20. Frey

TWENTY

FREY

I wake up in Daze's arms, slumped over the back seat of a truck, to the thump of a tiny hand banging on the window near my head. Within seconds, my confusion disappears as the memories of last night come flooding back.

Mainly the understanding that Daze and I aren't alone on this adventure.

"Daddy, wake up!" Sammy's voice commands, muffled from beyond the window glass. "Auntie Lyra made breakfast! Wake up!"

"I'm awake," Daze grumbles, his mouth pressed against my shoulder. He sighs and reaches blindly for his jeans. "I'll distract the tiny human. You go shower and get dressed."

Before I can agree, he lurches upright and rolls down the window enough to shout, "Hey, buddy! Think you can race me back inside and hide somewhere where I can't find you? Bet you can't!"

Sammy's reply is an excitedly chirped, "Yes, I can!"

"Time bought," Daze says with a smile. I shiver as he turns the full force of that expression on me. He is so beautiful, sometimes it hurts to meet his gaze head-on. Like standing in the path of an oncoming truck moving at full speed. There is no chance to react before…

Boom. You're crushed against the onslaught.

I barely notice he's moved until I feel him help me back into my shirt. Then he yanks my sweatpants back into place. Once he's dressed, he leaves the truck and guides me up the path to the cabin and safely into the narrow bathroom before he sets off to find Sam.

I wash up blindly and then hunt for my bag of borrowed clothing. After getting dressed in a clean shirt and jeans, I find myself wandering in the main room, with Daze and Sammy nowhere in sight. Confused, I head outside and start down the porch steps.

When I hear a voice call out, I turn around in time to catch a small cherub-like figure running to greet me with outstretched arms.

"Ms. Lady!"

"Sammy?"

I stoop to catch him mid-hug, and I squeeze him tight.

"I'm so glad you're okay, honey," I tell him, smoothing back his blond curls. "Do you know where your daddy is?"

"Yeah!" He tugs me along behind the cabin, where a massive Daze is attempting to "hide" behind a narrow tree. As Sammy and I approach, he makes a show of lunging toward us, growling playfully.

Giggling, Sammy tries to outrun him, and they play a haphazard game of tag throughout the narrow clearing. Finally, Daze throws up his hands in surrender.

"I give up! Let's go eat, little man," he declares before lurching to scoop Sammy into his arms. Sammy's elated giggles form a trail all the way to the cabin.

I follow behind them, unable to shake the feeling that something is off. Daze has been distracted ever since we left the city, not that I can blame him. If I were in his position, I'd pester me until I got an answer.

I can tell he's dying to ask what happened with Colton and Catherine. I should tell him, but there is this selfish part of me that doesn't want his opinion of me colored by that. Will he judge me for what I had to do to survive? Or will he hate me for letting Catherine sacrifice herself so easily without putting up a fight?

The questions haunt me as I enter the cabin and find Lyra in the kitchen, slaving over the stove. Daze leans against the wall, already eating a pancake with his bare hands, while Sammy watches him from a round table, clapping in delight.

"Oink oink, that's the sound a piggy makes!" Sammy cackles gleefully as Daze proceeds to make those very sounds on command. "Yay!"

"Don't forget to eat your own food, little piggy," Lyra scolds, crouching to cut his pancake into pieces. Looking up, she spots me and nods toward the counter. "I made you a plate. You're probably starving."

"Thank you."

Daze staggers to right himself, still smiling in a way that makes my heart flutter. He's so beautiful like this, consumed only with the task of entertaining his son.

"Here." He moves to pull out a chair for me, and I grab a full plate and sit across from Sammy, who has syrup dripping down his chin.

"Daddy said we can go play in the water!" Sammy sings. "Wanna come?"

"I said we can walk by the water," Daze corrects, his voice gently stern. "It's not safe to go in."

"We can walk," Sammy insists, batting his golden eyelashes. "Wanna come?"

"Of course." I muster up a smile in return. "If you'll have me."

"Yay!" Sammy starts to push back from the table, but Lyra calls from the other side of the kitchen.

"You need to eat first, young man. Then you can go out and play."

"Okay!" Sammy painstakingly eats the rest of his food while Daze and I trade silent glances from over the table.

I don't know how to describe the way he looks at me. His gray eyes sparkle, open and warm—but the thoughtful tilt to his mouth conveys a vulnerability that makes my heart ache. What happened between us last night has only made the unspoken tension between us more awkward. I feel like I'm going to explode by the time Sammy finishes up and Daze takes a quick shower. When we finally head outside, the sun is shining high in the sky and the chaos in the city seems to be a world away.

Sammy takes off, bounding over the paths that lead to the lakefront. It's secluded out here, which is surprising for such a beautiful location. I assume the weather has something to do with it. It's chilly, and Daze has to scold Sammy more than once to keep him from touching the water.

To his credit, the boy responds to every warning with a firm nod and a cherub grin. Cheeky. I can tell already that he'll grow up with more than his fair share of Daze's penchant for bending the rules. For good or bad? That remains to be seen.

Eventually, the three of us sit on a rocky outcrop and watch the waves lap at the shore. I'm not sure exactly when it happens, but when I look over at Sammy, he's fast asleep with his head on Daze's shoulder.

I don't know why now feels as good a time as any to broach the topic, but with a heavy breath, I confess, "Nothing happened between me and Colton. I didn't let him touch me." Raw anger creeps into my voice, and a deep understanding crosses over Daze's features.

He nods once. "Good. Are you ready to tell me what else happened out there?"

My voice breaks as I tell him everything, checking periodically to make sure Sammy doesn't wake up in the middle of the horrible retelling. I tell him about my father's threats and Silas' visit. Then of Colton. As my voice breaks, Daze takes my hand in a firm fist, silently urging me to continue. When I reach the part about the girl, however, he hisses, visibly disgusted.

"Those sick sons of bitches…"

"No, I should have done something," I insist. "I should have done more. Fought back. Anything but run away like a scared little girl."

Yet again.

Self-pity almost swallows me whole—until I look up and catch the fire in those beautiful gray eyes that hold my own without flinching.

"The hell you could," he snaps, his voice rough. Suddenly, he grips my hand tighter while stroking the back of it in a way that makes my heart twist into knots. He can be so gentle when he wants to be, despite the harsh callouses that mar nearly every inch of his palms. He softens his grip without seeming to think about it, as if he's painfully aware of his effect on people. It's a marked sign of humanity that Silas, Colton, my father, and anyone like them doesn't possess. "You fought back, but you're one damn person. I'm just thankful as hell that you made it out in one piece."

"But my father is still out there," I say. "Who knows what he's doing. God, those poor girls…"

"That's not all he's up to," Daze says darkly.

I look at him questioningly, but he hesitates to respond. After checking one more time to make sure Sammy's asleep, he cradles his son's head with so much tenderness it hurts to witness.

"Your father's plans don't end with his fucked-up little cult," he says. "There's more to it."

"Like what?"

"He wants to blow up the entire city."

I blink, unsure of how to interpret that. Am I surprised? Maybe. The word choice is rather blunt, but somehow, I doubt that Daze is exaggerating. I can sense the tension he's tried so hard to hide all along. This is the real reason he's been on edge since we left Westpoint.

"How?" I stammer. "And when?"

"We're not sure of the finer details," he admits with a heavy sigh. "But the intel is credible. It's going to happen soon. Probably during his little victory speech at city hall."

"We have to stop him," I say, already wracking my brain as to the many potential ways my father could utilize his newfound power to sow chaos—not to mention the untold damage he could do with someone like Silas as his attack dog.

I lurch to my feet, and head toward the truck we arrived here in.

"We need to go. Now?—"

"Wait." I look back to see Daze cradling a dozing Sammy in his arms. With a pleading expression, he jerks his chin to the cabin. "Just give me a minute."

Reminded of reality, I deflate of some of the urgent tension driving me to move now. Act now. Instead, I swallow hard and follow Daze into the cabin. We pass his sister and the hulking man he referred to as Kane seated at the dinner table. Once inside the farthest bedroom, Daze gingerly tucks Sammy into bed. He lingers, smoothing his fingers along his son's mop of blond hair. My heart aches watching him. It's hard to remember that these hands—capable of violence—can be so gentle as well.

I turn around, feeling like a voyeur watching what should be a private moment. Daze is on my heels before I can even blink. Warm, he uses his body to encase me from behind, cupping my waist in the palm of each hand. Then he steers me outside and down the porch steps.

"Hold on," he murmurs into the nape of my neck as we stand still on the earthen path leading to the road. "Nothing good can be accomplished by rushing in there, guns blazing."

But that's the exact M.O. he's stuck to since the moment I met him.

Unless all the head trauma he's taken in the past few days has caused lasting damage, I can't imagine why he'd call for tact now.

Unless…

He doesn't want me with him when he finally does return to the city.

Even worse—he thinks I can't stomach one last showdown with my own father.