Page 4 of Silver Fox Mountain Daddies

Inside, the clerk barely looks up when I ask for a room. I pay in cash, scribbling a fake name on the register with a shaking hand.

When the door to the dingy room closes behind me, I am truly alone for the first time in my life.

And I am both terrified and triumphant.

Chapter 2

Ani

The room smells like mildew and bleach. The carpet under my shoes is damp, though I don’t know where the water is coming from. The bed is lumpy. The curtains don’t close properly, and the bathroom light flickers when I turn it on.

It is unsanitary.

Still, it’s freedom.

And freedom, even when it smells like…this, is better than the life I left behind.

I bolt the door, check the window lock twice, drop my bag onto a rickety chair, and dig out a sweater. The room is freezing, and the thermostat doesn’t seem to work.

The mattress sags when I sit, groaning beneath me. I run a hand across the geometric print comforter and immediately regret it. The fabric is rough and stained.

This is not what I would have chosen if choice were a luxury I could afford. But I will happily take this horrible place over a life with Davit. A thousand times over.

I pull the extra blanket from the foot of the bed, shaking it out carefully before wrapping it around my shoulders. It smells mildewy, but I gather it tighter anyway.

I can hear the television playing in the room next door and what sounds like a couple arguing beyond that.

I check my phone, but there’s no service here.

So, I crawl into bed fully dressed, sweater sleeves pulled over my hands, legs curled in tight. I close my eyes and try to pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere safe.

I must fall asleep eventually because the next time I open my eyes, the room is darker than before and filled with something heavy.

It takes a moment for my mind to catch up, still sluggish with exhaustion. I inhale reflexively and gag. The air tastes metallic, coated in something bitter that sticks to the back of my throat.

Smoke.

The realization slices through the fog in my head.

I scramble upright, heart hammering against my ribs. The glow outside the window is an unnatural orange that pulses and flickers.

The motel is burning.

Panic claws at the edges of my mind, but I force myself to move. I stumble toward the door, and grab the handle but it’s so hot I immediately pull my hand away. The cheap wood of the door is already starting to warp, and a low, crackling sound grows louder with every passing second.

This is my only way out but I know what lies behind the door—a raging fire. The window in the bathroom is too small to fit through.

I bang my fist against the wood, coughing as smoke thickens around me.

"Help," I rasp, though my voice barely carries over the roar of the burning building. "Please?—"

The walls start closing in, the smoke stealing what little air is left. My eyes water uncontrollably. My lungs burn.

I am going to die here.

I finally found the courage to run and live life on my terms and I am going to die the first night, burned to death in a crappy motel.

The thought lodges in my chest, freezing me in place.

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