she'd only slow them down even further and thus make them an easy target. She wheeled around, her heart racing, half-expecting some ungodly crawling or lurching terror to come after them. Every creak and groan of the old house seemed to tighten the strings of her nerves, but her focus remained steadfast with Travis. He needed to get out before his arms gave out completely under Sam's weight."Come on, Travs," she whispered to herself, her urging eyes scanning their path. "Just a little farther." She could only hope they would reach outside before he couldn't hold Sam anymore, or before the horror chasing them did catch up.At the top of the stairs, they reached a narrow landing filled with a tangle of broken furniture and abandoned boxes. Laura yanked open a door to a small, decrepit bedroom, gesturing for them to get inside. Travis pushed in, barely able to steady his breath as he lowered Sam to the floor, his mind reeling as he turned to help Laura barricade the door. Together they heaved an old dresser and a splintered chair against it, piling everything they could find to reinforce their barrier.Travis's heart pounded loudly in his ears, drowning out nearly every other sound. He cast a sideways glance at Laura; her face was set with fierce determination, but he caught the faint shadow of fear flickering beneath her hardened expression.Laura didn't look at him, her focus locked on the door as she jammed an old chair against it, her breaths coming fast and shallow."How do we stop her?""Fire or salt," Laura said, frustration cracking her voice. "I don't have holy water, and I sure as hell don't know how to do an exorcism." She adjusted the barricade with shaking hands, her eyes darting to the door. "The line of salt outside the house should hold her—keep her trapped. But we have to get across it first. Then we can call someone who knows what the hell they're doing.""But we need to get out first," Travis said, his voice low and grim."But we need to get out first," Laura repeated as an affirmation. She nodded, swallowing hard. "She's bound herself to this place, probably because it terrifies us the most. It's not just revenge—it's about making us suffer. For what I've seen her doing; she wants us back in that basement. To trap us. To make us relive it. The fear, the guilt—Keeps her strong. And she's not stopping until she gets what she wants."From the other side, the creature slammed into the door with a force that made the wood shudder, its shrieks filling the room like the cries of something far more monstrous. Travis raised an arm in front of Laura and made them back off from the door. The sound of splintering wood mixed with Sam’s frightened whimpers, the boy clinging to Travis’s arm as the banging intensified. The door began to buckle, pieces of the frame splintering, leaving gaping holes through which they could glimpse those lifeless eyes and gnashing teeth.Laura grabbed him, urgency in her eyes as she motioned toward the window. “We’re going out that way. You first, with Sam.”Travis hesitated, staring at her. “What about you?”“I’m right behind you, but we need to take Sam away from here and I can’t carry him,” she assured him, forcing a tight smile as she pried the window open. “Go. Now.”With a quick, reluctant nod, he helped Sam climb out first, then swung his own legs over the edge, steadying himself on the narrow ledge as he held Sam close. Travis steadied himself on the precarious ledge, his grip firm around Sam's small frame, muscles taut as he tried to balance the boy's weight. Every nerve in his body screamed to get off the roof, but his eyes never left the window. Laura was nearly through. Relief flickered through him—until he heard it.The door inside the room splintered with a sickening crack, and the creature broke through in a twisted blur of limbs and snarling, jagged features. "Laura!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation as he lunged, hand outstretched. Every fiber in his body screamed at him to grab her, to pull her through, to keep her away from the edge of danger.Her head snapped toward him, her gaze full of fire locking onto his. "Go!" she barked, sharp and unwavering, a blade cut through chaos. "Get him out of here!"Before he could formulate an argument, her hands were pushing against his chest, and his world tilted. The force sent him stumbling backward, his boots skidding against the ledge as gravity took hold.For one weightless second, there was nothing but the gut-wrenching sensation of weightlessness. His heart lurched violently, the ground hurtling toward him in a dizzying blur of shadow and moonlight.He gasped, his voice sounding like a raw animal cry that was torn from his lungs as he fell.And then the impact came. The world punched into him with cruel vehemence, a shock and bone-jolting collision that sucked the breath right from his chest and send agonizing shockwaves of pain across each screaming nerve. He landed on the ground flat on his back; with the weight of Sam against him, the agony was intolerable as vision dissolved and starred out behind his eyelids and his breath was jerked away in a ragged gasp.For a heartbeat, the world was noise and chaos: his heart booming like a war drum in his ears, the faraway sound of Laura's voice, the thrum of pain clanging through ribs and spine. A scream of protest from his body as he shifted, his limbs heavy, weighed down by the force of the fall.Sam rolled off him, landing awkwardly on the ground, dazed but miraculously unharmed. Coughing, the boy blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening, while Travis lay there, his chest heaving, muscles shaking."Fucking kids," he finally managed to croak, his voice no louder than a rasp.Ignoring the searing fire coursing through his body, Travis braced trembling hands against the cold, unyielding earth. Every motion sent a sharp, glass-like pain radiating through his ribs, and his vision swam in nauseating waves. But he gritted his teeth, his jaw locking in determination as he forced himself upward.He had to get back to her. He had to make sure she was safe.A faint glimmer of movement drew his eye to the roofline, and his heart lurched violently. Laura's face appeared at the shattered window, pale and defiant, her expression fierce even as she struggled against the monstrous figure clawing at her from behind.Her eyes met his for one fleeting moment, a silent exchange of something raw and desperate, before she was yanked back into the darkness."Laura!" Travis cried, his voice cracking as he staggered fully upright, his legs trembling beneath him. The single word tore from him like a wound, but it fell into the night unanswered. She was gone, swallowed by the nightmare that had cursed his family’s bloodline."Mr. T, are you alright?" Heather's voice cut through, her hand clamping down on his arm as if to keep him upright.Travis barely registered her words, his gaze locked on the house looming in front of him like a dark wound in the landscape. Laura was still in there, fighting—pushed to her limits by something far beyond human. The memory of her gaze, the sheer force of her shove as she'd sent him and Sam out of harm's way, burned into his mind like a brand.He couldn't leave her. Not now. Not like this. Not ever.“What’s happening? Where’s Laura?" Nuria’s voice was tight with panic, her knuckles whitening around the nearly empty bag of salt she clutched in her arms.The sight of the salt jolted something in Travis's brain. His eyes sharpened, his focus snapping back into place. The salt—Laura had used it to circle the house, to trap whatever was inside, to keep it bound to the building.It couldn't leave. Hackett's Quarry has again become a prison.And that meant there was only one course of action.He turned to the group, his voice steady and commanding despite the chaos threatening to drag him under. "I need you all to get out of here," he said, reaching into his pocket to grab his wallet and pull out a creased business card. He pressed it firmly into Nuria's hand. "Take the four-wheeler, take the kid back to the lodge, grab the counselors' van, and head to the motel. The rest of the group's waiting there. Once you reach reception, call this number. Tell him there's an emergency at Hackett's Quarry. He'll know what to do."Nuria's eyes widened as she looked down at the card, the name Henry Lewis stamped on it in neat, understated letters with what looked like a governmental logo. "But—what about you? What are you going to do?"Travis's face was impassive, his expression carved from stone. His voice, though quiet, was unyielding. "I’m going back for her."The words hung in the air, heavy with conviction.He reached for the bag of salt in Nuria’s hand and turned to Jack, his gaze cutting like a blade. “Give me your lighter.”Jack blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Lighter? What lighter?”Travis’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy and clipped. "I know you’re the one smoking in the bathrooms, kid. Now, give me the goddamn lighter.”Jack flinched, fumbling into his pocket before tossing the lighter over. Travis caught it in one deft motion, nodding curtly."Now—go."His tone left little room for argument. The group hesitated, their eyes glinting with fear and uncertainty, but Heather gave him one last look, her voice shaking. "Be careful."Travis didn't respond. He was already running, his legs moving toward the car with a singular purpose.His hands worked on autopilot, tugging the toolbox from the back of the truck. His mind was buzzing with white-hot determination that drowned out the ache in his ribs and the burn in his lungs. After finding a screwdriver, he dropped to his knees beside the car.He jammed the tool into the gas tank with a sharp twist, piercing the metal open. Gasoline gushed out, pooling under the car, the acrid stench biting at his nose. He didn't flinch. Every movement was deliberate, each second spent working an act of defiance against the fear clawing at him.The image of Laura burned in his mind—her defiant eyes, her unwavering determination to protect the people she cared about.To protect him!
The fucking nerve of that woman.
He hauled himself back into the driver's seat, his fist clenching around the lighter, the metal digging into his palm like a promise he wasn't ready to break. His jaw was set, his teeth clenched tightly, and his knuckles whitened as his fingers wrapped around the wheel.His gaze fell on something laying in the passenger seat—a very familiar bag—Laura's bag. With a growl of frustration, he snatched it up, the weight of it somehow heavier with meaning. This damn bag was a piece of her; it smelled like her, held her things—another part of her he had to protect. He rolled down the window and hurled it outside where it landed with a dull thud. "Dammit, kid," he growled low, his voice raw, frustration pushing the edges of desperation.The engine roared to life, but his hand hovered over the gear shift. If Eliza had taken Laura—if this thing had dragged her to the place she feared most, the red cells in the Hackett house basement—then he needed to prepare himself. His stomach churned with the thought. If it had her down there, he'd need to be able to see, to fight.That meant he would have to turn the power back on.The weight of that realization pressed heavy on his chest. The last time he had been in that basement with the lights on, he'd regretted it more than anything in his life. But there was no choice—not this time. If Eliza was luring them into her trap, using the darkness as her ally, he'd take that advantage from her, even if it meant bringing back his worst nightmareTravis jammed the gearshift into place, gunned the engine, and was off like a shot. Failure wasn't an option—not tonight, not ever. It reeked of damp decay, the air in the trap door as it closed over her head, as Laura was being dragged deeper into the basement by that ghost. Its hands were ice-cold, skeletal fingers bruising skin as it clamped around her ankle. Her body seized up, instinctive and trying to fight the memories clawing at her—memories of those very long, torturous nights she'd spent locked away down here in the red room.
No. No, not again.
There was panic swarming in her brain as she resisted its pull, her heart hammering painfully against her chest. She felt herself tilting into the dark rim of that prison: the concrete walls, the abiding gnawing fear—all threatened to drag her under once more. This ghost tugged even stronger at her, would not let go, and pulled her across the cold, rough floor inching with every tug closer to that cellar doorway, each firing up another wave of horror.The basement was around her, swallowing her up. She could almost smell the metallic tang of her blood from the last time she'd fought in there, the heavy silence that had suffocated her each night. Laura kicked wildly, desperate to break free.
I can't go back. I can't.
It wasn't until she felt herself slipping over the threshold that everything suddenly seemed to shudder. The whole house rattled, it seemed, with a sudden quake; dust and debris rained down everywhere. The specter fumbled, the grasp faltered, and Laura seized her opportunity with all her might. Drawing on a surge of pure adrenaline, she twisted her body and drove her heel into the creature’s face with all the strength she had. Eliza reeled back, giving a shrill, inhuman shriek as it let go of her."Move." She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding as she bolted towards what she guessed was the corridor towards the trap door.But suddenly, the blinding darkness in the cellar turned red, and she froze.
Red.
The lights were on. Someone had turned the power back on.It was a brief hesitation, but long enough. A sudden, chilling wave of coldness enveloped her, and Laura whirled in time to see Eliza's unnatural leap for her with an unearthly quick motion.She kicked and twisted; her fists connected with the rotting form, but the strength of Eliza's monstrousness was overwhelming: The revenant's bony hands clamped onto her arms, nearly in a vice, hauling her toward the center of the room. Laura heaved and jerked violently, her fingernails scratching into the floor as she struggled for liberation. Her heart pounded at an incredible rate while her breaths were shallow and frightened.The cage loomed ahead—the bars shimmering faintly with the telltale glow of an electrified trap."No!" Laura screamed, her voice raw, as her heels dug into the floor, trying to stop the inevitable. She writhed against the revenant's iron grip, her body twisting in a desperate attempt to free herself. With one final burst of strength, she wrenched an arm loose and drove her elbow into Eliza's face. The creature staggered but recovered unnervingly fast, its rotting body jerking forward with unnerving precision.Eliza's claw-like hand tangled itself in Laura's hair, yanking her back with a feral force. Laura let out a strangled cry, her fingers clawing at the revenant's grip, but Eliza was relentless. With a sudden, brutal shove, Laura was forced into the cage, the bars slamming shut behind her.The hum of electricity roared to life as the walls of the cage shimmered with deadly, crackling energy. instinctively, Laura recoiled, her breathing shallow and panicked while staring at the glowing bars in pure disbelief.The air inside the cage felt cold and heavier, as if the red glow itself weighed something tangible on Laura's chest. The once cluttered space, filled with the bare essentials that to survive—their belongings, Travis's quiet reassurances—was now empty. The bed was gone; now there was just the unrelenting floor, there weren’t any boxes, no toilet, no clothesline, no pile of toiletries, change of clothes. It was just her in the vast space of the narrow metal cage. The oppressive red bathed everything, pulsating faintly, and taking with it all her hard-won strength. It clawed into her mind, pulling her back to the darkest moments she thought she'd left behind. The color, which she had fought so hard to reclaim for herself, now screamed danger and despair. Her breaths came shallow. She was alone. Completely, utterly alone. No footsteps, no quiet murmurs, no reminder of Travis or any other world than this hell. The terror she'd once overcome rushed back, like a living, breathing creature slithering into her chest, wrapping around her lungs, and making it hard to breathe.Laura fisted her hands and tried to drown the fear with the weight of her determination. She would not be broken by this cage, not again. But with the steady pulse of the red light, every heartbeat, the memory crept closer, the reminder of being trapped and powerless, like a shadow she couldn't shake.Through the haze of her panic, a dark form coalesced outside the bars. Eliza stood there, her decomposing body frozen in the dancing light. Through Erica's glassy, shattered eyes, she stared at Laura with a grotesque, hollow scream chiseled into her face. Yet, somehow, that twisted expression seemed almost a smile, a mockery of triumph as she watched Laura inside the cage. Suddenly, the trapdoor burst open, followed by swift rattling of feet down the steps.That could only be one person."No!" Laura shouted in her hoarse voice filled with terror. "Travis run! She's here! Run!"But the steps didn't falter. They grew louder, more deliberate, until the figure of Travis Hackett emerged from the shadows of the corridor into the diabolic red light. His face was grim, jaw set with tension, and his eyes sharp with determination.He didn't look like a man running away—he looked like a man heading into a fight he'd already decided he wouldn't lose.
The creature shrieked in a high-pitched howl, launching herself at him in a whirl of motion.But Travis did not back down.Timing it right, he shifted his weight and swung his fist in a smooth, practiced arc. His knuckles met the withered form with a loud impact that sent her flailing backward to the thud of a wet sloppy noise. Eliza hit the ground with a thud that nearly stole her growl off from just the force of the impact.“Damn it,” Travis muttered under his breath, shaking his fist with a grimace. His knuckles were already swelling, but he barely seemed to notice. He straightened, towering over the fallen revenant, his frame taut with a coiled tension.“You think I’m scared of you?” Travis spat, his voice low and cutting. He didn’t yell, didn’t roar—his words sliced through the air with quiet authority.Because the truth was, he wasn't afraid of Eliza, not anymore. His biggest fear, the one which had haunted him, which had kept him up at night even after their escape, even after the curse had been lifted, was already staring him in the face: Laura trapped again, back in that cage.The sight of her behind those bars, the red glow casting its merciless light over her, was the living embodiment of his worst nightmare. Any other fear—of pain, of death, of Eliza's relentless fury—diminished to insignificance in its shadow. For as long as Laura Kearney was trapped, for as long as she was hurt, nothing else could touch him. There was simply no room for fear.His jaw clenched, his eyes unflinching, staring down at the creature before him. "You have nothing left to take from me."Eliza twitched on the floor, her head snapping toward him, the glassy eyes fixed on his face. She let out a guttural growl, her broken jaw twisting into something that might have been a sneer.Travis stood his ground, his other hand lifting to reveal a small, worn bag of salt. He shook it lightly, the shifting grains the only sound in the room apart from the electrified cages.“You want revenge for your bastard son?” His voice remained calm, measured. “Come and get me.”Before Laura could scream again, warn him, before she could do anything but stare in wide-eyed desperation, Travis turned and bolted toward the other corridor leading down into the cellar."No!" Laura screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. "Travis! Don't!"But her cries faded into the chaos as the creature snarled and scrambled to its feet, chasing after him in a four-legged position with a sound that could only be described as pure animal rage.Laura's heart was racing so hard she thought it would burst. Her hands were tightly clasping in fists, her knuckles white, as she kept her gaze fixed on the corridor, calling for his name."Travis!" she screamed, her voice hoarse. Her throat burnt from the effort, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as fear and anger warred inside her.The sounds coming from the cellar were chaotic and brutal, their echoes in the silence of the house like some sort of ominous warning. Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor—sharp, frantic, and echoing with a sense of desperate urgency. There was an unmistakable sound of scuffling—flesh colliding with something solid—followed by a sharp grunt of exertion that could have belonged to none other than Travis. Somewhere far away, there was the sound of shattering glass, a sharp, final noise, as if it was the last struggle.And then, silence.A tear left Laura's eye, lowering through her cheek as she whispered a broken "no", the only audible sound.The sudden quiet was deafening, and it ratcheted up the tension in the air. Laura's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering as she strained to hear anything—a voice, a sound, some sign that Travis was still alive.A flicker appeared.Faint at first, it was a small but stubborn glow that managed to pierce through the oppression of the dark corridor. The dim light danced erratically, casting long, jagged shadows that moved with an unsettling rhythm.It grew, swelling and pulsating, the light growing in strength until it painted the walls with hues of fiery orange and molten red. The corridor seemed to come alive with the chaotic energy of the flames, their jagged tongues licking upward and outward, consuming everything in their path.And then, the explosion.The ground beneath Laura bucked violently, a deep, guttural roar tearing through the house. The force knocked her backwards, her hands scrabbling for balance as a rush of heat swept through the corridor, searing the air. Debris rained from the ceiling—splinters of wood, shards of stone—clouding the room with dust and smoke."Travis!" she screamed again, her voice ragged, her nails digging into the dirt as she scrambled back to the bars.The corridor was well ablaze, with the tongues of flames licking the walls and sending crazy shadows jumping across the room. And from the fire, a figure emerged through thick smoke.It was Travis.His flannel shirt was blackened with soot, his face streaked with ash as he coughed, and wisps of smoke curled from his clothes. He reached the wall opposite the cage with a slight stumble, his breathing hard and determined."Travis!" Laura's relief broke through her terror as he reached for the lever on the wall. The cage door creaked open, releasing her from her prison, and she flung herself at him, embracing him hard. He surrounded her waist with his free hand, too exhausted to release his hold from the wall.His smell hit her like a punch—ash, smoke, and fire. His chest heaved once, twice, against hers, catching his breath."What the hell happened?" she demanded, pulling back far enough to look at him.He shook his head. His eyes blazed with urgency. "Moonshine. We need to move. Now."Before she could argue, a shape materialized in the corridor—a form engulfed in flames.Eliza.Her figure was almost indistinguishable; her charred remains staggered toward them as the fire consumed her. The empty sockets of her eyes still bored into them, unrelentingly full of something that outlived death.Travis snatched at Laura's hand wordlessly, his hold firm and unyielding. They ran then, feet pounding against the floor, an inferno booming behind them.They came to the trapdoor, and Travis, with a calm but commanding tone, pushed Laura ahead. "Go! Get up!"She scrambled up the ladder as he was practically right behind her; the heat from the flames licking at their heels. Once they got out, he slammed the trapdoor shut.Travis took Laura's hand again and guided her, their footsteps clattering down the empty hallways as they ran towards the hall of the house. But Laura's breath caught as they skidded to a stop in the threshold.There was Travis's car—half crashed through the wall of the house, its hood rammed into the wood and plaster.Laura turned to him, her face twisting in a mixture of incredulity and surprise. "What the fuck?"He gave her a quick, adrenaline-fueled half-smile as he shoved her toward the car. "Go! It's our way out."They scrambled upwards, pushing through the jagged remnants of splintered wood and crumbling drywall. Every groan in the house sounded like it was about to give its last beneath them, but they struggled on, the prospect of their freedom shining just beyond the shattered frame of the car.Laura's breaths came hard and fast as they stumbled clear of the house, the cool night air hitting them like a splash of water. But their relief was short-lived.When they turned back towards the house, there she was.The figure emerged next to the car, flames licking hungrily at her scorched clothes, jerky unnatural movements, and firelight casting long shadows that made her grotesque form even more terrifying. Her burned, broken body trudged forward, each step dragging her closer. The flames clung to her with a sickly determination, illuminating the hollow, empty eyes and the twisted grimace that barely resembled a human expression.Travis's jaw clenched, his hand tightening protectively on Laura's arm as they backpedaled away from the burning house.Then his eyes tracked the dark, glistening trail of petrol snaking its way to the car.Travis reached into his pocket, his fingers finding the lighter. The small object felt impossibly heavy in his hand as he flicked it open. A tiny flame danced to life, fragile yet resolute, illuminating the determination etched into his face.He glanced back at Laura, meeting her gaze. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.“Step back," he warned, his tone low with quiet authority. She didn't retreat very far, her eyes fixed on him, waiting.Travis turned back, his breathing even, as he left the lighter fall from his hand. Instantly, the fire roared to life, its heat and ferocity making the ground beneath them shudder. The bright orange line surged forward, almost as if it were alive, racing toward the house.And towards Eliza.Travis took off after Laura, their legs pounding against the ground as they sprinted away, the fire left behind them. They ran—the fiery glow spreading; then, suddenly, the world exploded in a deafening boom. The blast ripped through the air, sending them sprawling to the ground—a shockwave that pushed Travis forward. Throwing himself behind Laura, his arms instinctively curled around her as they tumbled against the earth, his body absorbing the force of the impact.When they finally caught their breath, they turned, sitting down in tandem on the rough ground. Before them, the house gave off a tableau of hungry flames. The fire licked up the walls, curling around the porch and devouring the beams and shutters. Laura's mouth was open in awe as she watched, her voice finally breaking through the crackle of the blaze."Oh—fuck," she muttered, half awed, half horrified. Laura turned to him and she raised an eyebrow. "You don't think this is a bit much?”He shrugged, his eyes gleaming darkly. "Told you I'd set the house on fire before I let you set foot in it again."Just then, a loud, unearthly shriek pierced the air—an agonizing scream that seemed to come straight from the depths of hell. Eliza's voice was distorted with fury and pain, climbing higher and higher, ripping through the burning walls of Hackett's Quarry like a banshee's wail. The sound was raw, guttural—full of years of unspent grief—and it twisted in Travis's gut, a reminder of all that had happened here. The fire now crackled and roared higher, tearing with insatiable hunger through the house, as though it, too, was intent upon consuming what remained of Eliza's anger, her pain.Travis stood frozen, watching as the fire consumed the house, feeling his pulse pounding in his ears. The flames spread with a wanton disregard, Travis able to hear the familiar sound of the explosion, the hiss of gas and vapour igniting into an inferno. The wall that the cellar had once occupied shuddered and buckled beneath the force of the blaze, billowing out fumes of smoke into the air.But it was the destruction that sent a shudder of relief through his body, a feeling he couldn't even begin to understand. The basement, the red-lit room, the cages where he and Laura were held captive—their prison was being destroyed. His chest released its hold just a fraction as the house burned. The house that was a reminder of so much pain, so much loss, so much done to them was finally being obliterated. The breath he hadn't known he was holding rushed from his lips as he stood there watching the flames consume it all. Never again would that red light flicker. Never again would Laura be trapped there, never again haunted by the suffocating weight of the cage that once had held them.The fire didn't just burn the house—it burned away the last remnants of the nightmare. It was over. The place where she had suffered, where they'd both suffered, would no longer exist. Laura would never again have to step foot in that hellhole. Nobody ever would.Travis stood there, watching the inferno rage, as something inside of him broke free—relieved, exhausted, and finally at peace. Laura was safe. She was free. She would never again be cast in shadows, never again face the horrors of that place. Travis sat there, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction knotting in his chest. He almost believed he could see it—ancient curtains catching fire, crumpling into ash, once grand frames becoming twisted wraths of smoldering wreckage. The wallpaper, the dusty furniture left behind, even the walls that held too many secrets and far too much pain—all of it now being claimed by fire. Years of anguish and deceit, wrapped up in that house, finally reduced to no more than kindling for the fire.In the orange light of the roaring fire, Laura's eyes dropped to the ground beside her, where Travis's hand was lying in the dirt, his fingers still faintly trembling with the adrenaline and exertion. She said nothing, merely laid her hand over his, her fingers slipping between his, squeezing, grounding him in a way words couldn't."Travis," she whispered, a snatch of respect cutting through her shock.Travis felt her touch like a spark, and the turmoil that had clawed at him since they'd burst free of that accursed house began to steady. He looked down, his breath catching as he saw her hand enveloping his—solid, warm, real. The flames lit her face and cast a soft, determined glow across her features. She stared at him, her eyes searching his, her expression full of some unsaid something, something buried deeper than mere relief, something that felt like it had always been there, simply waiting to surface.Slowly, he raised his eyes and locked them with hers, and she felt a powerful emotion surge through him. This moment—it held all of the things he couldn't say, couldn't ever put into words. It was the quiet triumph of survival, the release of months of silence, the release of knowing that somehow, they were both still here. They were both free.And with that, without another thought, he leaned towards her. Laura's lips met his, soft but filled with this fierce, desperate energy. It wasn't a kiss of joy or even gratitude; it was a promise, a connection deeper than anything he'd ever felt in his life. It was two people finally coming together at the end of everything they'd fought against, finding solace and understanding that needed no words.Her hand pressed tighter against his, fingers laced as if never to let go. He moved his other hand to her cheek, the roughness of his fingers grazing her skin as he pulled her close—closer—in a way that said ‘I'm here, I'm not leaving, not this time.’ Everything around them began to fade, the flames, the smoke, even the ash in the air, all dissolving until it was just them—two people who'd been through hell and back, and had finally, somehow, found each other.They parted, Laura's hand staying on his, her eyes still focused on his. The smile she gave him then was small but sure, full of conviction and something like destiny. Travis was overcome by a certain clarity, a peace he had not known in years, the last of his defenses crumbling in the light of her fierce gaze.This wasn't just an end, but the start of another thing, one that he never thought he would deserve. Together, they watched as the fire roared on, devouring the last of the Hackett legacy; two figures against flame, bright and unyielding, the end of a haunted past promising something new.Sirens started cutting through the quiet some distance away, getting louder and louder until headlights cast beams across the smoky trees. A convoy of police cars rolled to a stop, and out of one stepped Sheriff Denis Whitlock, leading a small team of officers. He moved with urgency, scanning his eyes until he saw Travis and Laura sitting in each other's arms on the ground, soot-streaked."Travis!" Denis called out, as he approached them, his face a mixture of relief and alarm. He knelt beside them, his features a mask of questions and concern. “Are you two hurt? What happened?”Travis nodded up at him, still breathing hard. "We are ok. The house—" He glanced back at the flames still licking the wreckage. "It’s a long story.”Denis let that sink in a second, looking toward the burning remains of the old Hackett house before looking back at the two. "We'll get you both checked out, and I'll send an update to the parents and staff. You've had every damn person in this county on edge, you know that?"Travis managed to force a half-smile onto his face, though exhaustion was threatening to betray him. "Sorry about the trouble," he said low and contrite, looking down at Laura, who gave his hand another reassuring squeeze. Denis had seemed to catch the silent exchange, his face softening for a moment.“Can we get a lift to the Harbinger motel?” Laura asked with a shy smile.Following the quick medical check by paramedics, they were escorted to a police SUV. Travis and Laura piled in, while Denis slid into the driver's seat, cranking the engine. With the burning house at their backs now, the flashing lights of the convoy of police vehicles that followed them painted strobing colors on the charred ground. Travis leaned back against the seat, Laura holding his hand tightly.He gazed at her beautiful blue eyes before she closed them and leaned her head on his shoulder, giving a long reassuring calm sigh.Travis then looked over his shoulder one last time at the blaze that was reducing the last remnants of his family's haunted past to ashes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
In the Harbinger Motel, where the campers had been temporarily relocated after the evacuation, counselors and staff made every effort to keep the kids quiet and distracted from the chaos they had just escaped. The children sat in the clearing outside the motel, with staff leading games and conversations to comfort them as best they could. Meanwhile, Denis' team had coordinated a steady stream of updates for parents, and his deputies were on hand to answer the more immediate questions, arranging transportation and accommodation for any kids or families who could retrieve their kids that night.It was a tense few hours before the convoy returned from Hackett's Quarry. Out of his car came Denis, solemn but reassuring as he made his way from group to group, informing both counselors and campers that the immediate danger had passed. He and Travis began to work through headcounts with each of the camper groups, making sure all children were present and safe. It was a moment of relief but also exhaustion—particularly for Travis, who had been running on pure adrenaline.Nuria and a couple of the counselors broke away to approach Laura as soon as she stepped out of the police vehicle, clearly relieved to see her. Nuria hugged her tightly, her face streaked with tearful relief. The others immediately peppered her with questions, asking about what the hell happened, and if it was true that the old Hackett house had gone up in flames. Laura offered what reassurances she could, all while keeping her responses vague.The moment Denis pulled Travis aside to debrief him, questions came flooding in: what really happened at the gas station, how the Harper family was connected, how a camper ended up in the Hackett house, and what exactly went down on the old Hackett's Quarry house. Laura floated closer to Travis, who looked over for support, but their conversation was cut short as a black government-issued car pulled up. She elbowed Travis, nodding towards it knowingly.The FBI agents were dressed in plain suits that didn't scream authority, but as they stepped out and scanned their surroundings before heading towards the group, Travis felt his stomach turn. He wasn't wholly surprised, after all he had been the one giving the business card to a counselor to reach the FBI just as he had instructed. Relief and dread mixed into a cocktail in his chest.They pulled Travis and Laura aside to ask them questions. Both described the events as factually as possible. They already knew they would believe anything they told them anyway. Or that’s what they expected after the whole Silas incident. The agents were professional, yet aloof, questioning them about what had happened on the last day, about their relationship with the Harpers, and about what happened at the house.And about Eliza Vorez.Tedious and clinical, it siphoned what little energy they had left, though the agents revealed next to nothing about their own theories or conclusions. They just told them that they would be the ones taking care of it all and that was all. Again, not that Laura would believe any of what they had to say. Meanwhile, Denis and his officers collaborated with the FBI in putting the story in a good light. They wrapped the fire as a freak accident because of one of the so-called "paranormal enthusiast" campers who had been wandering into the Hackett house against warnings. Of course, that wasn't a complete fabrication, but a half-truth—a suitably reassuring one—the media and nervous parents could embrace without really considering the actual horrors at that site.It wasn't just damage control but an opportunity to reframe Travis Hackett and the counselors as unlikely heroes. It told the story of selfless protectors who acted on instinct to save the kids when the fire began in the property. The camp was no longer just a place shrouded in eerie ghost stories; it was now a site where courage and quick thinking had saved lives. Parents previously skeptical of the camp's reputation were left with a story that reassured them that their children had been in capable hands.As the hours passed, the orchestrated mayhem took on a rhythm of sorts. Denis's deputies established a secure perimeter around the camp, keeping curious onlookers at bay, while a team of evidence—marking FBI agents combed through the smoldering remains of the Hackett house. Their presence reinforced the official narrative, ensuring that no further rumors or conspiracies would leak beyond the existing local lore.For the time being, the camp's reputation balanced on a razor's edge, but the heroics of its staff, carefully managed, might just be enough to stabilize it for another summer.As the situation cooled down and the police and agents finally decided to leave them alone, Laura finally turned to Travis, who had kept a subtle distance but had been in her line of sight the whole time. The way that they gravitated towards each other —like magnets— was barely perceptible to an outsider, but to Laura, it was unmistakable. The pull between them wasn't just emotional; it was physical, too, like some kind of cord that kept them tethered. And when the tension in her chest rose, or the thoughts in her head started to swirl too fast, all it took was one glance at Travis, one brief touch, and the storm settled. She could tell he felt the same, whether it was brushing his arm as she passed, catching his eye, or standing close enough to feel his presence; it soothed something in him too.It was during one of those small moments of contact, almost instinctive reassurance, that Laura realized something."Oh, can I borrow your phone?" she said suddenly—the sudden interruption stopping Travis as he finished with his call to one of the staff.Turning to Laura, Travis's brow furrowed in question, his hand opening silently to proffer the cell, his fingers splaying—but also holding on slightly as if unsure he was ever going to get it back."Don't take long, okay?" he grumbled, his tone high with a playful irritation. "I don't have a charger with me, and I keep getting calls from parents."Laura nodded vaguely, her fingers already dialing. A couple of tries—her thumb slightly shaking from exhaustion—but finally the line connected. Her shoulders dropped as in relief, a well-known voice answering."Mom," Laura whispered into the receiver."Laura?" was the sleepy, worried response. "What's going on? Why are you calling at this time of night?""There's been an accident at camp," Laura began to explain in a lowered tone as another counselor approached Travis.Distracted by last-minute details and questions as to how the campers were going home, Travis turned to the other matter at hand. He kept his responses short while his ear instinctively listened for Laura's conversation in the background. Something in her tone changed; it was soft, fragile, vulnerable in a way that was not common for her.Then he felt a tug on his sleeve, blackened by ash and smoke. He turned back, meeting Laura's serious expression as she mouthed the word, "Mom."He nodded in understanding, taking the phone from her outstretched hand."Hello, this is Travis Hackett," he said, his voice even but weighted with all that had happened.On the other end of the line, there was a pause—then the sound of a breath catching."Mr. Hackett—Sheriff Hackett, I don't even know how to… Thank you. Thank you for saving her again," Laura's mom said, her voice cracking with emotion. "You don't have to thank me, ma'am," Travis said modestly. "It's my job to keep people safe. And honestly, Laura… Your daughter doesn't really give me a choice in the matter. She's stubborn that way." His lips twitched in the barest hint of a smile, glancing briefly at Laura, who watched him intently."She gets that from her father," Laura's mom replied with a faint laugh, though it was clearly strained. "But really, Sheriff, I… I don't know what we would have done if…." Her voice trailed off and a shaky breath followed. "If anything had happened to her. You've saved her life—twice now. I can't imagine how we could ever repay you for that.""There's nothing to repay," Travis said, with softness in his voice now. "Laura. she is strong, resourceful. She doesn't need anyone to save her. I just—was there. That is all.""I don't even think you'd understand how it means to us," her mother said, the weight of that sense of gratitude heavy in the way she spoke. "You did so much more than you know—for Laura and for us. Should there ever come a time—"Travis hesitated, glancing again at Laura, who had shifted her weight and crossed her arms, watching him with a curious tilt of her head. He cleared his throat. “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am. But really, there’s no need.”“I mean it,” her mother insisted, her tone firmer now. “Anything.”The conversation started to wind down shortly after that, Laura's mom offering a few more heartfelt thanks before the line disconnected. Laura was smiling—a look equal parts teasing and appreciative."Nice to know my mom likes you more than me," she quipped.Travis shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. She’s just relieved you’re okay. Same as me.”Laura playfully nudged his arm with her elbow, a soft laugh escaping her. But then she did hesitate, looking up at him with a mix of playful confidence and a touch of nerves. "I, uh… I told her I'd be staying here a bit longer."Travis stopped —mouth open— turning to face her fully, his brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean by 'a bit longer?"Laura shrugged, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Just a few more days. I figured with everything that's been going on, it's better if I stick around for a while. You could use the help, and… well, I like it here." Her voice softened near the end, and her gaze dropped, as if to admit that aloud was a bigger deal than she wanted it to be."Also, since camp is finishing earlier and I'm not in a hurry to go anywhere anytime soon... I thought I could stay?"For a moment, Travis said nothing, his face unreadable. Then, he exhaled a quiet breath and nodded, low and warm in tone. "Alright. I'm not gonna argue with you staying longer."The slight tension in her shoulders dissipated as she grinned. "Good. Because I wasn't asking for permission, Sheriff."He smirked, shaking his head as they kept walking together back to the group.The parents of the kids from out of town started arriving just after midnight to reunite with their children, relief etched into their tired faces. The counselors, still running on adrenaline, coordinated the remaining campers, helping families gather belongings and answering questions in strained but patient tones. For those unable to make the late-night drive home, the motel offered temporary lodging, with rooms quickly filling as the night stretched on.When the motel finally quieted, the lobby emptied of frantic parents and nervous campers, Laura turned to see Nuria standing there, looking both exhausted and concerned."Hey," Nuria said softly, stepping closer. "Are you okay? Do you have a place to stay tonight? I'm crashing here tonight; my dad is picking me up tomorrow. And my room has a spare bed."Laura hesitated. Her eyes darted towards Travis, who was some feet away, hands put in pockets, eyes resting on her face without revealing much. He wasn't in a rush; he awaited her call.She faced Nuria once more, that ghostly smile appearing again: "I’m fine. But you should now get some rest; you must be tired, and it's well deserved."Nuria’s eyes darted between Laura and Travis, the smallest of knowing smiles curling her lips. "Alright," she said with a teasing tone, glancing at Travis. His ears flushed red, and he quickly looked away, his boots scuffing against the floor.With a soft laugh, Nuria hugged Laura tightly. "I’m happy for you," she whispered, stepping back."Thanks, Nuri," Laura said. Her voice was warm as she added, "Thanks for everything you did this afternoon. I'll see you back on campus, okay?"Nuria nodded, waving as she headed toward the staircase to the rooms.With her gone, Laura turned back to Travis. Their gazes met, a silent communion of exhaustion and gratitude. A faint smile tugged at her lips, and she reached out, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He stared for a second at the spot where Nuria had disappeared, then turned to look at Laura. Slowly, he moved closer to her, allowing her to gently kiss his lips. The kiss was brief, barely a few seconds, but when they pulled away, Laura nuzzled his cheek with her nose, and Travis wrapped his arms around her. They stood there, hugging each other for a while, savoring the warmth of the moment.None of them cared if anybody was watching. This was more important than anybody else.Finally, Laura took a step back, mirth dancing in her grin. "You smell like gas and smoke," she said with sparkling eyes.Travis let out a soft huff of laughter, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Well, you smell like trouble and bad ideas," he shot back, his tone dry but laced with affection.Laura raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. "Oh, is that right? Guess we're even, Sheriff.""Not quite," he replied, tightening his arms around her for a moment longer before letting her go. "You didn’t just spend half the night playing arsonist. ""Yeah, no," she quipped, leaning in with a teasing glint in her eyes. "I leave the big explosions to the professionals—like you."His smirk grew, and he shook his head, but the warmth in his gaze never wavered. "Glad I could live up to your expectations." Looking over at her, the gleam of playfulness in his eyes. "Speaking of your trouble and bad ideas, you remember that time you literally pushed me out of a second-story window?"Laura smiled impishly, not batting an eyelash. "Oh, you mean when I saved your life? Yeah, I do."He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Saved my life? Pretty sure you were just trying to see if I bounced."Laura leaned in, her smirk widening. "And did you?""Not the point," he deadpanned, though his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. "My ribs are still thinking about it.""Your ribs should be grateful," she teased, poking his chest lightly. "You'd be a permanent ghost roommate with Eliza if it weren't for me."Travis snorted, the sound caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "Next time, give a guy a little warning before playing superhero, alright?"Laura tilted her head with mock sweetness. "Sure thing, love. Next time I'll tie you a nice bungee cord." It was well after dawn when, above the treetops, the pale light cast a quiet serenity over the area, a calm that hadn't been felt in years at North Kill. Laura and Travis sat side by side on a bench in the motel's parking lot, their exhaustion too heavy for words. The last of the parents had driven off, leaving the camp staff and officers to linger in the stillness of the morning.The gentle breeze held the faint pine scent, and for the first time in North Kill, the air was easier to breathe.Travis leaned back, shoulders slumped, hands loose in his lap. He had his eyes closed but Laura could tell he wasn't sleeping, just resting his tired eyes. She glanced at him, and the weariness etched into every line of his face, there was weight that seemed to be lifted too, lighter in his expression.Footsteps echoed through the night air and caught their attention. One of his old team officers, Carmen, stood before them; her eyes held the expression of kindness and understanding."Need a ride home, Sheriff?" she asked, her voice low and gentle.He had already made sure every counselor, staff and parent had his number, giving them a final layer of reassurance that they could reach him if they needed anything. Knowing they'd left no loose ends, no kids without a responsible adult supervising them, he nodded. By the time they reached his home, words barely needed to be exchanged. He wasn't even surprised to see Laura's car parked on his driveway, probably she arrived when he was already at camp and had plans to pass by his place before leaving for home. That stirred a warm feeling on Travis stomach. The air still clung with smoke, sweat, and all the adrenaline that had seen them through the night. Everything took on a surreal quality in the early morning light, as if each shadow and silence shouted out an echoing whisper of the last hours. Travis leaned against the front door as Laura clicked it shut behind them. Closing his eyes while breathing the known smell of his sanctuary as he let Laura roaming around.Without saying anything, Laura headed to the kitchen, determined steps that made him raise his head."What are you—" he started to say, but cut himself off when she reached for the salt on his counter.She unscrewed the lid and laid down a thick, protective line by the door before moving to the windows. "Haven't slept in twenty-four hours. I'm not letting anything crawl out at me while I sleep." She paused, looking up at him with an expression half teasing, half grave as stone."Point taken," he whispered, a wearied but thankful smile tugging at his lips.With that, finally, the weight of the night's ordeal sank into their bones, and for a few moments longer, they just stood there.Travis let out a deep breath, pushing it slowly out as his fingers ran through his smoky hair. He wasn't sure if he was trying to get the dust and smoke out of his lungs or if he just needed something to ground him. The night had been chaotic, too much adrenaline, too much fear and now, after it all, there was a strange quiet that had settled between them.He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I think we need a shower before crashing," he muttered, the practical part of him coming to the forefront. The physical exhaustion weighed on him, but it didn't compare to the mental fatigue. The smell of smoke, sweat, and ash clung to their skin, the remnants of a night neither would ever be able to forget. And he didn't want to wake up to it tomorrow.Laura let out a deep sigh, her shoulders sagging just a little. "I want to hate you for it," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up despite the exhaustion creeping into her tone, "but—yeah. I agree." She gave him a tired, understanding look, and he could tell she was just as exhausted as he was. But they both knew no matter how much their bodies were screaming for rest, they couldn't go to sleep like this."You can take the first one—" Travis offered, always the one to make sure others went first. But before he could finish, Laura shot him a look."Don’t be ridiculous," she said firmly, her eyes steady on his. "I’ve seen your shower—it’s big enough for the both of us."Travis just froze for a second, his brain stalling as her words sank in. But she didn't wait for him to respond. Without even a second thought, Laura yanked her shirt up over her head, the fabric catching on her shoulders as it slid over, exposing her skin. She moved with purpose now, no hesitation, no pretense. She was done with all the unsaid tension between them, the careful distance they'd kept up so long."Laura—" Travis began, his eyes flashing to the floor as a surge of heat settled in his cheeks and ears.She stepped closer and reached out with one hand, grasping his chin and turning his eyes back towards hers. "Stop it," she whispered, the command tender yet peremptory. "Look at me, Travis."He refused to meet her gaze, his weight bowing down to the floor from the heavy respect he had for her. She leaned in closer, her fingers tracing his cheek to lift his face toward her."I need you to stop worrying," she whispered, her tone soft but sure. "Let's just take a shower. There is nobody here and we're too damn tired for that. It’s just us. You’re not taking advantage of me, I’m not forced to be here. You’re not doing anything wrong. We need this, we are too tired to worry about anything else."He hesitated for a long beat, but the softness in her voice, the warmth in her eyes, slowly wore down his resistance and he looked up at her beautiful but tired blue eyes.“You’re right.”“Of course I am.”She helped him out of his burned flannel shirt before removing his grey t-shirt, her fingers tracing the lines of his scars as they both slowly shed the weight of his life. With every layer of clothes falling to the floor, the tension, the fear, and the stress of everything they had just survived started to break down. The weight from the night, heavy in terror, uncertainty, and survival, slipped away until all that was left was quiet solace in each other's presence. The world outside, its chaos and dangers, was not quite there; it might as well have been a bad memory. There was nothing but the soft warmth of shared space, comfort from someone else's presence that understood all that they had just gone through.As Travis stood there shirtless, just like Laura, she kicked off her boots, then undid her jeans, using Travis's steady presence as leverage as she worked them off. She noticed him watching her, really looking at her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a surge of pride—not in her body alone but in who she had become. The ash and dirt from the night, the grime that clung to her skin, only seemed to highlight her strength in the moment. Travis didn't appear to notice the soot or his exhaustion as his eyes remained on her, quiet with appreciation.Undressing next, Travis carefully folded their clothes and set them in a pile by the door, keeping the mess of the outside world from invading the sanctuary of their home. Once they were both naked, they didn't make a move to look at each other's bodies. There was no energy for that. Instead, they just held hands, wordlessly acknowledging that comfort was what was needed most. Too exhausted to speak, they stepped into the shower together.The warm water cascaded over them, immediate and soothing. It wasn't just about washing off dirt; it was about washing off the whole day. The water worked like balm on their aching muscles, its heat melting away the fatigue and tension coiled deep inside. It was a slow process, each drop of water feeling like it was helping them unravel from the horrors of the night. Their bodies fit together beneath the stream, each touch instinctual, comforting.Laura leaned into Travis, her forehead coming to rest gently against his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing. He wrapped his arms around her, firm but tender, pulling her close, anchoring them both in this fleeting moment of peace. Neither of them spoke. There was no need. All the chaos, all the shouting and screaming, was gone, replaced by the rhythm of the water falling and the steady presence of the other.Travis leaned his head, and his hand rose to catch her chin, gently nudging her face toward his. His thumb traced along her cheek; the touch was light, anchoring. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her forehead, a wordless confirmation of all that had brought them here, all they had weathered together.Laura looked up at him, her arms slipping around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss. The kiss was slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke volumes without needing words. It was full of quiet joy, relief, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude—gratitude for survival, for the bond they shared, for being here together when it felt like everything else had been lost.Standing under the warm water, the air thick with steam, exhaustion from the past hours melted away with each passing second. Travis delicately guided Laura's back with his hands, her skin touching his fingertips as they shared in this quieted intimacy of washing away today's horrors. Laura leaned into him, arching her back slightly as he ran his hands across it steadily, comfortingly.Slowly, he poured some shampoo in his hand, massaging gently into her damp hair, tiring him yet sending him to a wonderful abyss, working the strands, filling the air full of the scented soap—lavender and mint; a smell she had finally come to associate with him. It was soothing, calming, and in that moment, she allowed herself to let go of everything—just for a moment, she let herself be taken care of.As he rinsed her hair, she returned the gesture, her fingers tracing the scar along his shoulder, the one that had never quite healed, and the others that mapped up his torso. Little and big ones that she had never asked about but had always wondered about. With every delicate touch of her fingers, it seemed she was mapping the trail of his history; her touch soft and gentle, as if setting to memory the trace of him within her mind. There was no hurry, only a quiet reverence in the tracing of her fingers across the lines of his skin.They spoke very little. They didn't have to. There was just so much to assimilate, to absorb, and to feel in the process. Each moment felt a new little discovery: the feel of his skin under her fingers, his body response to her, and that quiet solace sharing in something so intimate and at the same time simple. They were too tired for more, exhausted with what had been taken to a further extent. And within the silence, everything lay there.He gave her the same treatment, shy at first, his fingers barely brushing her damp skin as though he didn't trust himself to hold her fully. The small marks on her body caught his attention: freckles he hadn't noticed before, scars he didn't know the stories behind, faint traces of a life he hadn't been a part of until now. Each one felt like a secret she hadn't even realized she'd shared—a map to the person she was, and he followed it with a reverence so soft it left her breathless.A small freckle on her shoulder stopped him in his tracks. It was nothing much in itself, but something in that freckle drew him in. He leaned down and kissed it softly. It was a secret only he knew, something he had found and claimed, though not in possession—just in knowing.Her breath caught, the silence between them vibrating with an almost palpable connection."Any regrets?" she whispered—the words barely audible over the sound of water still streaming past them. Her voice carried no judgment, only soft curiosity as her fingers lingered at the base of his neck, resting there like an anchor.He shook his head, pressing another kiss along the curve of her neck, tracing a slow path from the freckle with his lips."I only wish I'd been braver," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Brave enough not to let you go on that summit. I should've begged you to stay. I should've kissed you that day. God, Laura, I should've never let you go."His voice shook, as if it was still fragile and might break when spoken aloud.His heart clenched as thoughts flooded him—if he'd done things differently, maybe they wouldn't have fed into that despair that creature—that ghost— had used to trap them both. Maybe his hesitation hadn't just hurt him but had opened a doorway for something far worse to take hold.Laura stepped back, water beading on her eyelashes, her gaze sharp yet endlessly soft. Her hands came up to his face, cradling it, her thumbs brushing along his cheekbones as if to smooth the wrinkles of worry from his skin."It wasn't your fault," she said matter-of-factly, with a tone so steady and firm that would brook no doubt. Her eyes bored into his, their depths welling with quiet strength and demanding his attention. "None of this was your fault. She was going to hurt us no matter what we did, and if it hadn't been that moment, it would have been something else."Travis looked at her, the weight of his guilt still upon him, but her gaze would not allow it to stay there. Slowly, it began to ease as her words settled into the cracks carved by time and pain."You did the best you could," Laura said, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn't a kiss of longing but one of comfort—of love. "And we made it out, Travis. Because of you. Because you're braver than you give yourself credit for."The silence was there, but her words hadn't cleared the space in between. Travis laid his forehead against hers, his hands tightening on her hips, like he needed the solidness of her to ground him."I don't know what I did to deserve you," he whispered roughly, but a hint of a smile quivered at the corners of his lips.Laura smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "Well, lucky for you, you don't have to figure it out. You just have to take it."She kissed him again, slower this time, wrapping her arms around his neck as though anchoring him fully to this moment, to her.Coming out of the shower, the steam curling around them, Travis caught Laura's gaze. There was no hesitation in her expression, only warmth and certainty, her damp hair curling at the ends, and the faintest, teasing smile tugging at her lips. It had sent an ache to his chest, and for a second, he'd forgotten about everything but that—the two of them standing together in that small bathroom."So," she said, slinging a towel casually over her shoulder rather than wrapping herself in it, "I know you've got that 'clothes on' rule, Sheriff, but I think we've earned a pass tonight, don't you?" Her grin was playful, teasing even, but there was something warm lurking in her eyes despite the exhaustion.Travis shook his head, his lips quirking into a smile that fought off the fatigue. "You never do follow rules.""Not when it comes to you, no," she replied, taking a step closer. Her fingers brushed lightly over his damp shoulder, sending a shiver through him. She looked up at him, her face softening, the playful glint replaced by something deeper for a moment. “You look good when I break rules.”Travis laughed softly, a breathy laugh. His hand automatically reached up to tuck a stray damp strand behind her ear. He left his fingers to linger along her jawline, stroking the skin, as though seeking assurance that she truly was there, truly with him. His eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "All right, let’s go to bed," he whispered, the warmth between them radiating into the quietness of the house.He didn't say a word; he didn't have to. Her hand slipped into his, giving it a soft squeeze as she led him forward—to something that finally felt like peace.They climbed into bed together—the cool sheets like a different world from the heat they shared. Laura burrowed into his chest, her body fitting against his like it was meant to. Their legs intertwined under the covers, and Travis allowed himself to breathe in the closeness—to feel her presence without the familiar constraints that kept him so guarded for so long.Laura leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his shoulder, her hand splayed light over his heartbeat. She stayed there, the touch steadying him, while with every steady breath they took together, he could feel the tension of the last hours seep away."You're safe," she whispered into his skin, so softly, so quietly that he could have imagined it, but something in the sincerity of her voice made it real.Travis brushed his hand over her hair, his thumb tracing the strands. He pressed his lips to the top of her head, his voice barely above a whisper. "So are you."They lay there in complete silence, wrapped around each other's warmth. Outside, the world might have been chaotic, but here, at that moment, everything was still. Just the two of them. She dozed fitfully, the rise and fall of her chest gradual and soothing, yet she was always aware of the solid presence of Travis beside her. She felt his body, the heat of him seeping through the sheets; the quiet thrum of his heartbeat was steady beneath her hand. But even now, as the weight of sleep pulled her under, she felt a nudge of awareness that Travis was still awake, staring at the ceiling, distant, lost in thought.But she was not able to stand it anymore, so she suddenly broke the silence with a soft, but searching, voice: "What's on your mind?"Finally, Travis's eyes dropped to hers, and for one swift second, his surprise lit up in his eyes. He had not known she was awake. He let out a sigh; his gaze skipped back to the ceiling as he seemed to struggle with some sort of fight within. "Go to sleep, don't worry," he growled, but Laura caught the fatigue in his voice, the weight of thoughts pressing upon him."No," she said, her voice a little firmer now, "it's okay. You're clearly thinking about something, and it's not letting you sleep. What is it?"He hesitated, his breathing uneven, before finally speaking again, the words slow and measured. "It's a really stupid thought," he muttered to himself.Laura sensed his hesitation and gave a small, teasing smile. "I'm great at stupid thoughts," she replied. "Come on, tell me."Travis adjusted a bit, but he kept looking at the ceiling. "I was wondering… how long that thing had been in the house." He trailed off there for a second and Laura furrowed her brow because she didn't quite grasp where he was going with that. "Eliza—she controlled the Harpers like puppets. Wonder if she had been inside that house prior to killing Silas. If she—if she did influence my mother or not.”Laura knew exactly where his thoughts were going. Of course, Travis would still be looking for any explanation, anything that could justify his mother's actions—something that could ease the pain of what she had done. Always the loving son, through all the cruelty that he had suffered, he tried to defend her, even against the truth. She could see it now—he was still clinging to the idea that his mother wasn't fully to blame, that something had controlled her, forced her into those actions. And part of her understood why: He couldn't bear the thought that his own mother could have truly chosen to hurt him like that.Travis let out another shaky breath. "I remember… after she— after I got shot." His voice broke, and Laura reached out, her hand brushing his chest. He continued, his voice thick. "She broke. She… she cried. She just dropped to the floor and held me like I was a kid again, begging me to stay awake until we heard the sirens outside." His jaw clenched as his gaze dropped. "That wasn't the same woman who locked me in that cage. It couldn't have been. She was different. Completely different."Laura's heart twisted painfully at his words. She could see the war in him, the need to believe his mother's love hadn't been entirely lost to the bitterness and pain that had consumed her."Would that change anything?" Laura asked, her voice low, almost a whisper, the question hovering between them like a knife."I don't know," Travis admitted, his voice low. "But maybe it would make it easier for me to make peace with. If Eliza influenced her… if she somehow knew we were close to killing Silas that night, wouldn’t it make sense? It could explain why she was so desperate to keep us locked away, why everything happened the way it did. We were the closest to their tracks. Pa and Bobby are good hunters, but Pa is old and Bobby is slow. We were the real threat to Silas that night. If Eliza knew that— she would have tried to keep us away, and if she had control over other people…"Laura's brows furrowed as she considered his words. It wasn't wholly impossible, she thought. If Eliza had been watching, had seen them getting closer to ending her son, it was possible she'd manipulated Constance into keeping them trapped in that basement. After all, Constance that night lost her grandaughter and son, just to later losing her grandson. That could have been bad enough for Eliza to be able to take a hold to. And yet…Laura's voice was steady, though laced with compassion. "Love… even if Eliza had a hand in it, your mom still made those choices. She still locked us up, still did what she did. You know that, right? You heard Eliza’s voice in your head too. It whispered you things that you knew were wrong and you didn’t go through with what they were asking you to do."He looked at her, his face a mask of pain and reluctance. "But she wasn't always like that," he muttered. "I just—I need to know if there was something else. Something that made her act the way she did.""I understand," Laura whispered. "But your mom made those choices, Travis. No grief, no pain, no ghost… could make her act like that unless she wanted to. And if she loved you—if she really did—then she would never have done what she did. You need to accept that.""I know," he whispered. "I just… sometimes it's hard to accept. She is my mom." "I know," Laura repeated, her hand finding his, her grip firm but comforting. "But you don't have to bear that burden on your own anymore. You've carried it for so long, but it's time to let it go. She's not here anymore. And you—" She paused, her voice full of emotion. "You are so much more than the man she tried to make you be."At her words, Travis closed his eyes; his chest rose and fell on a deep, shaky breath. Again, he nodded—a small, almost imperceptible movement. "I just… I don't know how to let it go.""You don't have to do it all at once," she reassured him, brushing a hand through his hair. "And you don’t have to do it alone."They lied in silence for a long moment, the weight of their shared pain hanging in the air. Finally, Travis's lips quirked into the faintest semblance of a smile as he squeezed her hand. "Together," he echoed softly, the word testing, settling over him.The quiet hung around them for a while, the weight of everything pressing down, but in this moment, there was something else too—comfort, a small measure of peace. Laura stayed there, holding him, her presence a silent confort, one he only had dream of.Travis let himself relax, and the tightness in his body ebbed as he lay beside her.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The warmth of the sun on her face stirred Laura from sleep, dragging her slowly from the deep, dreamless void of exhaustion. Her eyes fluttered open, hazy and half-lidded as she adjusted to the golden light pouring into the room. For a moment, she didn't move, letting herself absorb the soft rise and fall of Travis's chest beneath her cheek, the rhythmic thrum of his heartbeat anchoring her in the present.She shifted, her hand splaying across his chest as she awoke more fully. Fingers moved to begin a series of slow, gentle patterns tracing out the ridges and valleys of old scar and taut muscle beneath her touch. The movements were lethargic and deliberate, each caress seeming weighted with a gratitude and affection that might have bordered on reverence.Travis lay unmoving, his breathing measured, though his senses came alive with the awareness of her touch. As her fingers ghosted over a deeper scar just below his ribs, he felt the familiar tightening in his chest—the pang of self-consciousness creeping in like an unwelcome guest.His scars were more than just marks on his skin; they were memories etched into his body, each telling a story he wished he could forget. Always carrying them in quiet shame, they reminded him of a life marred by mistakes, violence, and the burdens of his family's curse.As Laura's touch lingered, her fingertips brushing over another jagged mark near his shoulder, his mind wandered to younger days—days when his body bore fewer marks of battle and guilt, and when he might have felt more worthy of her. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wishing—not for the first time—that she'd met him then, before the years had carved their stories onto his skin. To met her in his youth when he was younger, more energetic, more handsome and less closer to an ancient dinosaur. Not that he’d ever been much of a catch, even then. She was so completely out of his league it wasn’t even a question. But somehow, despite all his doubts, she seemed drawn to him in ways he couldn't explain.But as her fingers moved with care, not hesitation, it struck him how deliberate her touch was. She wasn't just tracing scars; she was learning him, committing him to memory. And despite himself, something in that softened the sharp edges of his doubt.He felt the heat rise to his ears when her hand became bolder, her fingers brushing over his nipple with playful intent. A nervous pulse of embarrassment shot through him, and he fought the urge to pull away. They’d had this silent dance a thousand times before—her unreserved affection and his reluctant acceptance of it. If she liked exploring his body, scars, freckles, marks and all, and who was he to stop her?Still, the self-doubt gnawed at him. He wanted to say something—wanted to tell her she didn’t have to pretend. But he also knew better by now. This was a losing battle, as she didn’t seem to see him the way he saw himself.When he finally shifted under her touch, Laura froze, then looked up at him with a mischievous smile, her blue eyes sparkling."Good morning, love," she teased, her fingers still lightly grazing his chest.Travis cleared his throat, his voice hoarse from sleep. "Morning. Been up for long?""Long enough," she replied, smirking as she put her chin on his chest.He gave her a small smile, one corner of his mouth going upward. But she could see the shadow of his earlier thoughts lingering in his eyes.Her hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its slow path across his skin. "You’re thinking too much again," she said softly."Habit," he muttered, his gaze flicking away.Laura’s brow furrowed, and she shifted so she was lying beside him, her face level with his. "Travis," she began, her voice steady but gentle. "What’s going on in that head of yours?"He hesitated, then let out a breath. "It’s nothing."She arched a brow, unconvinced.He looked at her then, really looked at her—the warmth in her eyes, the way her hair framed her face in messy waves, the softness of her lips as they quirked into a knowing smile. He couldn’t lie to her, not when she looked at him like that."I just… sometimes I wish you’d met me when I was younger. When I wasn’t…" He gestured vaguely at himself. "This."Her eyes softened, and she reached up to cup his face, her thumb brushing over his cheek. "I’m glad I met you now," she said simply. "Besides, scars suit you. They tell a story. And they are hot."He gave a soft laugh, his throat tightening as he nodded, his hand coming up to cover hers.Laura leaned in then, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, her lips lingering. "You burned down your house for me," she murmured against his skin."I was always planning to destroy it," he replied, his voice low. "I guess this way I will save some money from the demolition team."She pulled back, her eyes narrowing playfully. "You’re terrible at taking credit for grand gestures, you know that?"He chuckled softly, but his gaze turned distant."What were you planning to do with the house?" she asked, curiosity lacing her tone.Travis hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. He didn’t want to say it—not out loud. Not when it felt so selfish, so wrong to voice the idea he’d been holding onto.But Laura’s eyes were on him, patient and unwavering."I wanted to build a wildlife center," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.Her brows lifted in surprise. "That’s a great idea. Why hide it?"He opened his mouth, then closed it again, his expression caught between guilt and vulnerability. She tilted her head, watching him closely, her sharp eyes not missing the conflict etched into every line of his face."You wanted me to come work here with you," she said, the realization dawning."I’m sorry," he said quickly, his voice full of regret.And then it hit her, like a quiet revelation whispered into the moment. This wasn’t just a passing idea, not just a project he’d considered for the camp. It was more than that—this was his heart fighting against his mind. Travis, who had insisted on keeping his distance, on creating space between them for her to have a better future, had been quietly waging a battle with himself all along. While his head told him to push her away, to give her the freedom he thought she needed, his heart had been making plans, finding ways to tether her close without him even realizing it.The thought stirred something deep inside Laura—a warmth, a tenderness that softened the edges of her grin. She laughed, soft and warm, and leaned in to kiss him, her lips brushing his in a gesture full of understanding."Don’t apologize," she murmured against his mouth. Her hands cupped his face, her thumbs brushing against his cheekbones as her smile widened. "I think it’s perfect. And for the record, I’d have said yes."She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly, thoughtful. "What about Bobby? What was the plan for him? I mean… now that the house is gone? Once he gets out—"Travis’s jaw tightened for a moment, and he exhaled slowly. "I was going to build him a small place near the old car yard. He’s happiest when he’s working on cars; mechanics work is what he loves. I figured… I’d let him live there." His voice softened. "Maybe even give him a room with me if he needs it."Laura nodded, her expression warm, but her gaze searched his. They both fell silent for a beat, and though unspoken, the thought lingered between them: it wouldn’t work if she were there too.She knew it as much as he did. Privacy, space, a chance for Bobby to have a life of his own—all of that would be impossible if they were all under one roof. But also, giving Bobby his own space would help him to make his own decisions, to live separate of other people’s choices. A life of his own. "You’re a good brother," Laura said quietly, her voice laced with affection.Travis shrugged, brushing it off the way he always did. "Just doing what I can."Laura rested her head on Travis’s chest, her fingers tracing slow, idle circles over his skin, her thoughts wandering as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Her mind drifted, unbidden, to a vision of a life she hadn't dared imagine fully before—a life with him.She pictured it so clearly, almost tangibly. She’d finish her studies, finally get that masters' degree she was working on. Then, North Kill would become her home—not just for a summer or a year, but permanently. The wildlife center Travis dreamed of building could be her place too, her hands helping bring it to life, caring for injured animals, educating kids, and working side by side with him.Their days would find a rhythm. She’d come home in the evenings, the sight of their little country house greeting her like a warm embrace. Travis would be waiting there, maybe already cooking dinner or tinkering with something on the porch. They’d make love at night, slow and sweet, sharing whispered promises and soft laughter beneath the moonlight. Summers would bring the busy energy of the camp, kids running through the trees and the shared satisfaction of creating something meaningful. Winters, in contrast, would be quieter. They’d sit by the fire, a blanket draped over them as they shared stories or simply enjoyed the silence together.Her family would visit for Christmas. Bobby too—she could picture him towering awkwardly under mistletoe, eating too many cookies, bringing unexpected joy to their small celebrations. They’d visit Tommy’s diner, just like Travis always had, and they’d travel together, seeing the world piece by piece. She could already imagine them kissing in every country, laughing at how he’d get embarrassed every time strangers looked their way.But it wouldn't be perfect, nothing that was worth having ever was. They would fight—big ones, small ones, over the stupidest or most important things. There would be petty squabbles: he always leaves his muddy boots by the door, she has the habit of piling too many books on the bedside table. There would be the heavier fights too: when Travis was racked by guilt, or Laura felt the burden of his protectiveness suffocating her independence.And they'd break apart sometimes, really break. Laura could envision it—leaving the small home they'd built in a fit of frustration, slamming the door behind her, and driving aimlessly until she found herself back at her mother's house. It would be temporary; they'd cool down separately, both too stubborn to reach out first at times, but Travis would always come for her, weeks or months later if needed. He'd stand there, looking awkward and sheepish, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, mumbling something that wasn't quite an apology but good enough for them to start over.And they'd rebuild. Every time. Because no matter how broke things became, they weren't just two different people trying to make it work; they were fragments of a whole, fusing together and sealing the cracks with a mixture of shared pain and love. With every fight, it would just remind them what they had been through and why they continued to come back, no matter how difficult that sometimes was. They weren't perfect, but neither was life—and that was the beauty of it, that it was theirs.She realized with startling clarity that he was in her bones, in her bloodstream, as much a part of her as she was of him. He was the steady ground she’d learned to stand on, and she was the spark that reignited something long dormant in him. They were so different, two opposing forces somehow creating a perfect mosaic—imperfect but uniquely theirs.Her throat tightened as the enormity of it hit her. It wasn’t just a future she could see with him; it was the only one that felt right. A crushing wave of love swept through her, raw and undeniable, leaving her breathless. She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes soft but shining with emotion."I love you," she said, her voice a whisper, trembling with sincerity.Travis froze for a moment, his breath catching as he looked down at her, his expression an unreadable mix of surprise, vulnerability, and something deeper, something that had always been there, waiting to surface."I love you too," he said, the words a quiet exhale, filled with the same raw emotion she felt, as though he’d been holding them back for far too long.Their foreheads pressed together, the silence between them alive with the weight of unspoken confessions and the fragile trust they'd built. That was it, Laura knew at that moment—this was home."So," Laura started, her tone light, breaking the quiet with a soft grin, "given that we are safe—alone, naked, and relaxed, we should go through your checklist."Travis merely cocked his head sideways, giving her a doubtful overture. "What check list?"You know…" Laura teased, drawing out the words. "We've held hands, kissed, gone on a date…" Travis raised an eyebrow. "A date? What date? The one to the police station to search for missing people or the gas station where we got shot at by a zombie?" She snorted, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing outright. "You took me to Tommy's." "In my pajamas," he deadpanned, flushing faintly."And I remember it being very romantic," she said, trying and failing to maintain the seriousness, the grin broadening."Laura—" Travis's voice caught with her hand slipping to touch the inside of his thigh. Soft, playful, but also threatening."Shh," she hushed, leaning in as her voice fell to that low, husky purr. "We're crossing things off your list. What else was on the list? Burning your generational family home—that wasn't on the list, but really, it should count. Then there's you saving me from a ghost, saving me from the Feds kidnapping me, I've had the misfortune to meeting your family… we've been imprisoned together, fought a ghost, a werewolf…” She smirked, her tone turning playful. “I think the only thing left is the flowers. Can that wait?”Travis's gaze locked onto hers, and something inside his expression changed—a silent intensity that cranked her heartbeat a notch or two higher. He was actually seeing her, his gaze piercing, tender, as if attempting to peer through the playfulness of her, as though checking that this was truly what she was saying."Do you really want this?" The soft tone hung in the air like an anchor settling between them.Laura’s grin faded into something softer, her teasing replaced by sincerity. “I’ve never been more sure in my life. Yeah.”He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly, and then, to her surprise, he stood. Completely naked, he moved across the room, his back to her. The sunlight streaming through the window caught the scars on his shoulders and back, a testament to everything he’d endured.“What are you doing?" she asked, curiosity laced with amusement as she sat up, the thin sheet slipping from her shoulders to reveal her bare skin to the warm sun.Travis didn't answer. He bent over the desk in the corner, picking up a few papers and something else she couldn't quite see. His broad shoulders were tense, his movements deliberate yet unhurried.Laura watched him with a mix of intrigue and affection, her head tilting slightly as she tried to piece together what he was up to. Then, finally, he turned around, holding something in his hands.Walking back, he knelt in front of her on the bed, naked, exposed, and utterly endearing in his quiet confidence.He handed her a delicately folded paper rose, the edges a little uneven but made with painstaking care.The skill had been learned from his father. Every morning, Jedediah would sit at the kitchen table with the day's newspaper and deftly fold a paper flower to present to Constance. It became a quiet ritual, one Travis had watched countless times. His father would make each flower with the same measured concentration, folding and twisting until the paper resembled something beautiful. Constance never knew what to do with them all; she used to get annoyed, especially when the house started overflowing with the little creations.She used to burn them in winter, in the fireplace, only saving the ones with colorful patterns or headlines significant to her. Jedediah hadn't said a word to the flames licking up his work; the morning after, he simply made her another flower.It was something Travis never forgot, even when so much else about his family fell apart. But though he seldom indulged in the memory—too bittersweet after all that had happened—this small skill, this little bit of patience and precision, was something he had wanted to share with Laura.He'd most likely never tell her where he learned it, not after everything she'd endured at his family's hands. But that was beside the point. This was a thing he could give her, something only hers, untied to the history of those days.Laura blinked, her lips parting in pure and utter surprise. "For me?"Travis nodded, his soft and serious face leaned slowly forward to tuck the paper flower behind her ear, settling it snug against the strands of her gold hair.Neither said a word for a second or two. Laura's hand came up to the rose stroking the folds of it, as thin as tissue paper, a smile creasing across her mouth.“You’re something else, Sheriff,” she murmured.“And you’re my everything,” he replied quietly, his voice steady, even as his ears turned faintly red.Laura smiled at him, her fingers trailing from his knee upward, featherlight, to rest over his heart. She could feel the steady, thundering beat of it beneath her palm, anchoring her in this moment."So," she said, her lips quirking in a teasing smile, "have we finished your list?"Travis’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her chest ache. “I’ve got a lot more on my list,” he said quietly, “but it’ll take years to finish.”“I like the sound of that,” she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. “But what about for today?”“For today,” he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion, “it’s done.”Her smile widened as she leaned into him, capturing his lips in a slow, unhurried kiss that was full of all the tenderness built between them. Her fingers slid to the back of his neck, threading through his hair as she gently pulled him with her, guiding him down as she lay back on the bed.Travis followed her without hesitation, his body completely covering hers as their lips met again and again. The taste of her, the feel of her beneath him—it was intoxicating and overwhelming, everything he could have never dared hope would be. They kissed tenderly at first, drawing out the moment, their laughter weaving in and out between touching.But Laura's hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, urging him closer, deeper. The kiss grew desperate, her fingers threading through the strands, pulling and twisting as though she couldn't get enough. She arched her back, her chest meeting his, and the warmth of her body, of her breasts against him— seemed to burn through his skin. She was consuming him in every sense, her lips moving fervently against his, making his pulse race like never before.As Laura's legs rose around his waist, the feel of her heat and the hardness against her sent them rhythm electric waves; deepening kiss now, with new urgency.Travis reluctantly broke the kiss, his breathing labored as he laid his forehead against hers, taking a moment to catch his breath. Her hands were still in his hair, tugging him close, and for a moment, it made his resolution falter."I—" His voice was low and hesitant, laced with longing and restraint. "I don't have any condoms here."Laura laughed softly, her breath brushing against his lips. “It’s okay, I got this. Stop overthinking.” Her hands slid to his shoulders, pulling him closer as her lips ghosted over his neck. “Just let yourself go, Travs. There’s no wrong turns here.”He breathed shakily, the words unraveling something tightly coiled inside him, and leaned down to kiss her once more. This time, he let himself go in it, his world shrinking to the inconsequentialness of everything that was beyond them.He kissed down her body with a tenderness almost reverent; his lips lingered on every curve, every hollow, as if to commit her to memory. His mouth pressed against her shoulder, then along her collarbone, leaving a warm trail of deliberate intent as he pressed lower. The soft hitch of her breath, the slight trembling of her body beneath him, was its own kind of music—a rhythm to which he instinctively moved in time.Her skin was soft, warmer than he had expected, and impossibly inviting. Travis let his mouth explore in no hurry, savoring the way her body arched into his touch, silently begging for more. Those sensitive spots he found—they were like small secrets: moments of caught breaths or whispered names in manners that sent shivers down his spine.He moved his hands to her breasts, cradling them gently as he slid his thumbs across her nipples. Laura's back arched further, her breath catching in her throat as he teased her sensitive peaks. He circled them with his thumbs, working them between his fingers, relishing the way they hardened under his touch. His lips followed suit, sucking one peaked nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue as he heard her moan softly above him. The sound filled him with a primeval need, driving him deeper.Without breaking the contact, he eased her back against the bed, his hands still busy exploring every nook of her breasts. Her legs wrapped around his waist, urging him closer, and he couldn't help but give in. With a groan, he released the nipple he got captive between his teeth, and with a last kiss he kept moving down. His teeth grazed over her ribs, playful nips that made her laugh softly at first, the sound morphing into a gasp as his tongue trailed over the newly sensitized skin. She was warm beneath him, alive in ways that made him feel more grounded and yet untethered all at once."Travis," she whispered, her voice half a plea, half a promise, and it made him want to give her everything he had.His hands followed his lips, and the calloused tips stroked and explored her as if trying to learn something. They skimmed down the sides, the curve of her waist, the dip at her hips, worshipping every inch they touched. He couldn't get over the reactions of her body, so instinctive: the shifting of her legs, heavier breathing, the pounding of her heart beneath his touch as if echoing his own.When he finally settled between her legs, his kisses lingering on the soft skin of her inner thighs, her hand instinctively reached for his hair, tangling her fingers into it. He hesitated for a moment, looking up at her. The vulnerability in her gaze was mixed with something deeper—trust, longing, and a hunger that rivaled his own.Then he leaned in and tasted her, his lips moving slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the moment forever. The sound she made—a soft, unguarded cry—was like nothing he'd ever heard. It vibrated through him, heating his blood, steadying his purpose.He did not hurry, every movement thought about, every stroke of his tongue aimed at wringing more of those divine sounds from her, making her bow and quiver beneath him. Her fingers dug into his hair; her wordless pleadings filled the air between them, and he knew, beyond any doubt whatsoever, this was the most important thing he'd ever done.Her cries echoed through the room, a symphony against the walls and meant only for him. He had never known anything to feel so intimate, to consume him so. Twisting hands in the sheets, her back arched off the bed as she whispered his name in a broken, desperate gasp.Hearing her like this, seeing her like this—it undid him. Laura Kearney, fierce and unyielding, was laid bare before him, trusting him, wanting him, needing him.Her breathing hitched as his tongue danced in circles around her clit, teasing and sending her insane with lust. His hand curled around her hip, anchoring her while he concentrated on sending pleasure soaring through her veins. She moaned out his name, her body arching off the bed as he expertly worked her over."Travis," she breathed, her voice hoarse with need. "I'm close." She threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him closer, deeper. He groaned, feeling her tightening under him as he worked harder, faster. "Oh god, Travis," she cried out, her hips bucking violently as she came undone.As they began catching their breaths, Travis moved back up, pressing kisses to her stomach, her ribs, collarbone, until she pulled him to another hungry kiss full of love. Her hand stroked along his cheek; her touch gentle yet possessive. "If I'd known you could use your mouth like that," she teased, "I would've been more cooperative at the station."He laughed, panting, so pleased. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it first, Kearney." She smirked, rolling her eyes, but there was softness in them too that made him feel they shared a secret.Her face suddenly changed to a thoughtful one before kissing the tip of his nose. “Travis," she whispered, a mix of longing and reassurance in her voice, her hands framing his face. "I need you.”Travis stopped in his tracks, his forehead pressed against hers, his breathing in short gasps, each one shaking with the weight of his thoughts. He closed his eyes, and for a second he was terrified to open them again. His heart pounded, but not out of fear of her or what they were about to share—it was fear of himself, of the man he'd been forced to become in that cell, the choices he'd made to protect her. The weight of the past weighed upon him like a chain, pulling him back into the darkest recesses of his mind. The red room. The cold stone floor beneath their bodies. The desperation in her cries, her voice begging him, pleading with him not to do something he never intended but had to. He could still feel the tremor in her body, hear the raw broken sobs that had shattered the air as he forced her under his body when he had to act like he was forcing himself on her. And above all, the look in her eyes when she'd finally understood—that moment of realization, of trust—when she knew he was trying to save her, even as it tore him apart.It terrified him that he would find himself back there, in that cage, reliving the nightmare. The suffocating red light, the echo of her screams, the gut-wrenching despair of knowing he had to hurt her in a way that wasn't real but felt too real to both of them. The fear clawed at him, insidious and unrelenting, whispering that he was unworthy of this moment, unworthy of her love.And then, her hands were on his face. Her thumbs brushed against his cheeks, warm and grounding, pulling him from the spiral of his mind."Hey," Laura said softly, her voice steady and full of a quiet strength. Her words were like a lifeline, slicing through the fog in his mind. His eyes opened, and he saw her—not the red cage, not the past, but her. She was staring back at him with a small, soft smile, her blue eyes filled with a love and trust that made his chest ache. And then he saw the flower still on her hair, white against golder hair. "There you are. Don't get lost, love. There's nothing in your head for you now. Stay with me." She was beautiful under the afternoon sun. Most beautiful that he would ever deserve. “I’m here,” he whispered again, his voice steadier now, though his heart thundered in his chest. “I’m here. With you.”He swallowed hard, leaning down to kiss her again. It wasn't frantic or desperate this time—it was slow, deliberate, every brush of his lips against hers a promise. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, urging him on, and he felt something unravel deep inside him, something dark and heavy that had clung to him for too long. Then, finally, shifting between her thighs, his body hovering over hers, he paused for just that beat, his gaze fixed on hers, and her chest rose and fell fast, breath hitching, her legs already loosely wrapped around his waist, yet the heat radiating from her, the way her body seemed to hum with anticipation, made his pulse race with excitement. He was so hard, he could feel it boiling his blood, scorching his skin. Not even the cellar in the middle of the fire had been so suffocating as the heat of her body was. "Laura…" His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, but it carried everything he couldn't say—every word of love, every apology, every fear.She smiled faintly, her fingers tracing patterns on his back, each touch sending shivers through him. "Waiting on you," she breathed, her voice trembling with need. "Please."That one word killed what little resistance was left. With a low groan, he maneuvered himself to her entrance, the head of his cock brushing against her slick folds. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through him that nearly undid him right then. But he held on, gritting his teeth, forcing himself to take it slow.Then he shoved forward, centimeter by tormenting centimeter, until he was all the way inside her.The moment he entered her, it wasn’t just a physical act—it was as if every barrier, every layer of fear and pain, dissolved between them. He moved with reverence born of knowing just how close he'd come to losing her, how much she meant to him, how much of himself he'd entrusted to her without ever saying the words. Strong, calloused hands cradled her like she was some sort of precious, breakable thing—though he knew better.Laura exclaimed his name with surprise and longing in a hoarse voice; she wound her arms tightly around him, pulling him close to her. Her voice reached him, and a shiver shot through him. He buried his face against the crook of her neck, his lips grazing against skin in a silent prayer of thanks.It wasn't hurried or frantic; there was no rush, no desperation. It was slow, deliberate, every movement imbued with a deep, unspoken promise. To him, this wasn't just making love—it was an act of adoration, of worship. He savored every moment, every breath they shared, every shudder of her body beneath his.He was inside her, their bodies moving to a rhythm that seemed as old as time. Laura's breath hitched in a gasp, her hands digging into his shoulders as she arched into him, urging him deeper. Travis groaned, his forehead pressed to hers, their breaths mingling in the space between them.She tilted her head, her lips brushing against the taut column of his neck, and then—she bit down. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to make him gasp, his hips stuttering for a moment before he found his rhythm again. Her tongue flicked over the mark, soothing the slight sting before she sucked on the tender skin, her teeth grazing lightly as she pulled back."Laura…" His voice was harsh, rough, his fingers digging into her hips as he struggled to hold back. The sensation shot straight through him, a mix of pleasure and something almost primal that made his blood burn hotter.She smiled against his neck, her lips curving wickedly. "Mine," she murmured, her voice low and sultry, and a shiver ran down his spine. Her hands slid up his back, her nails lightly scratching the skin as she dragged them upward, leaving faint red trails in their wake."Oh fuck," Travis growled, his hips snapping forward harder now, impaling himself in her. The moan off her skin made his own tense up, the muscles of his body tightening further as she became taut with tension around him. He felt everything: her ragged breath, the catch in her voice, and the way her nails dug deep into his shoulders as she clung to him like a lifeline. It sent him wild to know how much he affected her, how absolutely they were linked in this one moment.Her fingers tangled in his hair, her touch anchoring him in a way that nothing else ever had. She whispered his name once more, soft and breathy, and he felt those words settle deep inside him, carving out a place that belonged to her alone. Every sound she made, each quiet moan and whispered plea, was a melody only he could hear, a symphony that told him he was home.Her hands then traced over his back once more, her fingertips skimming the scars that mapped his body. To anyone else, they might have been reminders of pain and loss, but to her, they were pieces of him—stories of resilience, of survival, of the man he'd become. She caressed them with a tenderness that stole his breath, as if memorizing every mark, every line, so she could carry them with her always.She was his salvation to him, his anchor—the piece of himself he hadn't known had been missing until she'd found him. Fierce and unyielding, brave and wild, and yet, in moments like this, she was so soft it almost broke him. He pulled her closer, his forehead pressed to hers, lips brushing over lips as promises were whispered between them that neither of them needed to hear.He felt her heartbeat against his chest, her rhythm matching his, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the noise in his mind quieted. She was his safe place, the light in the dark, the reason he could finally breathe again.His hands moved over her body, not with urgency but with devotion, mapping every curve and line as if she were a masterpiece he'd been lucky enough to touch. Every kiss, every touch, every movement spoke of a love so deep it terrified him, but he didn't shy away. He couldn't. She was his world, and in this moment, nothing else mattered.As the crescendo in their connection built, it was her voice that pierced through the haze, a call of his name, both a plea and a declaration. Her mouth moved back to his neck, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin just below his ear. “Travis,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “I’m close… don’t stop.”Never. He could not.
His pace quickened, each thrust deliberate, deep, and filled with an intensity that left them both gasping for air. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him even closer, and he could feel her trembling beneath him, teetering on the edge. His hands slid under her, lifting her slightly as he angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out, her back arching off the bed. Her fingernails raked down his back, and he hissed through clenched teeth, the sensation only fueling his need for her.
With a sharp cry, she shattered, her body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He felt it too—her muscles clenching around him, pulling him deeper, drawing him toward his own release.He buried his face in her neck, his breathing hot against the skin as he tried to hold on, make the feeling of her coming apart beneath him last. But it was too much—the heat, the pressure—and with a groan he let go. His hips jerked; he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the strength of it. He surrender himself to this goddess, and it wasn't with fear or hesitation but with the quiet certainty of knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.For a moment, everything disappeared—the room, the world, the weight of their history. There was just this; her body beneath his, the echo of her heartbeat against his own, the warmth of her skin against his. They clung to each other, breathing raggedly, their hearts pounding out a rhythm in unison.It wasn’t just passion—it was healing. A mending of broken pieces, a promise in every touch that they would never let the other go.She was the love of his life, and for the first time, he let himself believe he deserved her.As they lay tangled together afterward, their breaths mingling, Travis held her close, his lips brushing against her temple.“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion.Laura smiled against his skin, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “And you’re mine.”They remained wrapped in each other's arms, lying on the bed while the sun seeped in through the opened window as they spread lazy patterns on their skin. Travis kissed the top of Laura's head as his nose nuzzled her hair with one of those tendernesses caresses that only a love as strong as theirs could provide. He held her tight, relishing how perfectly her tiny frame fit into his.He knew that this wasn't going to be permanent—the fact that one day she would have to leave his bed, his house, and would get back to school. But all such thoughts, he cast deep inside, burying them in the corners of his brain. Not now. Now belonged to him. This moment, this present, was his, and he wouldn't let anything take this away.The room was silent, taut in the gold late afternoon light that filtered through the curtains, falling across the room and softening everything. Their breathing was regular, joining the slight rustling of leaves outside. Every so often, the creaking of the bed sounded louder in the silence, marking the minutes stretching to something unmeasured.The sheets were hot, tangled; she was half lying on top of him, the feel of her weight a comforting anchor point with his rising and falling chest. His hand idly ran along her back, tracing invisible lines over the smooth rise and fall of skin, calloused fingertips brushing an infrequent freckle or mark to engrave into memory.For a long time, Laura was silent, her breathing so light and easy, the tips of her fingers tracing very small, absent circles over his collarbone. Laura shifted a little, her voice muffled against his chest. "We probably should get up," she said, though there was little conviction in her voice.Travis chuckled low, his fingers trailing lazily down her back. "You in a hurry to go somewhere?”She huffed a small laugh and tilted her head up to look at him, her cheeks already tinged pink. "Well, I could really use a shower. I'm not saying I regret anything, but, uh… let's just say I'm feeling the evidence of it everywhere. And it’s sticky." His laugh was deeper this time, rumbling in his chest as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Alright. You hit the shower. I'll get something started in the kitchen. Neither of us has eaten since yesterday, and I'm not about to let you spend the rest of the day without a proper lunch."Laura arched a brow, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. "Domestic Travis Hackett. I’ve missed you.""Don't push it, Kearney," he said with mock sternness, though the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement.She sat up, stretching with a contented sigh before glancing down at her naked body. "Got anything I can wear?"Travis slid out of bed, moving to the dresser. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a soft, oversized pair of flannel pajamas. Turning back to her, he held them out with a small smirk. "These'll do?""Perfect," Laura said, taking them with a grin.She took a step toward the door, and Travis caught her wrist, turning her back. He leaned down and kissed her, soft and slow, the kind of kiss that spoke of promises unspoken. Bare as they were, the kiss held a weight of intimacy that made her breath catch."Shower," he murmured against her lips, pulling back with a lopsided smile."Food," she said, her voice light but her cheeks flared as she escaped from the room.In the bathroom, Laura caught her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks darkened further as her eyes fell on the faint red marks along her neck and collarbone, remnants of Travis's lips and teeth. A small smile played at her lips as she adjusted the rose he'd tucked into her hair, still perfectly in place. She plucked it out gently and held it up, turning it in her fingers.Laura drew the paper rose to her nose, cradling it daintily under the faintest whiff it might hold of anything other than simply Travis's skilled hands folding it: she closed her eyes, let it brush once across her lips, her fingers running lightly around its edges. She allowed the gentle feeling in that for an instant—something soft and warmly, loving, intensely intimate.But as her eyes opened, she was met with her reflection staring back from the mirror. Her cheeks flushed even further as it glared at herself—smiling at a paper flower like a love-sick teenager. She moaned low and rolled her eyes to herself."God, Laura, get a grip," she muttered, shaking her head as she set the paper rose down on the sink, careful not to get it wet.The cool water was pure bliss as it eased the lingering aches, every drop washing away the tension and fatigue clinging to her body. Lost in her head, Laura let herself linger, her mind replaying the last several hours, just how impossibly raw and perfect it'd all felt. Finally emerging from the shower, she dried herself off, then slipped into the flannel pajamas Travis had bought her. Softness was a balm against her skin. But the pants were way too long, so she had to roll them up before she could have an accident. Then she noticed something in the sink.The paper rose. She picked it up and stroked its folded petals with her fingers. A soft smile played on her lips as she came out of the bathroom and walked to the bedroom, thinking about placing the rose delicately on her side of the nightstand. She stopped, her eyes falling on something that hadn't registered before: the book she'd been reading months ago when she'd last been here. It was still lying there, closed, waiting as if it were only moments since she had left it.Her eyebrows rose in surprise, and she picked it up with care, almost as if she was rediscovering a small treasure. Flipping through the pages, she found the mark where she'd stopped reading. Without a second thought, she tucked the paper rose inside, pressing its stem between the pages so that its bloom peeked out from the top. The rose would feel the gentle brush of her fingers again as she would place the book down, her silent reminder from this day.And her new bookmark.Satisfied, Laura padded toward the door but stopped short, a faint frown tugging at her lips. Suspicion tickled at her that all was not quite right in her small world. She had expected, by now, to catch the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, but instead, the air was quiet and still, bereft of even the comforting sizzle of bacon and the peculiar smell of eggs frying in the kitchen.Curious—and a little skeptical—she stepped out of the bedroom onto the hallway, light on her feet and with a growing smirk. Either Travis had decided to skip his unofficial breakfast duties or was up to something else."Didn't think you'd leave me starving to death, Sheriff," she called playfully, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "What's taking so long? You better not be—"She froze mid-step as she came to the door frame to the living room, her playful tone dying in her throat.Travis was seated upright on the couch, his posture tense, every line of his body coiled like a spring. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze flicked to her briefly, a fleeting look that carried a mix of warning and worry, before snapping back to whoever—or whatever—was seated across from him.Laura couldn't see who it was; the angle of the wall blocked her view. But her heart sank as her eyes darted to the doorframe. The line of salt was gone.Laura edged closer to the doorframe, her steps slow and calculated to allow more of the room to be revealed with each one. As she rounded the corner, her eyes fell on a man seated casually in one of the armchairs. Not just any man.Henry Lewis.Her brow furrowed in instant suspicion as she stepped fully into the room, her movements deliberate."Ah, Ms. Kearney," Lewis greeted, his voice almost jovial. "So glad you could join us."Laura's eyes narrowed as she took him in, then flicked to Travis.If she hadn't been furious at the intrusion, she might have burst into laughter. Travis, poor, mortified Travis, sat stiffly on the couch, his neck flushed red—not just from embarrassment, she was certain, but from the marks of her lips and teeth she had left on him not an hour ago. His ears burned just as brightly, and his hair was a mess. He looked every inch a man who'd been interrupted at the worst possible time. And, if Laura was sure of anything, he still smelled like sex.She decided to take that as a point for the two of them."Would you like to sit?" Lewis gestured toward the armchair next to his, his politeness grating against her nerves. "There's something I'd like to discuss."Laura ignored the chair like it carried the plague, striding purposefully to the couch and dropping herself firmly beside Travis. Her shoulder brushed his, a quiet statement of solidarity."What do you want?" she asked bluntly, her voice edged with irritation."Straight to the point. I like that," Lewis replied, as pleasant as could be. He nodded toward the coffee table, where his fingers tapped twice on the red, scorched notebook that lay there.Laura's breath caught, her eyes wide. "That's mine," she said, her voice snapping out like a whip."Yes, I know," Lewis replied matter-of-factly. "And that's precisely why I'm here."He uncrossed his legs, leaning forward slightly, his sharp gaze flicking between them."What would you say," he began, his voice measured and deliberate, "if I offered the two of you a job?"Travis's head turned sharply towards Laura.Travis Hackett, as he once was, had always been a man of hierarchy: respect to authority, his superiors, his parents, anyone who had outranked him. It came second in nature to him, instinctive in his very being. Travis Hackett of the past would sit ramrod straight and take the words of the FBI with solemn respect.But Travis Hackett wasn't a Hackett anymore. Not entirely.He'd been broken in the same red cage where Laura Kearney had been torn apart—the same red room, in which they were made to survive the worst of themselves and each other. Somewhere along the way, they'd mended. Neatly was not quite exactly a fair word. Pieces of who they were didn't fit anymore, and neither of them had cared enough to make it work. They'd come back together fractured, more whole than before, but just as wild, just as untamed.As Travis watched Laura's lips part, he knew exactly what was coming. It was a knowing look, one born of months of shared chaos, of understanding her better than he understood himself sometimes.Laura Kearney was about to say the most unapologetic, outrageous, and raw thing this FBI agent had likely ever heard in his career: words that would send shockwaves through his carefully constructed authority, shaking it to its core. She was never one for half-measures. She did not give a damn about decorum or rank, and she wasn't about to start now. Sharp would be her response—cutting, even—a test of the very limits of the agent's assumptions about who had the upper hand in this room.The Hackett part of him—the obedient dog, ever conditioned to the command of a master—was gone.In its place, there was something else entirely. Something fierce, and unforgiving. A part of Laura Kearney.And the bit of him that was a little more Kearney than Hackett these days?It smiled.