Page 112 of See How They Hide

Here, he was trapped. Out there, he might have a chance to escape.

“Very well, I will accept your generous offer.”

She smiled. “I am truly glad for that. Anton, see to him. Oh, and, Agent Costa? One step out of line, and you’ll be on your knees. Don’t test me.”

Anton unshackled Matt and pushed him up the stairs. They walked across the small village. It was freezing here, and he wasn’t dressed for the weather. But he went where Anton led him.

The village was...pretty. Pinpoint lights in the trees, ground lighting that rose above the snow. Small cabins that lined the path, some that were built up on the hill. It was a charming, quaint camp.

But he saw no one. He heard faint music, the clanking of dishes, the quiet clucks of chickens. He smelled hay and fresh snow and food.

His stomach growled.

But everyone was inside their cabins. No one watched as Anton brought Matt to the two-story house on the edge of a wide-open square with a huge ancient tree in the center. Benches had been built all around, as if they had meetings or plays here.

Anton brought him upstairs. “There is a washroom where you can clean up, clothing in the dresser. Someone will fetch you in fifteen minutes. I expect you clean and dressed for Calliope, or I will take you back to the pit.”

Anton left. The lock clicked in the door.

He was still a prisoner.

Matt listened and when he heard Anton go back downstairs, he thoroughly searched the room for anything he could use as a weapon.

The double bed was solid wood, hand carved. No screws or bolts. Beautiful craftsmanship, he thought. A dresser and rocking chair were the only other pieces of furniture. Again, handmade with no sharp edges, metal, or loose parts. He inspected every inch. He could remove a drawer, but it would be unwieldy to use, other than to maybe hit someone over the head as they were coming into the room. There was men’s clothing in the drawers—a handmade sweater, loose-fitting drawstring pants, underwear, thermals. He closed the drawer without changing.

Two sconces were bolted into the wall on either side of the lone window. He could break the glass and possibly use it as a weapon, but that would be dangerous for him as well with no guarantee that he’d be able to escape.

Especially since he had no idea where he was.

The bathroom had only a wash basin and toilet. They had running water here, which was pretty amazing considering they were in the middle of nowhere. They must have a well—likely, he thought, if the property had been partly developed when Athena and her husband moved here. But to support the entire town of more than a hundred people? Did they have an engineer in their midst? Or learn to do it themselves?

On a built-in ledge there was a flimsy travel toothbrush, tiny toothpaste, small bar of homemade soap, and hand towel. No mirror.

He washed his hands and face, wincing at the bolts of pain from cuts on his scalp. The water he rinsed off was pink, and as he dabbed the cuts, the cloth became covered in splotches of red, but nothing appeared to be bleeding heavily. He ran wet fingers through his hair, bit back a cry when they ran over a large bump on the back of his skull.

He could fight, but it wouldn’t be pretty, and a large man like Anton would take him down really quick in his current condition.

Matt could escape, but it was night and the temperatures would be in the twenties. Even though no snow was expected, he would freeze to death in these clothes. And he knew from Riley that there were cameras covering at least part of the property. He had no idea where they were or which direction to go. It would practically be suicide to walk into the mountains at night.

His only real option was to play along. Wait this out. His team would have a plan. They would find him—or he would try to escape.

Because there was no doubt in his mind that Calliope would never let him leave Havenwood alive.

Evan washed up, then sat in his room staring at the wall but not seeing anything. Calliope had told him to rest because he looked tired; he was tired. He’d only had a couple hours sleep each night over the last five weeks. Because of the dreams.

He had hoped being back in Havenwood would make him feel better. Havenwood was worth protecting. It was worth saving. Anyone who left was a risk to them.

Not Jane. Jane was a risk to no one. She was going to college and living a good life. It’s what you would have wanted for Timmy if he hadn’t been mauled to death.

He loved Calliope and loved Havenwood. He’d missed this place something fierce when he was Outside. All he could think about was coming home, taking care of his responsibilities. He had convinced himself that once he was back, all these doubts and pains would disappear.

Now that he was home, he realized they would never go away.

He had killed a bright star. He was hollow and empty inside.

Anton came to his door. “Evan?”

“Yes.”

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