Page 50 of Understanding Fate

An hour later, we’re parked outside a small cabin tucked a mile off the main road. The similarities to Ghost’s cabin are startling, and I find myself paralyzed in my seat.

Cain notices my discomfort and reaches for my hand.

“Everything ok, Firefly?”

Of course not! I’m back in a cabin in the woods, albeit I’m much happier with this kidnapping than the last, but I still don't love the parallels.

“Yeah, fine. I just need a minute,” I force out, trying to keep my breathing regular despite my anxiety rising.

“Talk to me,” he says, dropping his voice and stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.

“Hudson took me to a cabin before meeting Big Tony,” I whisper, not daring to look at him. Silence follows, and I try not to read into his pause.

“We can find another place to stay if this is too hard. I know you went through a lot in those two days, and I can’t imagine how you kept it together, Firefly,” he says, voicing nothing but reassurance in his tone.

I risk looking over at him only to find understanding in his expression. No judgment, no irritation. Just understanding.

It gives me the strength I need to get out of the truck.

“Thank you, Candy Cain, but I can do this,” I say, unbuckling and opening my door. He’s at my side of the truck before my feet hit the ground.

“Hang on there, Firefly. I need to check the area first,” he says, dropping a quick kiss on my head before jogging up to the cabin and doing a circle around the outside. He tests the front door and it opens without issue.

No locks?

I guess not a lot of people come out here.

He disappears inside for a minute before resurfacing and walking back to my side of the truck, shaking his head and rubbing his nose.

“Everything ok?” I ask, trying to read his face.

“Yeah, all clear, no tracks in the snow, and it doesn’t appear anyone has been inside recently,” he says before grabbing the bags from the truck bed.

“Then why the face? Is it a mess inside or something?” I ask, following behind him to help.

“No, it just smells odd. I can’t quite place it,” he says, handing me two bags of chips before taking all the other groceries himself.

Walking in the front door, I inhale, hoping to help identify the odor—only, there isn’t one. At least not one you wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this. It smells like the pine logs that make up the walls. It's a crisp, clean, woodsy scent that fits the space completely.

The whole cabin is open. There is a living room with a comfortable oversized couch, a small four-person dining table, and an outdated kitchen with a fridge that looks as old as me.

“It smells exactly like outside in here. How is that odd?” I ask, setting the chips on the table and taking in the cozy details of the place. Blankets are placed on the couch and in a basket by the fireplace, wood carvings decorate the mantle, and stunning animal art covers the walls.

This is like a storybook.

“Oh, I smell that too, but remember, my nose picks up things that yours doesn’t,” he says, unpacking the bags he carried in a single trip.

Add one more thing I can’t do.

I can’t keep myself from being kidnapped, I can’t physically beat any of them, I can’t even smell the way they can.

It hits me that no matter how long I fight, it will never be enough.

I will spend my life running, hiding, and waiting for the day when Cain, or Ghost, or Dante can’t rush in and save the day.

I’m done letting this world scare me into submission.

I’m taking control.

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