Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 176552 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 883(@200wpm)___ 706(@250wpm)___ 589(@300wpm)
“That’s apparently my nickname now. They started with it this morning.”
I kept scrolling, pausing on one from a few days ago.
You think you’re untouchable.
I know where all the bodies are buried.
Even the ones you forgot.
“The one about bodies?”
He smirked. “You know my bodies are never found once they’re buried in the ground.”
Yeah. That was true.
“I can’t believe Sanj thought Ashton could be behind any of this,” Cade speculated. “Deadweight is not that creative.”
I laughed, sharp and cold. “He could’ve surprised us. Chess club and Dennis weren’t exactly top-tier predators either.”
Cade grunted. “Okay, fair point.”
Our conversation died off as we crossed into an area with cracked sidewalks and mailboxes attached to the houses. If Hemlock had a hood, we were in it now.
Cade’s knuckles tapped a rhythm against the wheel as he took a left. “Damn, guess our ride isn’t so special after all.”
I glanced over and spotted the car he was eyeing. Its paint was chipped, its hood was dented, and it had a busted tail light.
“That was an Impala,” I said.
“No need to show-off, bro. We know you’re the smarter twin.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I laughed.
Cade grinned. “I prefer this to that. The cruiser is growing on me a little. Our hunchbacked Trojan horse with no Bluetooth.”
My grin faded as we slowed at the next intersection, the dim glow from the streetlights casting long, fractured shadows across the road.
“We close?” Cade asked.
“Just up ahead.”
The convenience store’s neon sign blinked erratically, casting a sickly green hue across the parking lot. Hunt gear was displayed in the dirty ass windows, alongside Crowsfell and Hemlock High merch. They advertised hot food for sale. I wouldn’t drink air from this place. The store itself was empty, save for a bored-looking cashier scrolling on his phone behind the counter.
Cade guided the car around the back, the tires crunching over loose gravel. There, in the shadows, an older model Lincoln waited, its engine off, windows dark. My brother pulled in beside it, angled slightly. We sat there for a beat, the weight of what was about to go down settling in.
“Ready?” Cade asked, reaching for his phone.
I nodded, powering mine off too. “Let’s get this over with.”
Xander was our driver.
Rook lounged in the passenger seat, window cracked just enough to let the smoke of his blunt curl out. His gaze drifted to the skyline, glassy eyes, like he was already carving the moment into a poem someone would get nightmares from if they read it.
Beside me, Cade shifted, leaning down to unzip the duffel between his feet. Inside, the streetlights caught glints of black leather, matte steel, and the kind of tools that didn’t belong in anyone’s gym bag. He tossed me a pair of gloves, then took a set for himself.
Rook flicked ash out the window, his grin lazy when he turned to look at us. “You kids ready?”
Cade flexed his hands. “Yes, daddy.”
Xander chuckled.
Rook’s smile deepened, his ember flaring one last time before he dropped the blunt and rolled up the window. “Good.”
Xander turned down another road and slowed as he killed the headlights. The Lincoln coasted to a quiet stop along a curb, tires crunching over loose gravel.
“That’s the house?” I asked, eyes locked on the two-story dump ahead. Faded yellow siding peeled like dead skin, and the porch looked like it hadn’t seen a level beam since the nineties.
Xander stared at it with visible disbelief. “Reaper didn’t say it was this bad.”
Cade studied it more objectively. “Looks about right for the school mascot. Haunted, hopeless...maybe actually haunted.”
My mouth twitched. “Whimsical.”
The place was dark, except for two windows. One on the first floor and another on the second. The porch light was trying to do something, but I’d seen lighters burn brighter.
“Side door?” Xander asked, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.
Rook nodded. “Best option. The front has too much visibility.”
“Perfect.” I reached for a ski mask, yanking it down until the world narrowed to black cotton and slitted vision.
Cade had his on already, adjusting it with practiced ease. “Let’s do this.”
We moved as one, the car doors closing with soft thuds that barely disturbed the quiet. The air was thick and damp, heavy with the scent of male cat piss and decaying leaves.
Rook led the way.
We followed close, silent shadows cutting across the weeds and cracked pavement.
The side door was buried beneath a rotting awning, nearly hidden in the dark. Rook crouched, gloved fingers already moving to unzip his lockpick kit. The rest of us fell into position, Xander watching the alley behind the house, Cade angled toward the front. I watched our backs. A soft click broke the silence, and the door eased open. Rook slipped his tools back into his kit and shoved it in his pocket, his eyes catching mine through the slits in his mask.
“After you.”
We slipped inside.
Cade shut the door behind us and locked it back.