Page 22 of Corpse Roads

“If you need anything, ask one of the men stationed outside. Becket and Ethan are both good agents. They’ll protect you.”

He stares at me from across the room, looking like he wants to say more. I’m hit by a wave of exhaustion that pulls at my already heavy eyelids. It’s been an intense day.

“Rest, Harlow. We’ll be back soon.”

With a final, unhappy nod, Enzo sweeps from the room. The moment the door shuts, my throat aches with the force of emotion ramming into me. I feel like I’ve been deserted on an island.

The niggling voice of fear sneaks back in as the shadows in the room seem to grow without Enzo here to ward them off. He was the first warmth and real human contact I’ve experienced for a long time.

I survived the basement alone, but in this unknown place, I feel more afraid than ever before. All I want is for Enzo to come back and stand guard, his intimidating size scaring everyone else off.

Lord, I truly must be broken.

Pastor Michaels succeeded.

CHAPTER 5

ENZO

EVEN IN THE DARK - JXDN

My feet smack against the pavement in a rhythmic beat. I focus on the road ahead and crank my classic rock music up even louder. I like it high enough to hurt my eardrums when I’m feeling like this.

I’ve circled the suburbs of rural London twice, in all its luxurious, middle-class charm. The miles passed by quickly as I lost myself in the simple act of exercise.

It takes a lot to exhaust me. Years of suffering from insomnia have given me a superhuman ability to run on absolutely nothing. After tossing and turning in bed for an hour, I called it quits and pulled my running gear on.

I can’t stop thinking about Harlow. Her wide, frightened blue eyes, bird-like features and gently curling brown hair have filled my mind since I left the hospital last night.

Finishing my tenth mile, I circle back home. Countless red-brick townhouses, fashionable apartments and closed cocktail bars frequented by the filthy rich pass me by.

After twelve years of running Sabre Security, we could afford to buy property somewhere more upmarket. This was supposed to be our family home when we bought it several years back.

In reality, the house is as empty as our lives. The family we once were shattered a long time ago. Hunter comes home just to pass out. Theo’s room is untouched. I can’t catch a single night’s sleep without being haunted by the past.

The brick wall that encloses the property comes into view, topped with lacquered black spikes and concealed CCTV cameras. We live amongst normal society, but our home is a fortress of solitude.

With a generous garden and tall birch trees for privacy, you can just spot the painted pillars marking the entrance to our Victorian-style mansion. Red bricks are broken by generous windows, fitted with specially made bulletproof glass. We went all out.

I let myself through the electric gate, cursing the complicated security system that Theo had one of his techies install. Leaning in for a retinal scan when it’s pitch-black is a feat, but it would take an army to break in.

Inside the house, I toe off my trainers and rest against the wall. My body is exhausted, but my mind still won’t quiet. There’s a thump of feet on wooden floors as Lucky comes padding over.

She licks my legs in greeting, and I bend down to scratch behind her ears. Her pearly-blonde fur practically gleams in the moonlight leaking through the window panes.

She’s a golden Labrador retriever, and weighs a hell of a lot when she insists on climbing into bed for a cuddle. I’m the only one that lets her do it. We got her not long after we moved in.

“Good girl,” I murmur.

We head into the kitchen together. The under-counter lights are on, revealing Hunter sitting with his back to me at the kitchen island. He’s shirtless, showing years of scars and the tattoos that cover everywhere from his throat down.

As usual, he’s nursing a cup of tea, his dark-green sweatpants hanging low on his hips. I approach slowly, noting his hearing aid on the marble countertop. I’d like to avoid a broken nose if I startle him.

He’s been known to take it out, preferring the silence his permanently damaged eardrums provide while deep in thought. Hunter’s completely deaf in his right ear.

An explosion caused his hearing to decline over time. Only his left ear retains some functioning, so he relies on the hearing aid to live a somewhat normal life. It affects him a lot more than he lets on.

Offering him a wave, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, draining it in three quick gulps. Hunter reattaches his hearing aid, switching it on so we can talk.

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