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Everything is as it should be.
No signs that anything is amiss…
Except for the sound of Callista’s soft sobs as she comes to terms with where she’s found herself. That young woman may have driven up here herself, but no one could consider it done willingly.
She never would have set foot on this mountain if her father hadn’t made a very bad choice. In this instance, she’s quite literally the sacrificial lamb offered to The Beast to appease his hunger.
If only it were so easily satiated…
Old memories threaten to resurface.
Tied to that same pain and knowledge that you’re cornered with no good options.
Bound to the blood on my hands.
Inextricably tangled with every breath and step I take on Barker Mountain.
Keeping those thoughts buried is a much easier prospect when I’m alone. When there isn’t a reminder of the humanity at the base of this peak weeping in my own damn bedroom.
Fuck.
I reach out and flip off the audio feed from the room before I do something utterly stupid, like start to feel bad for the girl.
That’s the kind of weakness I can’t allow myself.
My phone dings with an incoming message, and I tense, my eyes darting to Callista on the monitor rather than the small screen resting on the desk. She hasn’t moved from her spot against the door, allowing herself a few moments of utter despair before she’ll undoubtedly rise and start examining her surroundings.
If I had any choice, I’d ignore the message I just received. Pretend it didn’t come through. Delete it without ever reading it. It might make all this easier if I did and just sent her away.
But nothing has been easy for me for decades, and I have to read it in order to know what it says in response to my earlier text—the one I sent the moment I left Callista in that room.
I grab the offending device I’d rather toss into the lake than have in my home and read the screen.
Two words.
She stays.
“Fucking Hell…”
Any thought of getting her out of here, off my mountain, and back where she belongs disappears instantly, replaced with the dread of knowing Callista isn’t going anywhere—at least for the time being.
My body vibrates with barely contained rage, the thing that earned me my reputation in the first place, and if I don’t find an outlet for it—fast—I’ll end up replacing all the screens in the surveillance room.
Again.
I shove out from my chair, grab my axe from where it rests beside the desk, and storm from the office. The quiet house envelops me as I stalk toward the back door, but so does her sweet honey scent.
It already permeates the entire place.
Every breath I’ve taken since I pulled her into my arms off the forest floor has been filled with it, and the longer she’s here, the more it will invade everything until it’s impossible to rid myself of it once she’s finally gone.
I tug open the door, seeking an escape, a reprieve. Bright morning sunshine hits my bare chest and face. The warmth should improve my mood, but all it does is remind me of the golden color of Callista’s hair and how it looked spread out across my dark pillowcase.
Fuck.
Hard, punishing work.
That’s what I need right now.
