Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“Adam,” I whisper, the name tearing from me before I can stop it. “That’s Adam. That’s Lainey’s boyfriend.”
As if he hears me through the walls, through the boards, through the howling void that separates human from monster, Adam’s head turns toward the window. His eyes, that same unnatural blue as the others but somehow more present, more aware, lock onto mine through the gap in the boards.
And he smiles.
Not the mindless snarl of the hungry ones, but a deliberate, almost gentle curving of lips that reveals too many teeth, too sharp, gleaming like polished bone in the moonlight.
“Motherfucker,” Jensen comments. “Sure is him, alright. I reckon he seems different than the others. More like Nate, less like Hank.”
He’s right. He seems to be in more control, less feral. “If Adam bit Lainey when he changed, maybe her blood, the McAlister blood, helped?” It’s the only explanation I can come up with.
Adam lifts one hand in an almost formal gesture, and the other hungry ones respond immediately—spreading out around the cabin, taking positions at every window, every potential exit. They move with the coordinated precision of pack hunters, directed by Adam’s silent commands.
“That fucking seals the deal. He’s controlling them,” Jensen murmurs in disbelief.
Before I can respond, a sound draws my attention to the far side of the cabin—a rhythmic thumping, like something being repeatedly struck against the wall. It’s joined by another, then another, a percussive symphony of blows from all sides.
“They’re testing the defenses,” Jensen says, moving to check a different window. “Looking for weaknesses.”
A sharp crack splits the air—wood splintering as something impacts one of the boarded windows with tremendous force.
Then another crash, another board giving way under relentless assault.
“They’re breaking through!” I warn, already moving to reinforce the weakening barrier.
But it’s too late.
The board splinters entirely, and pale arms thrust through the opening—too many arms, multiplying in the confined space like some nightmarish hydra. Fingers like talons scrabble at the remaining defenses, tearing at wood with inhuman strength.
I fire my gun through the gap on pure instinct, the report deafening in the small cabin. One of the arms jerks back, dark fluid spraying from the wound, but it’s immediately replaced by others. More hands, more arms, reaching, grasping, tearing.
“Save your bullets!” Jensen is at my side, axe raised. He brings it down on the limbs, severing one, then another, the creatures screeching wildly. The arms fall to the floor in a thump, but they’re still writhing, as if they have a mind of their own.
Fuck me.
I take the hunting knife from my belt loop and start stabbing at the arms, hacking away at them, dark blood flying, doing enough damage for some of the arms to withdraw, getting out of the way just in time before Jensen chops some more in half.
But despite the massacre, they aren’t stopping. The hunger that drives them is stronger than pain, stronger than the instinct for self-preservation.
“We can’t stop them like this,” Jensen growls, breathing hard. I glance at him, at the blood sprayed all over him.
Just then a cold hand clasps over my arm, trying to pull me back against the boards.
“Duck!” he yells and I do so just as he brings the blade down on the forearm. The creature squeals, yet the forearm still remains gripping my arm, black blood running down it.
I yelp, twisting away from the window, yanking at the arm until it lets go and I throw it across the room.
“The loft!” Jensen grabs me, pulling me toward the ladder. “There’s a window up there—might be our only chance!”
I hesitate, looking back at Eli still secured to the cot. His eyes are open now, that unnatural blue fully manifested, watching us with predatory focus as he strains against his bonds.
“We can’t help him,” Jensen says, reading my hesitation. “He’s already gone.”
He’s right, I know he’s right, but leaving Eli feels like another failure in a string of them, another soul lost to these mountains and my inability to save anyone.
I do have some bullets left. But whatever peace they bring him would be temporary.
Just then there’s a snap and a collective snarl as the window finally gives way entirely, the hungry ones pouring through the opening like a pale, writhing flood.
“Aubrey, now!” Jensen’s voice cuts through my paralysis as the first of the hungry ones fully breaches the window, dropping to the floor with feral grace. It’s Red, or what used to be Red—his transformation complete, humanity erased by the hunger that now drives him, his brains hanging out where Jensen must have bludgeoned his skull in.
Behind him comes another familiar face—Cole, his features twisted in a permanent snarl, beady eyes tracking our movements, though most of his body is missing, gaping wounds of tissue, muscles and bone that have been eaten away. More follow, a nightmare parade of blue-eyed horrors flooding into the cabin.