Page 7 of Rune’s Solace

“I am good.”

And standing there in the late-afternoon light with Sawyer across from me, a biology quiz I already knew I’d aced and Brenda waiting for me later, it was mostly true.

Mostly was enough.

***

The drive back always felt different.

Same car. Same bridge. Same forty minutes.

Different direction.

By then the day had started wearing on me, and the farther I got from campus the more aware I became of where I was headed. Not because I hated the compound. I didn’t. It was home, or as close to that word as I’d ever gotten without immediately wanting to argue with it.

At the compound, people knew too much.

They knew when I hadn’t slept. Knew when I skipped breakfast. Knew which door was mine and which nights I kept the light on. Brenda could read one look on my face and start making coffee before I’d admitted anything was wrong.

I’d gotten very good at planning ahead. Most days I crossed the yard without turning my head, which meant I didn’t notice whether he was outside, what he was doing in the garden, whether smoke was coming from the chimney, or if his bike was parked beside the steps.

The fact that I knew all of those things without looking was beside the point.

I was doing great.

At the top of the bridge I caught a red light and texted Sawyer.

Across. Unmurdered.

His reply came before the light changed. A thumbs up and knife emoji.

I laughed alone in the car.

Then the light went green and I drove down the other side toward the compound, toward Brenda and dinner and the room I slept in, and when the gate came into view I turned the radio down even though it hadn’t been loud.

Habit.

The prospect waved me through, and I lifted a hand back as I drove toward the clubhouse, but for one second my eyes wandered past it, down through the trees toward the cabin, before I caught myself.

“Nope.”

I said it out loud to nobody, and kept my eyes straight ahead.

CHAPTER THREE

I KNEW SOMETHING was wrong before I got the car in park, because Brenda was running, and Brenda didn’t run.

She came out the side door of the clubhouse with both hands over her mouth and headed straight for the trees at the back of the property, not slowing down, not looking where she was going. I sat there half in and half out of the car with my bag still over my shoulder, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

Then Horse came out after her.

That was when I knew it was bad.

Horse didn’t run either. He was a big man who moved at his own speed and expected the rest of the world to deal with it, but he was almost jogging after her, his face wrong in a way I’d never seen. I dropped my bag onto the seat and stepped into his path before I’d even decided what I was doing.

“Horse. Hey. What happened.”

“Amy, honey, not now.” He tried to go around me.