Page 47 of Sick(ness)

He gave a faint smile. “Maybe. But I’ve learned sleep doesn’t help much if your brain’s busy arguing with ghosts.”

She tilted her head. “Is that what we’re doing now? Arguing with ghosts?”

“Something like that,” he said.

They lapsed into silence again, the fire snapping quietly in the hearth. Addy was just starting to think she might risk lying down when it happened.

A sharp metallic clatter.

It came from the woods, faint but distinct. The unmistakable sound of metal striking metal.

Addy’s head snapped up. “What was that?”

Sawyer was already moving. The rifle came off the table in one smooth motion; the safety clicked off before the word even left her mouth. He crossed to the window and lifted one shutter just enough to peer outside.

“Stay down,” he whispered.

Her pulse hammered as she slid off the chair and crouched beside the wall. The air in the cabin suddenly became charged.

The sound came again, this time closer. Two faint clinks, then silence.

“That’s one of my lines,” Sawyer murmured. “North side.”

Addy swallowed. “Could it be an animal?”

“Could be,” he said, though the edge in his voice told her he didn’t believe it. “But animals don’t usually trip a wire twice.”

He moved toward the door, every step measured and quiet. “Stay here. Keep low.”

Addy reached out, catching his sleeve. “Sawyer, wait—”

He looked down at her hand, then back at her. His voice softened, just a fraction. “It’s okay. I’ll be careful.”

Before she could argue, he slipped out into the cold. The door closed behind him with barely a sound, leaving her alone with the soft flicker of firelight and the distant whisper of the wind.

She crouched there for what seemed like forever, listening. The minutes stretched, the silence pressing harder. Then, faintly, a single echo came from outside. Not a gunshot. Not a scream. Just the muted crunch of boots on frozen ground.

Addy’s fingers tightened around the handle of the knife she’d set beside her.

Ten

Shattered

The gunshot shattered the night.

Addy’s scream caught in her throat, raw and instinctive. It sounded close, too close. The echo bounced off the trees, rolling through the cabin walls like thunder. For one heart-stopping moment, she couldn’t move.

Then came the sound of boots pounding up the porch steps.

She bolted to the cupboard, flung the door open, and grabbed the small handgun Sawyer had stashed there. Her hands trembled as she fumbled to release the safety, her pulse roaring in her ears. The fire hissed behind her, throwing shadows that made the walls seem to move.

Another step creaked on the porch. It was whoever, and they were right outside.

She raised the gun, both hands shaking, the barrel fixed on the door. Her breath came in shallow bursts. She could almost see the handle tur—

“Addy! It’s me!” Sawyer’s voice tore through the fear. “It’s me, let me in!”

She exhaled hard, the relief dizzying. Rushing forward, she yanked the latch and pulled the door open. Sawyer slipped inside fast, closing it behind him and throwing the bolt. His breath came heavily, his face pale under the lamplight, eyes sharp and wild.