Page 43 of Dark Knight

I didn't bother with the island with the watches because I didn't think there would be anything useful there. But as I started exploring some of the other drawers, I found a small switchblade tucked away. It was well hidden, as though it hadn't seen the light of day in a long time. Maybe Dylan had lost it or forgot he had it, or maybe it was a sentimental piece and not meant to be used. I wasn't sure, but it was enough for me to start feeling a little safer.

When I opened one of the drawers, I realized that it was shallower than it should have been based on the size of it from the outside. If he had filled it with more clothing, the false bottom wouldn't have been so obvious. As it was, I could tell that there were a good couple of inches that I couldn't see.

I pulled everything out of the drawer, keeping it in the exact same order that it was in so I could put it back properly. A couple of t-shirts, some socks, and a swimsuit came out of the drawer.

It was a mish mash of things unlike the strict organization that made up the rest of the walk-in closet, which only served to make me more suspicious about the drawer. Once it was empty, I ran my fingers along the edge of the bottom until I found a small divot on one side that I used to pry the bottom up. I hooked my finger into it and lifted, opening the bottom and revealing a gun.

At first, a wave of fear went through me. I'd never known anybody who owned a gun before, and I suddenly got the feeling that this wasn't the only one that Dylan owned.

I had zero experience handling a weapon like this, or any weapon for that matter, but a gun was something that most people in their right mind would find scary. Even if I didn't know how to use it properly, I figured it could at least use it to scare my stalker. Hopefully, I could bluff my way out of the room if the attacker tried to come in again.

I felt somewhat safer with the gun and switchblade in hand, so I went back to bed. If the attacker came back and tried to take me, if he succeeded in getting into the room, I had two weapons that I could use.

I set the gun on the nightstand and put the knife under my pillow, pointing away from me. After staring at the dark metal of the weapon for a moment, I laid back down and tried to sleep, but it was no good. My mind was racing.

Dylan hadn't believed that there was somebody in his house who was trying to get to me, and though I still didn't have concrete proof, I now knew that I was right. Somebody had tried to get into his room while I was in here, which could only mean that they were coming after me or trying to steal from Dylan. Neither thing was something I thought he would be happy about.

I tossed and turned trying to find sleep once more, but it never came to me. The shape of the knife under the pillow, seeming to have a princess and the pea effect, was all I could think about. It occupied my mind to the point that I thought I could make out the ridges of the metal through the pillow.

When the door rattled again a little while later and I heard soft voices coming from the other side, terror spiked through my blood.

I pushed up in bed and grabbed the gun from the side table, aiming at the door with both hands holding it. The urge to pull the trigger when the door opened was almost overwhelming.

If it hadn't been for the familiar honey-colored hair, I probably would have fired, or at least tried to. It had to be Hud, right? Until I saw his face, though, I wasn't putting the gun down. There wasn't a chance in hell of that.

I would fight before I went anywhere with my stalker. The last thing I wanted was a taste of freedom only to have it snatched away once more. I wasn't sure I'd be able to handle it if that happened.

22

Hudson

The last thing I expected to find when Dylan sent me upstairs to check on Evie was her sitting up in his bed, pointing a gun at me.

"Don't come any closer!" Her voice shook with panic.

"Evie, it's Hud. Look at me, sweetheart, you know me." The tremble in her voice made my heart thud heavily in my chest, something that I was definitely not used to. "Can you put the gun down?"

"Sorry," she blurted before lowering the gun and practically flinging it from her hands as though it was a snake.

With that threat eliminated, I walked further into the room, leaving the door open so the light from the hallway could spill inside. "Do you want to tell me where you found that gun?"

She shook her head.

"I wasn't really asking, sweetheart. Tell me where you found the gun." I picked it up and tucked it in the back of my pants. My usual holster wasn't there, but it was enough to keep it somewhere out of sight and safe for now.

"In Dylan's closet."

"So you rifled through his things until you found a weapon?" I clarified. Part of me wondered if she would have felt the need to do that if we’d just told her that we believed her from the beginning. Maybe if she hadn’t felt so isolated she wouldn’t have needed to search for weapons. For some reason that thought bothered me more than it normally would.

She nodded her head slowly, like a kid getting in trouble and not wanting to admit what they did was wrong. It made me wonder what her childhood had been like. No one should show this much fear for just trying to defend themselves.

"Why did you do that?" I wasn't angry at her for doing what she felt was necessary to feel safe. I was angry at the fact that she didn't feel safe in Dylan's room.

It wasn't like anybody could get inside. After all, it had a keyed entry. Any person entering had to use a key card, or they had to enter the code on the number pad outside. The room served as a last-resort safe area, almost like a panic room, except without the food stores and steel walls. All of the windows were bulletproof, though.

"Somebody was trying to get in," she said a little hesitantly.

"Somebody was trying to come into Dylan's room?" I could feel the frown that had formed on my face. Between her reluctance to tell me what had happened and the way her gaze shuttered at my question I knew she was taking my expression the wrong way.

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