Page 51 of What We Become

That is not a cabin.

When the SUV rounds the final switchback and the trees fall away, a structure that is three stories of timber, stone, and glass appears, cantilevered over the edge of the ridge. Floor-to-ceiling windows catch the last of the afternoon light. A wraparound deck overlooks the valley.

“This is what Odin thinks is roughing it?” Micah asks, staring up at the deluxe retreat.

“This cannot be classed as a cabin,” Fury says from beside me, her face pressed to the tinted glass. “My god. Did we take a wrong turn?”

Eli pulls the SUV into a gravel circle with a stone path leading to the front door. It’s heavy timber, with iron hardware, built like the entrance to a fortress.

I scan the area. Cameras cover every corner. One visible road in. No neighboring roofs.

Defensible.

Excessive, but defensible.

Eli kills the engine.

“Dibs on the biggest room,” Fury says. “I almost died in a wall. So I think it’s only fair.”

Holden snorts. “No one was gonna fight you, wildcat. You always get the biggest room.”

She bats her eyelashes. “Because I’ve almost died twice now?”

Holden leans across the seats and presses his forehead to hers. “Because we fucking love you.”

Fury smiles as he presses a kiss to her temple and releases her. I open the door and stretch my legs, taking another look at our surroundings before I lift her out of the car.

While the gate leading into the property required a code, a discreet camera beside the front door scans my face. The lock clicks open before I’ve finished reading the housing. I lower Fury to the ground, handing her off to Micah, and go in first. At this point it’s muscle memory, a habit built into the subconscious part of my brain. With one hand on my weapon, I sweep the entry. Foyer. Whatever this room is.

Seriously, Odin?

The foyer opens into a great room with ceilings that go up thirty feet. Exposed timber beams thick as my thigh line the room, and a stone fireplace tall enough for me to stand inside without ducking dominates one wall. The far wall is floor-to-ceiling glass, framing the valley like a painting. Underfoot are wide-plank hardwood floors polished to a soft sheen.

There’s a sectional sofa the color of charcoal that could seat all six of us with room to spare. A coffee table made from a single slab of live-edge wood. Bookshelves built into the walls—these seem filled with an eclectic mix of battered paperbacks and dog-eared hardcovers, so surprisingly not staged. The art on the walls I don’t recognize but can tell costs money because the frames alone look handmade.

I clear the room. Check the sight lines. There are two exits visible from the front door—the main entrance and a set of French doors off the deck.

Good.

Behind me, Fury is still beside Micah, both of them frozen in the doorway.

“Roughing it,” she repeats, shaking her head.

“I wonder how we’ll cope,” Micah adds.

Milo pushes past them, abandoning the suitcase in the entry. He stands in the center of the great room, turning in a slow circle with his arms spread wide.

“No. No, no, no!” He points at the fireplace. “That is hand-laid river rock. That mantel is a single beam of reclaimed Douglas fir. Is that—” He stops. Tips his head toward the ceiling. “Is that a Bose system built into the ceiling? Into the ceiling, Knox! He put surround sound in a safe house!”

“Keep moving,” I say, because I need to clear the rest of the first floor.

He doesn’t keep moving. He finds the dining room that has a table built to seat ten. It’s solid timber, with a chandelier made from antler and wrought iron hanging above it. He barges through the house. I follow, cursing him.

We clear the study, which holds a leather desk, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and bronze reading lamps.

“What is this place?” Milo whispers, shaking his head slowly.

I’m checking window locks in the mudroom when I freeze. There’s a whimper, followed by a strangled grunt.