Page 79 of Hellbent
“And he sentyou?” He lifts a brow and his mouth twitches with what looks like amusement, but he steps back, waving me through with his hand. “Okay. Kitchen.”
I step past him, catching his scent as I walk by, cedar, leather, soap and something else…something warm and familiar.
Him.
My pulse jitters, but I keep moving. Keep my focus on the task.
The box on the kitchen floor is bigger than I expected. Nearly three feet long, thick cardboard reinforced with plastic straps, edges dented from being dragged instead of carried. Unless it’s full of styrofoam popcorn, it doesn’t look like the kind of thing I can lift myself.
I crouch, fingers searching for any kind of grip, and try to lift it.
My arms strain. My legs burn. It barely budges. It shifts an inch before I have to let go, letting it drop back onto the floor.
I exhale sharply, adjust my stance, wedge my fingers under the edge again. The weight is brutal—not just dense but awkward, like the guts of a car packed into a coffin. Gritting my teeth, I plant my feet, grip the box with everything I’ve got, and try again. Once again, the box slides about an inch before my arms give out.
I don’t know what’s inside. An engine block? A lead-filled safe?
“Need help?” comes Ryder’s voice behind me.
I don’t turn around. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
One more time.I lean into it, using my legs, and hold my breath as I strain, lifting it a laughable half inch before gravity wins again.
There is no way I can lift this. I’ll have to go back to the garage and tell Damian to get his damn box himself.
I turn, flushed with heat and heart hammering, ready to make my excuses and leave, when Ryder steps past me, crouches, and hoists the box up smoothly, muscles flexing obscenely up the length of his arms.
He casts me a look over his shoulder—brow arched, the faintest flicker of smugness in his eyes—and I exhale through my nose, stepping back.
Fine.
Without a word, he turns and strides toward the door, the box solid in his arms like it weighs nothing.
I should say something. Bite out a thanks. Instead, I just stare at his biceps tensing, huge shoulders flexing under his shirt, before I snap my mouth shut, and follow him outside.
The late afternoon air is heavy, thick with the building heat of the day, cicadas humming, sun gleaming off the windshield. Ryder’s hair, tied back loose, catches the light, turning gold.
He moves like he always does—at ease in his body, efficient, sure of himself in a way that makes something in my chest pull tight. For the first time, I really consider what it would be like to follow Ryder into battle. To trust him when everything is on the line.
He radiates power. The sheer force of his certainty, the way he moves like he’s already calculated every outcome, would make anyone feel safe. He has the kind of strength that makes people fall in line without question.
I can’t imagine what the four of them must’ve gone through together. But I kind of get what it means to stand behind a manlike that. He feels unbreakable. Even when he’s pissing me off, he’s the one I’d bet on.
The truth is—I already have. This place runs because of him. And I’m still in it, still here, because he hasn’t decided otherwise.
I think back to waking up in his house for the first time. The weight in my limbs, the grogginess in my head. The remnants of a dream that turned out to be memory—a Viking with rough hands and blond hair lifting me from the cold and carrying me inside.
When I needed someone most, it was Ryder who found me. Ryder who brought me to safety.
The tailgate creaks as Ryder lowers it and I blink, the weight of my thoughts settling as he loads the box effortlessly into the truck bed, metal groaning. Then he straightens and turns, leaning against the side of the truck and crossing his arms.
I should get in the truck. Say thank you. Leave. But Ryder doesn’t move, and neither do I.
His dark eyes run over my face, searching for something, and finally he says: “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
I shift my weight and kick at the gravel. “Yeah, well…been busy.”
He arches a brow. “Too busy to stop avoiding me?”
