Page 58 of Obliterated
He scoffs. “Yeah. But I wasn’t here for the gator.” His thumb jerks over his shoulder. “I was here for that.”
I turn. And only now do I notice the massive house looming just beyond the pool, its silhouette carved right into the cliffs. From a distance, in daylight, it must’ve looked like part of the mountain itself—stone and shadow swallowing it whole. No wonder I missed it until now.
I can’t see all of it, but what I can is enough. It’s enormous. Levels stacked unevenly on top of one another, windows like dark eyes still intact against all odds, the sliding door in front ofus gleaming faintly in the moonlight. The jagged line where rock meets concrete makes it look like the house clawed its way out of the cliff face.
“Is it yours?” I ask, my voice smaller than I want it to be.
“It isn’t anyone’s. Hasn’t been for a long time,” Max says. But there’s something in the way his eyes fix on it—sharp, hungry, possessive—that tells me it doesn’t really matter who it used to belong to.
It’s his now, in all the ways that matter.
“What do you do when you come here? When you’re off-grid?”
A dark chuckle rolls out of him as he strides across the terrace toward the sliding doors. Behind us, Chompy keeps chomping, the wet, relentless sound an ominous soundtrack to the night.
“Hasn’t Tass told you?” he tosses over his shoulder as he pushes the door open.
I follow him inside. It’s dark and I can’t see shit at first, only thin strips of moonlight leaking through the window.
But the air is what gets me. It doesn’t feel old, stale, rotten, like most ruins do in this world. No, there’s something fresh here, aired out, like someone’s been keeping the ghosts at bay. Like the place is alive.
“She said you slay your demons here.”
“Mostly true. How are you feeling? You okay?”
I almost trip over myself in the dark, but his hand is there in an instant, steadying me, guiding me up some stairs. His fingers find mine and the breath that leaves my lips at the contact is nothing short of stupid. It’s like a small electric shock, my head going fuzzy in a good way.
And it hits me.
We’re alone. In his house. With no one close for miles. No bar, no Watchers or Walkers, no people to barge in and ruin whatever this is. Just his godsawful zombiegator and us.
And we’re going to spend the night here—what’s left of it.
“Is it safe?” I ask, and my voice still sounds like someone else’s.
He chuckles, dark and confident. “It’s a cliffside villa. The front isn’t accessible anymore. The back? Well, anything that tries to come up the slope falls into Chompy’s pit before it reaches the sliding doors.”
“So there are none?”
“Not in this general area. Not since my three-day killing streak.”
I stop, tilt my head. He turns with me, but the dark hides half his face. “So that was what you were doing.”
“Yeah.” He shrugs, then his tone softens. “Mostly, I’m in the woods, culling Walkers. Coming back here whenever I need rest. It helps… it keeps the noise down. Makes things simpler. I’ll tell you more if you want to. But first…”
He lets my hand go, and I want to whine at the sudden loss of contact, at the warmth gone from my palm. Instead, he fishes a key from his pocket and slips it into the lock. The door opens with a low groan and a breath of warmer air.
He steps aside and the words fall out of him easily, like he’s been waiting to say them. “Welcome to my little hidey-hole.”
Chapter fourteen
Max
Thelookonhisface when he steps inside is worth every secret I’ve ever kept. His mouth parts, eyes wide, taking it all in. The big bed in the center of the massive bedroom, the soft couch slouched in the corner, cabinets lining the walls, the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the entire side of the room.
During the day, the view is spectacular. Cliffs dropping into the ocean, sunlight flooding through glass. Now the moon takes over, pouring silver into the room until everything glows like it’s underwater, shadows sharp against the walls.
“Is that atub? Does it have running water?”
