Page 72 of Peak Cruelty

Rough.Both hands.

Legs lock.

Breath stutters.

I don’t ask.

I answer.

No words.No shift in pace.But something gives.Somewhere I don’t name.

She opens her mouth and I shut it with mine.

And just like that?—

We stop pretending this doesn’t mean something.

Even if we both know better.

Even if we’re not built for this.

Lightning flashes across the ceiling.I watch it fade.

Thunder sounds close enough to know it matters.

I don’t move.I’m still inside her.

She doesn’t speak.

Neither do I.

And that’s the part I’ll regret.

36

Marlowe

The storm breaks sometime before evening, though the clouds stay.Thick.Sulky, as though they lost a fight but still think they’re right.

By dinnertime, the house feels less like a hideout and more like a test of endurance.I’m pacing.Not out of nerves.Out of something worse.The kind of itch that happens when the walls are closing in.

Vance finds me cross-legged on the floor with an overturned puzzle half in my lap like it’s a pet.He says nothing.Just raises an eyebrow as though I’ve failed some unspoken psych eval.

“You ever think maybe we’re the normal ones?”I ask.

He tilts his head.“No.”

I suggest a walk.He doesn’t answer, but I watch his jaw do that reluctant tic thing, like his instincts are having a board meeting.Eventually, he agrees but only because arguing takes more energy than he has left.

“I won’t run,” I say, reaching for my shoes.“Mostly because I’m too tired.And also because I’m not stupid.But mostly tired.”

We take the back trail.The one that hugs the edge of the bluff.He walks behind me.I pretend not to notice.We don’t talk.Not at first.Just the sound of our shoes in the wet gravel.

The world looks washed out.Grass slick.Trees cocky.Air clean in a way that feels like taking your first deep breath in ages.

“I feel like a Labrador that’s been stuck inside too long,” I say eventually.

He glances at me.“You shed less.”

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