Page 61 of Revenge Saints
A knock on the door yanks me out of my thoughts.
“Yes?” I call out, keeping my voice grounded.
Knox steps in, eyes flicking around like he’s assessing the room for threats.
“We’re going to hunt,” he says, with gruffness. “We need real food. Max will stay behind.”
I nod. “Okay. Do you need me to do anything?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
He just stares too long. Like he’s searching for something in myface, something to convince him I won’t go behind his back.
He won’t find it.
He shouldn’t trust me.
“Maybe cut some apples,” he finally mutters.
His tone is cold, clipped, like he’s holding back something.
I pretend not to notice.
“Sure,” I say, hopping out of bed and heading for the kitchen.
I brush past him, heading straight for the little kitchen. Max and Knox exchange a look behind me, silent communication I’ve seen a hundred times by now. Then finally, Knox leaves with Ryker.
I wait until the door clicks shut before I move.
Opening drawer after drawer, I search until I find a knife. The wood is splintered; everything covered in a thin layer of dust. This house hasn’t been touched in years. The air is stale, heavy with mildew and time, with the windows all boarded up, it’s always dark in here. Dim shadows, stale air. Eerie.
I hate it.
“Need any help, Aspen?” Max asks kindly.
I shake my head quickly. “I’m good.”
He hesitates, then nods. “I’ll get more water from the well.”
The moment he steps outside, and the door swings closed behind him, I start moving.
My eyes scan the kitchen again, not looking for ingredients, but opportunity. I don’t want to hurt Max, but if I try to run, he’ll catch me.
I move fast to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
The cabinet is old, the mirror spotted and cracked. Inside arerandom pills and dusty little bottles, labels half-faded or missing. I don’t know what most of them are, and I’m not going to risk accidentally killing him.
I’m about to give up when a name catches my eye.
Zolpidem.
My breath hitches.
My grandmother used to take this to sleep, and she always said if she doubled the dose, it would knock her out cold.
I don’t know if it’ll still work after all these years; these pills are probably expired, the packaging yellowed, but maybe… maybe.
I rush back to the kitchen, heart pounding.
