Savage by Nancy Holder Page A

like he had probably killed her father.
    He took another step closer.
    There was nowhere to run.
    His eyes darkened and the towel fell on the ground, leaving the bare knife in his right hand, glinting wickedly in the light.
    He was standing right in front of her now, close enough that she could feel his breath, hear his heart. His eyes burned into her; she could taste bile spilling into her mouth.
    “Girl, you tell me right now what happened.”
    Strike first , said a voice inside her head.

5
    STRIKE FIRST.
    Katelyn took a deep breath as some kind of switch turned on and adrenaline surged through her, pouring into her veins, feeding her aggression impulse. Ed practically tapped his booted toes on the cabin floor and waited for her to explain herself. Swimming in the river? It was snowing outside. Snowball fight. Snow wouldn’t make her this filthy.
    He crossed his arms, the wintry sun catching the sheen of the blade and throwing the reflection around the room. The rows of animal heads on his walls seemed to blink at her. This man killed things.
    So did she. So would she. She knew it.
    “Tree,” she blurted out. “A tree fell and it was blocking me. And with the snow and all . . .”
    “Did you even try to call me?” he asked her.
    “No service.” There was an excellent chance that that was true. “And it didn’t look that big. But I slipped. In the snow.” She forced a goofy, abashed smile on her face. “It was just a-a sapling but the ground is all muddy and, um, here I am.”
    He scowled at her. “You should have gone back to Paulette’s and called me. I have a chainsaw.”
    “Maybe I could keep it in my car,” she said, and then she quaked, because saying that might remind him that she still had his gun that shot silver bullets. Justin had it now. Maybe if her grandfather asked to see it, she could say that it had been stolen.
    His face worked as if he were about to say something, maybe about how ridiculous it was to continue to live in a cabin in the middle of a forest on a mountain where people were getting killed, and you had to think about packing a gun and a chainsaw just to get home and back. And that he had forced her to move there with him. She knew now that he had had his reasons. She just wasn’t sure what they were.
    “So anyway, next time I’ll call,” she said, darting past him. Then she stopped. She had to know. “Is Trick okay?”
    That made him smile. “Yeah, the boy’s okay. Got sprung from jail. No evidence to connect him to Mike Wright’s death. They’re saying animal attack.”
    “Oh, Grandpa,” she said in a rush. “That’s good. That’s so good.”
    They shared a moment. It felt as if Trick was practically in the room with them, and she looked down at her filthy fingernails. “Can I go take a shower?”
    “Katie,” he said, and then he pursed his lips together as if to prevent his saying something and gave her a nod. “Did Paulette’s mama feed you at least?”
    “Yes, Grandpa,” she lied. She didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten, and she was starving. But lying clearly was the better course of action. “Pancakes.”
    “Sure. Go take a shower. A long one.” He cricked his head toward the stairs, and Katelyn escaped.
    She checked her phone for texts and messages from Justin and Cordelia. Nothing.
    She gave herself the gift — there was that word again — of a fleeting smile, took a long shower, and collapsed into bed.
    Dreams came:
    Katelyn .
    Click click click.
    Don’t run from me.
    In the room.
    I marked you.
    Hot breath on her cheek. In her ear.
    Come with me.

    Voices woke her. Moonlit snowflakes drifted down from her skylight and she got up. She peeled out of her pajamas and quickly dressed in jeans, a sports bra, and a plaid shirt, grabbing a pair of socks as she left her room and went to the top of the stairs.
    She froze.
    Men and women were milling about in the cabin’s front room. They were warmly dressed and heavily armed — shotguns