Page 8 of Silver Fox Mountain Daddies

I rub at the back of my neck, the old ache settling in deep. "We know nothing about this girl."

"She’s not a threat," Finn says. "You know that as well as I do."

I don’t answer right away. I think about the way she jumped out of her skin when the heater kicked on. The way she never once looked any of us in the eye for more than a second.

"Fine," I say finally. "A few days. She helps out, she stays quiet. And she doesn’t bring any danger to our door. You make sure of that, Finn.”

Finn lets out a breath, shoulders easing. Jonah just nods once in agreement.

"But the second anything feels off," I add, locking eyes with both of them, "she’s gone. No questions asked."

"Agreed," Jonah says.

Finn hesitates a fraction of a second longer than I’d like. But he nods, too. "Agreed."

Chapter 4

Ani

Idon’t sleep much.

Considering what I woke up to the last time I fell asleep, this comes as no surprise. Instead, I lie still, eyes fixed on the ceiling, counting each slow breath as I try not to move too much in the unfamiliar bed.

At least the sheets and the blanket are soft and clean. The mattress is comfortable too. I just wish I could fall asleep.

It’s been a night of firsts, that’s for sure. My first night truly alone. My first night of real freedom. My first night nearly dying in a fire at a shitty roadside motel.

I keep waiting for the panic to pass. But it doesn’t. It becomes a little quieter, but it’s still there. I wonder if it will ever go away or if I’ll be stuck looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.

By the time the sky starts to soften with morning light, my legs feel too tense to stay still a second longer. I sit up slowly, listening for movement down the hall. Nothing.

I step out of bed and pull the blanket around my shoulders before opening the door. The hallway is empty.

The smell of smoke from last night’s fire still lingers in my hair. I probably should have showered before bed, but I hadn’t really been thinking straight.

I cross the living room and slip outside, careful not to let the screen door slam behind me.

The porch boards are cool under my feet. The sky is soft, just beginning to glow at the edges. Pale light spills over the trees, stretching down across the slope in slow, golden bands. There’s a thin mist hanging over the field below

It’s beautiful here.

The mountain air is cold and clean. It smells of pine, damp earth, and firewood. There’s no traffic. No loud noises.

Just quiet.

For the first time in a long while, I feel something close to peace. The world isn’t asking anything of me right now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that before.

But the peaceful feeling doesn’t last long.

I think of my mother. She’s always been an early riser. I imagine she’ll be up even earlier today, making sure every detail is perfect. Rearranging perfectly arranged flowers. Delegating tasks like it’s her full-time job. She’s always been good at managing the performance.

But there’s one problem she won’t be able to fix.

There’s no wedding without a bride.

They’ll find out soon. If they haven’t already.

And when they do, they’ll come looking.

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