The cabin looked abandoned.
Paint peeled off the sides like it had forgotten color. The porch sagged. The woods were too quiet.
But Olivia had no choice.
Her tire was shredded. Her phone was dead. And she hadn’t seen another car in over an hour.
She climbed the creaking steps and knocked.
No answer.
Then she heard it — the click of a rifle behind the door.
Her breath caught.
The door opened slowly.
And he stepped out.
He was tall. Broader than the doorframe. His shirt hung open, revealing a chest covered in scars and ink. One eye was bruised. His beard looked days old. But it was his eyes that made her flinch — dark, unreadable, like he’d seen the world end and never came back.
She tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
“Lost?” he said, voice rough as gravel.
“My… my car. Back tir
