Iyisha's muscles ached from the long ride and the vibrations of the ATV still in her bones.
They had found a small farmhouse before nightfall after following a quiet country road. Malcolm had stopped far from it, scanning the outline against the fading light.
"Stay here," he whispered.
It looked abandoned, but so had the place where they'd been captured before. Iyisha pulled out her gun, fingers trembling at the memories that flooded her. She watched Malcolm slip into the shadows, scouting the area before going inside. She held her breath, counting the seconds, each one making her more nervous.
Relief rushed through her when he came back out, waving her forward. She started the ATV and drove it toward the farmhouse, too slow for her liking but safe enough.
They worked together to make the place secure—tripwires strung low with cans, leaves piled by the paths, a chair with bottles balanced against the door. It wasn't much, but it would give warning. Iyisha followed his lead, nerves buzzing, surprised at how practiced he was.
"This really works?" she whispered.
"It'll give us warning," Malcolm said. "Warning's enough."
She giggled, a sound that escaped before she could stop it. "Feels like the pranks me and my sister used to pull on our parents."
His expression softened. "Yeah," he said quietly, as if a memory tugged at him. Then he stood. "Come on, let's go up."
They headed to the second floor, choosing a room with a vantage point over the yard. The place was dark, the weak lantern glow barely touching the corners, and the temperature was already dropping with the night.
He sat beside her on a rough wooden chair, opening a can with a dented tin opener. She wondered how long he'd been on the road to be this fast and precise. She'd tried cooking once, but he'd told her she wasted too much, and after that he took over dinners.
"Can't we heat it?" she asked. He shook his head.
"Light from an open fire's too much."
She glanced at the crank lantern they'd hauled up from the basement, its weak flicker set to the lowest glow. Thank God for it, she thought, because without it they would be swallowed by total darkness again.
"Eat," he said firmly, sitting down beside her.
She sat there watching him eat, the beans cooling even more in her hands until his eyes lifted and lingered on her. The look he gave made her hurriedly take a bite, and only then did he return to his meal.
"How long you been on the road?" she asked.
"Two years. Was in Fort Carson when the news hit. Got sent to Nebraska after, to make sure the nuclear plants wouldn't be abandoned."
Iyisha frowned. "What?"
"Made sure no one left and no one entered," he said, eyes flat before going back to his food.
As she watched him, Iyisha couldn't help but think how the military and government always seemed to have plans tucked away for every kind of disaster, even this one.
"You got family?"
She remembered the look on his face the last time she asked. Maybe he had someone once too.
He gave a gruff shake of his head. "Eat." Then he walked to the window.
She pouted, but he stayed there, keeping watch. She cleaned up, using as little water as he'd taught her. The house had a store of rainwater, enough for them to freshen up even in the cold weather.
"You wanna freshen up?" she asked, stepping closer, noticing his stiff body at the window. His eyes were sharp, making her heart thud.
"What's wrong?" she whispered.
"Don't feel safe here," he muttered, shifting the rifle in his hands.
Her heart thundered. "Is someone outside?"
"I saw someone watching us from the treeline back in Corrolton."
She blinked, trying to remember, but she hadn't felt anything then. "Are we safe here?"
"Traveling at night's a bad idea. The ATV's too loud and with us being the only light around, we'd stand out like a target." He gave her a quick glance. "Go on, get some rest. I'll keep watch."
"Why don't you rest first? I'll wake you later. If someone's gonna come, they'll wait for deeper in the night."
He shook his head. "Can't rest. You need to."
She wanted to argue, but the stiffness in his body made her feel the danger he sensed. Iyisha went to the cot, curling onto it. A part of her wanted to ask for a kiss, maybe even the comfort of his arms, but his tone left no room for intimacy, only danger.
After a while she pushed herself up on one elbow, watching his rigid outline. "You always this serious?"
"Why?"
"Feels like you've been holding your breath since we left Grandma Jo's."
His jaw tightened, as if already thinking of the danger stacked ahead of them.
"Maybe we'll be safer once we get into Quincy," she whispered, though even as she said it the hope felt thin
"Quincy's got a reputation. Red-light district. People went there to disappear, even before this. Now? If the freezing doesn't get you, people will. Don't look too long at what's out there. And don't let anyone look too long at you." He warned.
The words chilled her worse than the air creeping through the cracks. He made Quincy sound like a trap waiting to snap shut.
"At Grandma Jo's farm…" Her voice faltered. "When they tied me up… the way they looked at me… it felt like that. Like I wasn't a person."
He turned, really looking at her, face tight, shadows cutting across his features. "Don't think about that place."
"But I can't not," she whispered. "I keep hearing what they said. Seeing what they wanted."
Even now, her skin prickled as though Matt's touch had left something crawling beneath it she couldn't wash off.
"I thought it was the end." Her voice dropped lower. "The feel of Matt's hand on my skin still makes me nauseous."
He nodded, stiff, like he didn't know what else to do. His hand tightened on the rifle, eyes flicking back to the window instead of meeting hers.
She stood and went to him, touching his arm and resting her head briefly against his back. He stiffened.
"Sleep."
But she lingered.
"What he did back at the farmhouse…" her voice cracked.
Malcolm's jaw tightened. "Iyisha—"
She shook her head. "I can't stop thinking about it."
"Then sleep," he answered gruffly.
She almost laughed. He sounded like he'd rather be anywhere else than standing here with her. That coldness or awkwardness strangely made her feel a little better.
"Maybe a kiss will make me feel better," she teased, voice soft.
Malcolm looked at her, eyes narrowing like he was weighing if she was serious.
She closed her eyes, half as a joke, half in hope, and waited.
For a moment, nothing. She thought he'd brush her off again. Then—
His mouth crashed onto hers. Rough, desperate, not at all like the steady, guarded man who'd been watching the windows all night. It was heat and hunger pressed into a single heartbeat, like his iron control had slipped and he couldn't stop himself.
Her gasp melted into him, and for one dizzy second she felt his restraint unravel—his hand bracing the back of her neck, his tongue sliding against hers as if he meant to devour her.
And then it was gone.
He ripped himself back, chest rising hard, his jaw tight as if he'd just slammed a door shut inside himself. His eyes burned, but his voice was sharp, flat:
"Go to sleep."
She stood dazed, struck by how good he looked in that dim light.
She wanted more, but the way he looked at her, like he wanted more than just a kiss, made her knees go weak, left her breathless, and scared her all at once.
She lay back on the cot, heart hammering, her lips still tingling.
She wanted more.
She feared more.
She didn't know which one scared her worse.