Chapter 6: The Siege Begins
The cabin held its breath with us. Dust motes hung still in the pale light leaking through the crooked shutters, and the smell of cedar and old blood, maybe just rust, sat thick in my throat. I was on my knees near the tripwire Maya had rigged, my fingers still tingling from the heat of what we'd done, Niko's scent on my skin, Maya's voice still warm in my ears. All of it felt like a dream now, a stupid, desperate dream.
Ethan had gone quiet at the window. He stood with his back to us, one hand braced against the frame, his knife held low at his side. The scar on his forearm caught the light when he shifted. He'd been like that for a while, just watching the treeline.
"Anything?" Maya whispered.
Ethan shook his head without turning. "Wind's picking up."
The cabin creaked around us, a long groan that ran through the walls like a shiver. I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. Niko sat beside me, close enough that his shoulder pressed against mine. His hand found my thigh, squeezed once, then let go. Reassurance. Or goodbye. I couldn't tell the difference anymore.
"We should check the boards again," Maya said. She was already moving toward the door, her voice tight and controlled, the way it got when she was trying not to fall apart.
"They'll hold." Ethan turned from the window. His face was pale in the dim light, but his eyes were steady. "I checked them twice."
"So check them a third time."
"Maya." He softened. "They're fine. We're fine."
She stopped, one hand on the barricade, and for a second her shoulders sagged. Then she straightened and came back to sit beside me. She smelled like sweat and pine and the faint, clean scent of her grandmother's necklace, which she was twisting between her fingers.
"Sorry," she murmured. "I just hate sitting here."
"It's better than running," Niko said. "We're safe in here."
The wind hit the side of the cabin and the whole structure groaned. The door rattled in its frame, and a thin line of cold air slipped through the gap beneath it, raising goosebumps along my arms. I stared at that sliver of dark, willing it to stay empty.
Then the door shuddered.
Not the wind. A blow. Heavy and deliberate, a fist or a shoulder slamming against the wood from outside. The barricade jumped, and Ethan's voice cut through the dark like a blade.
"They're here."
Everything moved at once. Ethan was at the door before I could breathe, throwing his weight against the boards. Maya scrambled to her feet, snatching up the heavy iron skillet we'd found by the stove. Niko grabbed the axe handle from the corner, his knuckles going white.
I was still on the floor, frozen, my heart slamming against my ribs. The door took another blow, and a board splintered with a sound like a bone breaking. Through the gap I saw it. A gloved hand, thick and dark, reaching through, groping for the barricade.
"Anissa!" Maya's voice cracked. "Get up!"
I scrambled backward, my hand closing on the kitchen knife we'd left on the table. The cold steel steadied me, grounded me. I was on my feet when the hand found the edge of a board and tore it loose with a wrenching scream of nails.
Ethan drove the point of his blade into the hand. The killer grunted, a low animal sound, and the hand vanished. The board swung half-open, and cold night air poured in along with a sound that made my blood freeze. A laugh. Low and unhurried, like we were a joke.
"Fuck that," Niko breathed. He lifted the axe handle and slammed it against the door, driving the board back into place. The laugh came again, closer now, pressed against the wood.
"Little mice in a trap," a voice said, muffled but clear. "Come out and play."
Ethan pressed his shoulder against the frame, his chest heaving. "We hold this door. We hold it until they've got nothing left."
The wood groaned. Somewhere above us, the roof creaked, and a scatter of dust fell through the gaps. Maya touched my arm, and her fingers were shaking. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.
The next blow hit the door like a thunderclap, and a second board split down the middle.
The board gave way with a scream of tortured wood, and the gap widened enough for a face to press against it. Dark eyes, flat and hungry, scanned the cabin’s dim interior. Ethan didn't hesitate. He drove his blade through the gap, over the killer's shoulder, missing by inches. The face vanished.
"Now, Niko!" Ethan shouted.
Niko swung the axe handle like a baseball bat, the heavy wood cracking against the doorframe and sending splinters flying into the night. There was a wet grunt, a sound of pain, and then a body stumbling backward into the darkness. The door hung half-open, the barricade sagging.
"Let him go," Ethan ground out. "Let him run."
He stepped into the gap, knife raised, scanning the treeline. Maya moved to his shoulder, skillet balanced in her hand like a weapon she knew how to use. I crept closer, knife slick in my palm, my heart hammering so loud I was sure the whole forest could hear it.
A rustle of leaves. Footsteps, fast and uneven, retreating into the dark. Then silence. The wind dropped suddenly, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
"Fuck," Niko gasped. He was leaning against the wall, the axe handle dangling from his fingers. "I think I got him."
"Where?" Ethan asked, not lowering his knife.
"Shoulder. Maybe head. I wasn't aiming." Niko's grin was shaky. "But it felt good."
"Get the door back up." Ethan turned, scanning the treeline again. "He'll be back. Both of them will."
We worked fast, dragging the barricade boards back into place and hammering in the few nails we had left. Maya found a length of rope in her bag and lashed the door shut, her fingers moving quick and sure. I held the beam in place while she tied the knots, my arms burning from the effort.
Then we just stood there, listening.
The cabin creaked. The wind returned, a low whistle through the gaps. But nothing touched the door. No blow, no laugh, no sound of hands scraping the wood. Minutes crawled by. I counted my heartbeats until I lost track somewhere past two hundred.
"They're waiting," Maya said softly. She was sitting by the stove now, the skillet set down at her feet, her knees drawn up to her chest. "They want us to think it's over."
Ethan sank down beside her, his knife still in his hand. "Or they're regrouping. Niko hurt him."
"I hurt him," Niko said. He was on the floor near the door, back against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead. "He won't be swinging that arm again tonight."
"Maybe." Ethan didn't sound convinced. "I didn't see any blood."
The words hung in the air. I moved to Niko's side and sat down, close enough that our shoulders touched. His hand found mine, squeezed, and this time it felt like reassurance, not goodbye.
"We should take turns," I said. "One at the window, one at the door. Two sleeping, two watching."
Maya nodded slowly. "Two hours each. Ethan and I first. You two sleep."
Niko opened his mouth to argue, but I touched his arm. "She's right. We need rest. We'll swap when it's time."
He exhaled, long and slow, and leaned his head back against the wall. "Fine. But if I hear anything..."
"You'll be awake," Ethan said, a hint of warmth in his voice. "We all will."
The cabin settled around us, its old bones groaning with the wind. I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep. I kept seeing the killer's face at the gap, those flat dark eyes, the casual cruelty of that laugh. We'd driven him off once. That just made him angrier.
Somewhere in the dark, he was waiting. Wounded or not, watching this door, counting our breaths the way we were counting his. And when he came back, he wouldn't be alone.