Page 2 of A Shadow of Betrayal

I let my eyelids flutter shut, and the muscles in my body finally relax. I’m just going to sit here for a few minutes, and then I can get ready for bed.

TWO

Meyer

A loud sound startles me from sleep, and I dart up on the couch with a gasp, then groan when my neck protests. A throbbing pain shoots down from my neck and into my spine, letting me know I must have fallen asleep with my head at an odd angle, and I tweaked the muscles in my neck and back. Milo’s little head darts up from where he fell asleep, and he stares at me for a moment, blinking his big blue eyes before he stands and stretches, then jumps nimbly to the floor with a flick of his tail.

“Freaking perfect,” I moan, reaching out and rubbing at the tight muscles that are knotted under my mess of blonde hair, wincing in pain when I rub over a particularly sore spot. Blinking my eyes a few times, I try to get rid of my blurry vision and shove myself to my feet, grimacing when I see the clock hanging on the other side of the room, showing me the ungodly hour of two in the morning.

Suddenly, bright light streaks through the windows, muted slightly by the drawn curtains, moments before thunder booms in the distance, explaining the loud sound that had startled me awake. I can hear the rain pelt against the windows of the cabin, the sound much louder than normal for a simple thunderstorm. Those dark clouds I saw earlier must have held a bigger punch than I initially thought.

“Way to go, Meyer,” I mutter, hating myself for falling asleep while grabbing my now warm, half-empty beer on the side table and walking into the kitchen. I dump out the contents in the sink before rubbing at my eyes again and praying the storm passes by morning, so I don't have to bike in the rain. I could possibly use the truck if it hasn’t stopped raining, but that vehicle is a little more than a pile of rust and bolts. The steering is completely messed up, and the brakes are bad. The last time I drove it, I practically had to put my foot through the floor in order to get it to stop. Unfortunately, I feel safer riding my bike in a storm than driving that thing.

Frowning, I think about how Grandpa would have changed the brakes out months ago if he was still here. He would be upset knowing I’m biking everywhere, especially at night, but it can't be helped. I can't afford to bring the truck to a mechanic.

Glancing back at the clock, I sigh, knowing I only have a little more than three hours left before I need to be up to get ready for work. I wish I could call in and tell Mags I won't be there, but I already know I won't. I need the money, and I would never leave Mags to deal with the morning crowd of truckers and farmers coming in for their breakfast.

More lightning flashes, and my eyes snap up to the small kitchen window, the only one I don't have covered with curtains due to its small size. I watch as the light illuminates the dark night just long enough to see the large pine trees that circle the perimeter of the yard shake in the blustery winds. Sheets of rain pour from the sky, and thunder cracks through the air, making me jump at how close the sound is.

“Jesus Christ,” I murmur, taking a step back and moving to turn away, but I pause when movement outside by a nearby tree catches my eye. The front porch light is still on and casting just enough light that I can vaguely see something stagger through the trees before falling into a heap on the ground where it stays.

“What the—?” I whisper, leaning over the kitchen sink so I can peer through the window in an attempt to see what is lying on the ground. The movement of whatever is out there is too jerky and slow to be anything but an animal; the creatures that haunt me are fast, almost graceful in their movements as they glide through the night. I strain my eyes and curse when I can't decipher what it is. My curiosity peaks, but I shake my head.

“Don’t do it, Meyer. That's how stupid people die in movies,” I tell myself, pulling away from the window and moving from the kitchen, Milo weaving between my legs and my heart pounding in my ears as I go. Something tugs in my chest as I picture an injured animal outside in the dark, rain battering its body while lying all alone.

What if it's a deer? Or a dog?

I curse and spin, rushing back to the window and going up on my toes, looking at the dark lump lying on the ground. It's too big to be a dog or cat, so that eases my mind just a little knowing a cute, harmless animal isn't hurt. When lightning flashes again, lighting up my entire yard with its nearness, I gasp when I make out the form of not an animal, but a man.

My heart lodges in my throat, and I shake my head. “Move,” I beg him, my eyes darting around my dark yard to make sure the nightmares aren't around, then fall back to him. “Get up and walk out of here,” I beg the man, fear and panic racing through me when he stays on the ground, so still I’m not sure if he's even alive.

I can't go out there! What if he's dangerous? Some freaky serial killer that is tricking me into coming to him?

I could call the Sheriff, but the last time I called him about poachers that were hunting on my land illegally, he snorted and hung up on me. The time before that, I had a man that kept hanging around the diner and would follow me home. I reported it to one of the deputies, who called only thirty minutes later to tell me that the Sheriff had looked into it and determined there wasn't a problem.

The local Sheriff, aka asshole extraordinaire, Russel Hurst, and my grandpa had bad blood between them. And it seems that whatever grudge the Sheriff had against Grandpa has now extended to me after his passing, even though I have only talked to the man maybe a handful of times since coming here eight years ago.

“Shit!” I grind out, grabbing a few of my knives off the counter and the tub of salt from the cabinet before twisting on my heel and dashing for the front door.

I can’t leave a person out there like that, but I’m not stupid enough to go out unprotected. I’ve used these blades before, and even though I’m not the best, I can defend myself with them when necessary. After several hours of practice tossing the damn things at the big tree on the other side of the house, I can finally hit the target. I have about a dozen or more tiny scars on my fingers and hands as evidence of my practice. I’m just not so good with the up close and personal attacks, so hopefully, this guy won’t try to hurt me.

I jump when Milo suddenly lets out a low growl, followed by an angry hiss, then bolts upstairs. I pause for a moment, briefly considering following him and grabbing the rifle that is in my closet, but I shake my head. If this guy needs help getting inside, I'm going to need both hands free to support him.

The rain beats down on the roof of my covered porch when I stall there, scanning over the yard a second time to make sure we are truly alone before making a mad dash for the man who is still lying where he fell only minutes ago. As I get closer, I can tell he's much bigger than I originally thought, and I hope he will be conscious enough to help me move him inside. There, he can use my phone and call whoever he needs to come and get him. Then I can go back to sleep and pretend none of this happened.

Lightning flashes, making me cringe and momentarily blinding me with a sudden flash of white light as I fall to my knees next to the eerily still man. Mud instantly soaks through my pants as I lean forward, reaching out and shaking the man to see if he will wake up. He’s crumpled on his side and soaked through from the rain. Black hair is plastered to his head, and red blood pours down his face from a jagged cut at his temple.

“Hey, can you hear me?” I practically yell, the torrent of rain already soaking through my clothes as I move my hands to his shoulder and push him to lie on his back. “Dang, you're heavy,” I grunt, using all my weight in order to move the massive guy in front of me. A pained moan breaks from his lips as I force him to his back, and relief hits me in the chest as I realize he’s not dead. I can work with that; if I ended up with a dead man in my yard, I can only imagine how the Sheriff would spin that.

My relief is short-lived, however, when my eyes fall from the man's dirty face to his stomach, where there are three long lacerations. They look alarmingly familiar, and I wince, my back tensing at the memory that I have long tried to forget. My attention snaps back to the present when I notice there’s a large pool of blood under him. I quickly look down at where I’m kneeling, realizing that it’s not only mud that has soaked through my pants but the man's blood as well.

“Oh, crap!” I whisper in panic, darting my hands out to put pressure against the bleeding wounds. Thick, warm liquid instantly oozes from between my fingers, and I look back up to the man's face when he moans in pain. His thick black lashes flutter but remain closed. “How the hell are you still alive?” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in shock as I look back at my house, blinking through the rain that is pelting against my face.

I've got to get him inside and call an ambulance, but I’m worried about taking the pressure off his wounds and him bleeding out. Looking at the extent of his injuries and the amount of blood that covers him and the ground, I’m guessing it won't take much more for him to die. The wind swirls around us, and I startle when a low growl comes from behind me. My eyes instantly slam shut in horror as I slowly turn to look over my shoulder, praying to any God that will listen that the sound isn't what I think it is.

Twigs snap and crunch under heavy paws as pitch-black eyes lock with my own, making the hairs on my arms stand on end and my heart stall in my chest. The air wheezes from my lungs as I watch the monster that haunts my nightmares slowly stalk out from the trees, its eyes moving from me to the man lying on the ground.

A dangerous rumble leaves its throat before it tips its black head back and howls to the sky, the noise is so loud that I gasp and bring my hands to my ears in an attempt to block out the sound.

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