Page 2 of Hellbent
I shove the blanket off—immediately regretting it as a wave of dizziness hits me. I squeeze my eyes shut until it passes, and when I open them again, I spot my Chucks neatly set beside the fireplace. My dress is still on, my feet in only dingy, threadbare socks, butsomebody took my shoes off.
Where am I?
I get up cautiously and make my way toward the foyer, eyeing the coats hanging on the wall. If I can grab one and get out before anyone notices—
Then what?
My thoughts are interrupted by the thud of boots outside, and the faint shift of a shadow under the door. My heart slams against my ribs just as the door swings open, and a man steps inside.
I take an automatic step back, my fingers tingling with a rush of panic, and he freezes.
“Whoa.” He lifts his hands like I’m a spooked animal.
I take another step back, scanning the room for another exit, anything I can use as a weapon. The man is tall, dark-haired, and clean-cut. He looks like someone who could code an app or negotiate a software deal over lunch.
His green eyes flick over me, taking in my state—short dress, dirty socks, and probably pretty wild-eyed.
“You’re okay,” he says gently. “My name is Jake. We found you on the porch.”
We.
I glance behind him, looking for others, my pulse thrumming. He steps forward slightly, and I move back again.
“We found you unconscious,” he continues. “You were freezing.”
He doesn’t look like O.D.—no tattoos, hard to picture him straddling a Harley. But I’ve learned not to trust appearances. The Order of Disorder had clean-cut monsters, too.
He spreads his hands wider, showing me his palms. “You’re safe. I promise.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My mind is spinning, trying to assess whether he’s a threat.
And then a wave of exhaustion washes over me, making my knees buckle.
The man—Jake—lunges forward, catching my arms before I hit the floor.
“Whoa,” he murmurs, steadying me. His hands are firm, strong but careful. “Let’s get you back to the couch.”
I don’t fight him. I can’t.
The soft pillow smells familiar now, like wood smoke and something clean. I sink into it, surrendering to sleep once more.
I wake up to voices, low and murmuring, beyond the dining room.
Male voices.
It’s dark outside and the flames in the fireplace are dying. My stomach clenches. For a second, I forget where I am, but then it all comes rushing back.
“I don’t like it,” someone grumbles.
“You never do.” I recognize Jake’s voice from earlier.
“She could be a plant,” comes a third voice, deep and gruff. “You don’t just find girls like that on your doorstep.”
“She was freezing to death,” Jake counters. “She’s scared.”
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be careful,” a fourth voice interjects. It’s calm and measured. The moment he speaks, the others go quiet.
A leader.I can tell by the way he speaks. The way they don’t argue with him. It’s the same kind of authority Billy had over the club.
