Chapter 6

Zoey

As we push through the thick underbrush and dense trees, our progress is slow. The jagged terrain is an obstacle course of roots and fallen branches. My hand trembles in his, his grip tightening with each uneven step. I'm scared, but I'm doing my best to keep up with his long strides without tripping over my feet in his too-large boots.

I steal a glance at our intertwined hands, comforted by how his larger fingers envelop mine. His worn socks are covered in dirt and dried leaves. A sigh breaks loose, thinking about the gesture. No one has ever done anything as selfless for me before.

"Are you okay?" Backdraft asks, breaking the silence between us. He glances back at me briefly with a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yes," I answer, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

We walk for miles until we finally emerge into a small clearing. The sun is setting, casting an orange glow over an old, weathered structure standing alone on a hill in the distance. It looks like it hasn't been inhabited in a while, with peeling white paint clinging stubbornly to the wooden boards. The patchwork of darker timber and mismatched shingles shows its history of hasty repairs. The grass surrounding it is overgrown and shadowed by tall trees stretching their limbs out overhead adding to the eerie feeling. Backdraft's steps falter when he sees it too, uncertainty flickering across his face.

"Is it safe?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't know," he replies, his brow furrowed. "But it's getting dark and we need shelter."

He leads us cautiously towards the cabin, our footsteps crunching on dried leaves and twigs. We pass a rusty, green pickup truck and a neatly stacked pile of firewood before we ascend the creaky wooden stairs to the front porch. Windows dot the small hunting cabin, some crooked and unevenly placed and others boarded up. They're mostly dark and obscured by dirt and cobwebs, but through the dull glass by the door, I can make out the thin line of curtains draped inside. The small detail brings me some comfort, knowing someone lives here or at least uses it as an escape from time to time. Luckily for us, it looks like no one is here now. Curling his hand around the doorknob, Backdraft jiggles the handle only to find it locked. Pulling something plastic from under his vest, he wedges it between the door and the frame, sliding it up and down until the lock pops open.

"Stay close to me," he orders in a deep low tone that sends shivers down my spine.

"I will," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.

Retrieving his gun, he slowly pushes on the rickety door. It creaks in protest. Backdraft takes one step inside, sweeping the room from left to right, and then takes another. I follow his lead, staying close behind him.

Our footsteps echo through the space. The air inside is damp and musty, making me crinkle my nose in disgust. I push through it, taking in my surroundings. The only light is what's left of the sun streaming through the open door and the dirty windows, casting an eerie glow along the floorboards. The structure is weakened from age and lack of upkeep, but it has the basic necessities from what I can tell. The main room is cluttered with old furniture and various items strewn about. There's a worn-out couch against one wall, a dusty table with chairs next to it, a wood-burning stove, and a kitchenette area with a sink and stove on the other side.

Backdraft turns his eyes searching mine for any signs of discomfort or fear. I give him a small nod, letting him know that I'm okay. After everything he's done for me already, I'd follow him anywhere.

He hands me his cell phone, "Take this."

The weak beam of light from the flashlight app casts long shadows on the worn wooden floor as we cautiously make our way through the cabin. I cling to his shirt as he leads us further into the cabin. Pausing at a door, he slowly opens it revealing a small bedroom. A single twin bed sits against one wall, surrounded by a chair and a small nightstand. To the side is a closet, its door slightly ajar revealing a few items still inside. Next to that door is another. Backdraft opens it into a tiny bathroom with peeling wallpaper and a cracked mirror.

When he's confident the place is empty, he returns his gun to his side and turns. "We'll stay here for the night."

Exhaustion starts to catch up with me, the adrenaline draining from my body and leaving me feeling tired and sore. I sink onto the edge of the bed, running my hand over my bare legs. Backdraft rummages through the room and comes to stand in front of me, powering on a battery-powered lantern and setting it on the floor at my feet. The soft glow illuminates the cuts and bruises on my skin.

"Let me see," Backdraft says, kneeling in front of me.

I nod, too exhausted to protest. He works quickly unlacing the strings of the boots. With a gentle tug, he slips them off my feet and places them at the foot of the bed. His fingers trace over every wound from my toes up my legs, sending shivers down my spine. Goosebumps erupt on my flesh from the heat of his touch. I flinch when his hand grazes over a large bruise blooming on my inner thigh.

He gazes at me, his eyes smoldering with a dark hunger. His hand roams freely over my exposed skin, setting every nerve ablaze with a raw need for him to explore deeper. The electric current that jolts through my entire being ignites a fire within me that I can't control.

Backdraft's hand pauses, dangerously close to my soaking-wet panties. I'm practically squirming with anticipation. My heart races as he stops just as his fingers skim the edge. Stealing a glance at him, I see he's covered in cuts and bruises of his own. Old burns and scars mark his tanned skin, but they don't scare me.

"You're hurt." I reach for him, returning the same gentleness he's shown me.

A look flashes in his eyes, telling me that's not the response he expected. There's more to him than what's on the surface. I can see it in his eyes. The danger, the secrets hidden behind them. He's been through some heavy-hitting stuff, but when it comes to me, he's been a gentle giant.

"It's just part of the job," he brushes off my concern, abruptly pulling away.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the fluttering in my stomach. As he moves around the room, I'm aware of every small detail. The subtle creaking of the floorboards beneath his weight, the warmth radiating from his body, and the faint sound of our breathing.

"What are you looking for?"

"A change of clothes."

I glance down at what's left of the sundress I'm wearing, realizing that it's dirty, bloodstained, and torn to shreds. Backdraft rummages through the dresser drawers and then the closet, finally finding what he's looking for.

"This is all I can find, but it's clean." He places the clothes on the bed next to me.

"Thank you." I place my hand on the pile, grazing his as he pulls it away.

"I need to secure the perimeter before it gets too dark." The resounding thud of the door shutting behind him jolts me out of the hypnotic state I'd fallen under and frustration crawls across my skin.