Forty-Nine
Skye
This was nothing like the cabin I spent my 18thbirthday in.
It was like a man’s bachelor pad mixed with county cottage vibes, and it screamed biker in every sense of the word. The place didn’t appear like a fortress from the outside, but it was when you walked in. The walls were insulated, made of stone or concrete. There were a few bedrooms, lots of beds, the windows were covered in metal bars and the doors were heavy and had keypads to every room. The pantry was filled to the brim with dry food and kitchen/bathroom supplies. The kitchen and lounge area was one giant room with shelving built into the walls. Surprisingly, they were barren. In fact, aside from a few biker memorabilia, high tech locks, barred windows and mountainous food supply, most of the place looked homey. The furniture appeared untouched, even the hardwood floors in the kitchen where a few barstools hugged the island had no scratch marks in the wood at all.
I followed Miles down a staircase and into what I assumed was the basement. He entered another code into the keypad, and it beeped open. I entered behind him and nearly lost my balance.
“You weren’t joking,” I whispered, surveying the room. The entire basement was swamped with weapons and crates filled with bullets, knives and…cash. There was so much cash. I walked down the neatly arranged aisles of this stuff, glancing periodically at Miles as he stood in the centre of the room, arms crossed, consumed by thoughts.
“Miles,” I said, standing still now. His blue gaze flickered to mine. “What’s the plan?”
“Survive,” he answered simply.
“Why are you looking so far away?”
“Because I haven’t been here in a while, and the last time I was…it was under very different circumstances.” When I kept staring at him, waiting for him to continue, he gruffly added, “I was with my brothers.”
My heart panged for him. I cleared my throat, knowing he wouldn’t want to talk about that too much, so I changed the subject. “So we’re a two person army now? You gonna teach me how to use the machete?” I kicked the crate in front of me. “Or this giant looking rifle?”
“That’s a shotgun.”
“I knew that.”
His lips twitched, but he wouldn’t let me have his smile. He looked away, sighing. “We’re going to move our mattresses down in here for the first week—”
“Week?”
He raised his brows at me. “Yeah, week.”
“How long do you think we’re going to be here?”
“A while.”
A while that stretched longer than a week, but how long exactly? I was too afraid to ask.
“I gotta fire up the generator,” he went on. “The solar panels have given us enough juice for the basics, but we’re going to need a bit more than that. I’m also going to hide the car sometime today. If I’m outta the house, I want you down here.”
“Are you going to give me the code to the rooms in case I need to get out?”
His lips spread into a cruel smile that made my heart jump. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
I frowned as a flare of anger ripped through me. “Miles—”
“In the meantime, let’s find something to eat—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am, and you’re going to fix me something to eat—”
“I’m not a slave, either,” I huffed.
“Yeah, well, tough fucking luck, princess. I saved your life, now’s your turn to pay me back.”
I swallowed a curse as he meandered out of the basement.
Asshole.