It was with a sense of dread that Nick woke. His muscles protested every movement, and he stretched to alleviate an angry spine. There was nothing he could do about the gaping hole in his heart. He was cold, uncomfortable, grumpy and stiff. He groaned as he pulled himself upright from the back seat of one of the trucks. The meagre blanket he’d pilfered from one of the few remaining open boxes was insufficient in keeping the waning winter chill at bay. His nose dripped, and his fingers creaked when he rubbed them together. He did not think of Kira and Euan sharing their bed, the warmth that their bodies would provide, the comfort of that fucking king-sized mattress. Nope, he didn’t think of that or them at all.
He scrubbed his face with his hands and his stubble rasped against his palm. His tongue slid against furry teeth. His mouth tasted like ass, and not in the good way.
His eyes slid towards the windscreen where the woodland stretched out before him. He frowned, his lips tightened, he fingered his hair out of his eyes. The light was orange …
Dawn had broken, the morning sun ate away at the grey-tinged sky, it blossomed into vibrant shades. But the colours were wrong.
The truck’s door squealed as he opened it and the scent of smoke immediately assaulted his nose. His frown deepened. It wasn’t completely unusual or out of the ordinary. Mickey-O’s men that had been assigned to transport them and their supplies to the eco-hotel slept in tents and used fires to cook their meals of portioned rations and nearby game … but the scent was different, stronger, keener.
Thicker.
He emerged from the cab and pushed his feet directly into his boots. Laces were tied with haste and then he ran backwards along the grass, his eyes to the sky.
A livid red glow had formed above the treetops. It wasn’t from the new dawn.
His feet took him to the porch. The men had begun to exit their tents. Green, grey, blue and yellow, the waterproof fabric whistled as zippers were unfastened and faces appeared through vacant holes. Noses were in the air. Eyes cleared of sleep. Activity and movement quickly overtook the silence.
Nick’s hand was on the door handle when he spied Knight marching towards him across the grass he’d just cleared.
He paused. Gazes locked, held. Knight nodded as he broke the connection to glance towards the sky, the men, then finally the forest. ‘We’re trapped here. If they’ve lit the fire close enough, we’ll be surrounded by flame within the hour.’
Nick’s response was immediate. ‘So, what, we’re fucked?’
A grin split scarred lips. ‘You wake Mickey-O, get Kira and McKay. I’ll finalise the preparations and get the men ready. I can have us out in fifteen.’
Nick glanced back towards the lawn. Tents were being disassembled with almost inhuman speed. Engines were already beginning to rumble in the crisp morning air, exhaust fumes mixed with the smoke. The last of the crates of supplies were packed into pick-ups.
Nick raised his brows in silent affirmation and held out his hand. ‘My gut tells me that we have a road to follow before this is over, so I just want to say thanks, good luck, and look after Lily. That woman is something special.’
The grin left Knight’s face at the mention of Lily. ‘I failed her once. I’ll die before I do again.’
Their handshake was firm, brief. Knight’s grip was warm. Nick’s was sweaty.
The door swung inwards silently, the trip wire long gone. His boots were loud on the timber floor as he sped to where he needed to go. Three bangs on Kira’s brother’s old bedroom door had Mickey-O opening the portal with a snap.
‘Fire,’ Nick said. ‘On the horizon. Knight’s packing up the others. It’s time to go.’
Mickey-O slapped him on the shoulder, turned and began to gather his possessions. Nick didn’t hesitate at his door, he left the man to his work and ran for the hatch.
The ladder, the living room, the hall. The bedroom door.
For a brief moment he paused, his hand hovered over the brass handle. What if he opened it up and they were in the middle of fucking? What if he discovered they no longer needed him, that his anger had pushed them into each other’s arms, but without him in the middle?
He hesitated, held on the precipice until he realised it didn’t matter. Their safety was paramount, whatever turmoil he held in his chest.
The door swung open on smooth hinges.
There they were, wrapped in each other. Blankets twisted about naked bodies. Kira’s bronze skin and Euan’s pale muscles. A white shoulder, a tanned forearm. One toned female leg was exposed to the air and wrapped around a rounded male hip. Euan’s back was to the door, but his upper torso had already turned before Nick’s eyes had fully adjusted to the limited lighting. Brown eyes were upon him. Their gazes snagged. Nick was held immobile, no words formed, no gestures were made. But Euan read him as though his features spelled words on a page.
If his reaction was anything to go by, Euan read flashing warnings all over his face.
Euan moved before Nick had the chance to blink. He tugged on his boots while Nick found his clothes on the floor and handed them over. Their fingers brushed. Nick jerked when the zap of electricity shot through him. Their connection had always been like that, visceral, real, consuming. He’d ignored it for the sake of his hurt. But now there was no opportunity to doubt their relationship. There was no opportunity for anything except to get the fuck out.
As Euan pulled on his shirt, Kira sat upright and swiped her hair out of her face. ‘What’s going on?’
Big hands were on Nick’s shoulders. Brown eyes that were full of questions were above him. Nick found his voice and said, ‘Fire, on the horizon.’
Euan nodded, turned. ‘Kira, sweetheart, time to go. Pack your shit.’
Simple words. Crude, direct, authoritative. They were the directive they craved, that they missed. Euan took the lead, Nick and Kira followed. They snapped into comfortable responsibilities. The simmering tension between them evaporated. The questions, the anger, the betrayal all dissipated for the sake of their safety and their lives. Euan was once again in charge, and despite the oncoming danger, all was right with the world.
The sky was gold when they emerged from the house. Clouds of amber, orange and red marred the grey. The rising sun was a ball of enraged crimson fire. It bled red light onto the land, tainted the dormant oak and pine that surrounded their home and painted the sky with fingers coated in blood. Smoke billowed over the trees in a growing mass of ghostly air. Plumes of dust, ash and the remnants of life. The air was polluted with the smell of embers and fire. Of decay and loss. Of death.
Nick’s eyes were drawn skywards. Birds parroted overhead. They squawked and bickered as they escaped the oncoming blaze. Masses of the winged creatures formed flocks as they accumulated together in their flight. The gates of hell had opened. They were not going to be sucked into the flame.
Their flight singled the need for haste. They foretold the end of their time sheltered and safe. One more step off the porch and the three of them would be whipped into the tornado of anarchy. Hunted, hounded, on their feet, running for their lives. This would now be their narrative.
Nick moved until he stood alongside Euan. Kira stepped forward until she was in line with Nick. Shoulder to shoulder, the three of them created a wall to the chaos that would come. They stared at the growing smoke cloud as it reached towards the heavens. Side by side, they would prevail. Together, they would buffer the threats to their foundations. Their future was unknown. Their journey fraught with danger and fear. But together, potentially they would behold the beginnings of a new world, a good world. A world where goodness prevailed and the strong protected the weak.