Carolina Moon

Trek through the Quiet: Tess

The kitchen felt different after Grady left. K.C.’s confession and knowing that Grady had our back should’ve brought relief, and in a way, it did. But the air in the bungalow still had a stiffness to it that only seemed to worsen the longer we had to wait for the call from Leon.

I couldn’t just sit still and wait. My hands were still trembling from the server-room adrenaline. I had to give myself a task, something I could steady myself with to prevent a spiral.

Before I got up, I looked at K.C. again. He was staring out the kitchen window toward the tree line. I didn’t say anything, I just went into the bedroom. I pulled my suitcase out of the top of my closet and opened it on top of the unmade bed.

I had to pack logically. Thick socks. My most durable jeans. Every external hard drive I still owned. I grabbed the small first-aid kit out of the bathroom along with extra gauze and the antiseptic. I resigned myself to the idea that even if the cabin was a no-go, we couldn’t stay here anymore. As a result, I found myself packing for K.C. too. The clothes he’d bought from the General Store and a couple of flannels he’d left here before that still smelled like him all went into the suitcase.

I looked at my closet, at the sundresses and skirts, pieces of the New Tess I’d created in Cypress Hollow that I couldn’t bring with me. I turned away from the clothes and zipped up my suitcase feeling a melancholy taking root in my chest.

In the kitchen, Marcus and Holden were back inside. They were focused on stripping the tactical gear of any identifying marks. I filled a kettle with water and put it on the stove while they worked in a strange, focused silence. “Caleb, Ronan, and Mason are going to stay here,” K.C. said quietly while I gathered stuff out of the kitchen to stuff inside a smaller duffel bag. “They’ll stay visible, make it look like we’re still inside if anyone’s watching. Marcus and Holden will accompany us to the cabin.”

I nodded, “I can put the inside lights on timers, and I’ll put a playlist on. Really sell it.”

We needed to create the illusion of a couple hiding in plain sight while we really moved in the dark.

The kettle started to whistle, and I poured a few cups of tea. K.C. sat at the table watching the burner phone. Outside, I could hear the cicadas. It should’ve been a sound of comfort, but instead it was just noise filling the silence.

It was after five in the morning when the burner phone rang. I felt ragged from the lack of sleep. Leon’s voice was low and gravelly when I answered the phone. “The cabin’s cold, Tess,” he reassured me. “No bugs, no thermal signatures, and the perimeter sensors haven’t been tripped since they were set up months ago. My boys are hunkered down about a mile out. It’s as safe as a wolf’s den could get.”

“Thank you, Leon,” I managed quietly.

I relayed the message, and saw the tension finally start to ease out of K.C.’s shoulders. It was replaced by a sharp, predatory readiness.

We didn’t use the front door. K.C. carried the suitcase out of the back while I had the duffel thrown over my shoulder.

We reached the tree line, and I could see the red-and-blue flash of Grady’s lights in the distance, near the center of town. I gripped the bag tighter, hoping I could burn down the empire Stroud was trying to build once and for all.

The trek into the marsh was silent, governed by hand signals and the language of the pack. K.C. led the way, his movements fluid and nearly soundless despite the heavy suitcase. Behind me, Marcus and Holden acted as guards. Their heads were constantly swiveling, scenting the air for any trace of the mercenaries or the metallic tang of more S-Grate sensors.

The ground was spongy, the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves rising up to meet us. Every snap of a twig felt like a gunshot to my ears, but the wolves never flinched.

We avoided the established trails, sticking to an old, overgrown logging road that had been mostly reclaimed by nature. The canopy was so thick here that the moonlight only hit the ground in jagged, silver needles.

My legs were burning. I was not a hiker, and the humidity was a thick weight on my skin as well as in my lungs. K.C. seemed to sense my dropping energy levels. He paused, passing the suitcase back to Marcus so he could reach out and steady me over a fallen log. His touch was hot, steady, and grounding.

Deep in a thicket of pines, a blacked-out, heavy duty truck was waiting. There were no lights, but as we approached, the driver’s side window rolled down an inch.

One of Leon’s men that I recognized from the smelting plant, a wolf named Grant Mercer, was at the wheel. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded to K.C., and hopped out to help Marcus throw our gear into the bed of the truck.

Before we climbed in, K.C. stopped. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. I watched him scent the air, then he scanned the tree line, making sure no one had followed us from the bungalow. The silence of the woods was absolute, except for the low croak of a bullfrog.

Holden joined us in the truck while Marcus headed back to the bungalow to lead the decoy team. The truck itself was a rolling fortress. The windows were tinted so dark I could barely see out of them.

K.C. pulled me close against him in the backseat of the cab. Holden took the front passenger seat, his eyes fixed on the tree line that bordered the road.

As the dark trees blurred past, I thought about the shop, and the life I thought I had under control. Sylvie would know we were back soon. She’d be calling to find out when I’d return since we weren’t gone for the full two weeks. I swallowed, trying not to worry about what hadn’t happened yet.

The first light of dawn began to turn the sky a bruised purple. The smell of salt and mud was being replaced by the sharp, clean scent of pine resin. We rounded a sharp bend where the trees opened up to a hidden valley. Nestled against a creek, looking like it grew straight out of the earth, was the cabin.

The front porch was exactly as K.C. had described it. As the truck rolled to a stop, I saw two dark figures standing sentry on the edge of the yard. They weren’t in tactical gear, they were just…waiting.

K.C. noticed the way I tensed beside him, and he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly. “Leon’s men,” he murmured, “it’s okay.”

I let out a slow exhale as we stepped out of the truck. The light from the rising sun reflected off the creek water and hit the cabin, casting it in a golden glow. There was a soft breeze that rustled the trees and I could smell the sawdust and the light scent of wildflowers growing on the edge of the property.