Kristi ran blindly, her lungs burning. Every turn, every alley, every doorway more of them.
Pale faces grinning in the dark, closing in from every direction.
Her breath hitched, her legs weak. Then, through the swarm, she saw it... an opening between two cars.
A chance. She darted forward before the path was sealed.
Straight into a trap.
Something extended from behind a rusted sedan. A blur of white and shadow, claws slashed across her thigh.
Kristi released a blood curdling scream, stumbling into the street. Blood spilled hot down her leg. The pain was dizzying.
They surrounded her. Almost two dozen.
Smiling, waiting.
She sank to her knees. "Please…"
A voice cut through the horrid laughter.
"What's up, bitches?"
Kristi blinked.
A bottle came spinning through the air. It smashed against the pavement.
Whoosh!
A bloom of fire lighting up the street. The creatures hissed, recoiling from the flames.
Monte burst from the smoke, rifle in hand, the weapon cracking with each shot.
His boots pounded the ground as he closed the distance, firing in controlled bursts, staggering every creature that got too close.
He reached Kristi, grabbed her by the waist, and slung her over his shoulder in one smooth motion.
"Hang on, Doc."
He started backing away, step by step, his gun barking in rhythm with his pulse.
The creatures advanced, hissing and laughing, forming a half ring around them.
Just ten feet back, Jasmine stood perfectly still, her grin a razor's edge in the firelight.
Monte didn't see her, not until he caught the flicker of motion in the corner of his eye.
The boy in white stood by the trees, watching silently. Then he pointed, directly behind Monte.
Monte spun and fired. Bullets tore through Jasmine's face. She screeched and stumbled back, just long enough for Monte to push through the gap.
She slashed at him as he passed... her claws catching the rifle, snapping it clean in half.
Monte dropped it, drew his Glock, and fired over his shoulder as he ran. Each shot forced the monsters to flinch, buying him seconds at a time.
The diner came into view...
The door was open, lights flickering. Monte's stomach dropped.
No time to think. He kept running, bolting down the street toward Miranda's house.
He bounded up the steps and pounded on the door. It flew open and Jim stood there, eyes wide.
Monte rushed inside, slamming the door behind him. The creatures shrieked, pounding on the walls and tapping the windows.
Monte set Kristi down on the couch. She was limp, breathing shallow.
Sara dropped at his side, sobbing, throwing her arms around him. Ethan clung to his leg.
Monte ruffled Ethan's hair and kissed Sara once before crouching by Kristi's side.
Her pant leg was soaked with blood. Her eyelids fluttered, but she was out cold.
Jim asked, "Do you even know what you're doing?"
Monte didn't even look up. "I don't know if you noticed, but I'm the best chance she's got. Don't get in my way."
Tabitha grabbed Jim's arm. "Let him work."
Monte tore open Kristi's pant leg. The gash ran deep but clean. He'd seen worse in alleyway brawls.
"Needle, thread, alcohol, rags," he barked.
Everyone scattered.
Sara stayed beside him, her hands trembling. "I thought I'd never see you again."
Monte didn't look up, pressing a rag against the wound. "Told you before," he said softly. "I always come back."
She sobbed quietly against his shoulder as he worked.
Jim returned first with a bottle of whiskey. Tabitha followed with a sewing kit. Miranda brought clean rags from upstairs.
Monte nodded his thanks and handed Sara a rag. "Press here." She nodded firmly.
He poured whiskey straight into the wound. Kristi groaned weakly, but didn't wake.
Monte threaded the needle and began to stitch... quick, rough, efficient.
The bleeding slowed.
When it was done, he tied off the last stitch, cleaned it again, and wrapped it tight.
"She'll live," Monte said, finally leaning back.
The room exhaled. Even Ethan grinned, relief breaking through the fear.
Monte stood and walked to the sink, washing the blood off his hands.
Behind him, Jim said quietly, "You shouldn't have gone out there. You could've gotten everyone killed. Sara almost..."
Monte slammed his palms on the counter. "Would you just shut the fuck up?!"
The room froze.
"I get it," Monte snapped. "You don't like me. You don't trust me. Fine. But don't try and lecture me."
Jim didn't respond.
Monte looked around, saw Ethan hiding behind Tabitha, trembling. The anger drained from his face.
"I'm sorry, kid," he said softly. Then to Jim, calm but sharp, "I meant what I said."
He walked out, shoulders heavy. Sara followed quietly, close enough to touch but giving him space.
Miranda met them halfway up the stairs. "You can take the other guest room," she said gently. "I'll grab some clothes for you, Sara."
Sara nodded, voice small. "Thanks, Mira."
Miranda smiled faintly and turned away, stopping by Meghan's room. The little girl was asleep, her face peaceful in the glow of a nightlight.
Miranda lingered a moment, whispering to herself, "Wish I could sleep that easy."
Then she moved on to her own room. To find something clean and soft for Sara to wear.
The chore was something normal in a night that had been anything but.
...
Sara led Monte quietly down the hall. The house was silent now, except for the low wind outside and the faint laughter still drifting from somewhere far away.
She pushed open the door to the guest room. The place smelled faintly of soap and old wood. "Come on," she said softly, nodding toward the bathroom.
Monte followed, his movements slower now. His shirt was soaked with blood again. When he tried to pull it off, he winced.
Sara stepped closer to help him. "You're bleeding again."
He tried to shrug it off. "It's fine."
Monte stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his athletic frame, soothing his tired muscles.
The sharp pain in his back, a lingering reminder of his recent scuffle, but was momentarily forgotten as the warmth enveloped him.
His tousled black waves clung to his head, and his green eyes, usually sharp and alert, softened under the steam.
The bathroom, with its sleek tiles and fogged-up glass, became a sanctuary from the chaos of his life as Boyd's new sheriff deputy and the strangness of this town.
But, it wasn't much different than the life that had once been intertwined with the dangerous world of mobsters.
Sara followed, her alabaster skin glistening under the water. Her wavy brown hair cascaded down her back.
Her blue eyes were filled with a mix of concern and tenderness, locked onto Monte's wound.
She stepped closer, her slim figure moving with grace, and reached for the soap.
Her touch was gentle yet firm as she began to wash the injury, her fingers tracing the inflamed skin with care.
"You really need to be more careful," she murmured, her voice soft but laced with a hint of reproach.
Monte let out a low chuckle, his gaze never leaving hers. "Easier said than done, Sara. You know how it is."
His voice was casual, but there was an underlying tension in his words. A reminder of the dangers they both faced in their isolated village.
Sara's kindness and caring nature had been a beacon of light in the darkness, and Monte found himself drawn to her more with each passing day.
As she continued to tend to his wound, Monte's patience wore thin.
He pulled her in front of him, his hands roaming freely over her body. His touch was deliberate, possessive.
He squeezed her perky breasts, his thumbs brushing against her nipples until they hardened into tight buds.
Sara gasped, her head tilting back as she leaned into his touch. "Monte," she breathed, her voice a mix of surprise and desire.
He pressed his body against hers, his erection throbbing against her stomach.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. His hands moved lower, cupping her full ass, pulling her closer to him.
Sara moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders for balance as he positioned himself at her entrance.
He slid inside her slowly, the warmth of her body enveloping him like a second skin.
Their bodies moved in sync, the water beating down on them like a rhythmic drum, amplifying the intimacy of the moment.
Just as Monte increased his pace, the bathroom door creaked open.
Miranda, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, caught a glimpse of them through the steam.
"I-I'll leave the clothes on the counter," she stammered, her voice barely audible.
Sara's eyes widened, but Monte's grip on her tightened, his movements never faltering.
"Thank you," Sara managed to breathe, her voice shaky as she tilted her head back, her body arching in response to Monte's deepening thrusts.
Miranda quickly retreated, leaving the door slightly ajar. Monte pressed Sara against the wall, his cock pounding relentlessly into her wet pussy.
The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the steamy bathroom, a primal rhythm that drowned out the world outside.
Sara's moans grew louder, her nails digging into Monte's shoulders as he fucked her with a ferocity that matched the storm raging within him.
Without warning, Monte flipped her around, turning her to face him.
He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as she guided his cock back into her dripping hole.
Their eyes locked, green meeting blue, as he thrust into her again, his balls slapping against her with each stroke.
The water continued to cascade over them, washing away the sweat and tension.
Leaving only the raw, unfiltered passion between them.
Sara's breath came in short gasps, her body trembling as she neared the edge. "Monte," she whispered, her voice urgent.
He growled in response, his thrusts becoming more frantic, more desperate.
Together, they teetered on the precipice, their bodies moving as one until they finally tipped over, falling into the abyss of orgasm.
Monte's release was intense, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his seed, marking her as his.
As their breaths slowed and their hearts returned to a steady rhythm, Monte gently lowered Sara to the ground.
The water rinsed away the evidence of their passion, leaving them clean but still tangled in each other's arms.
They stepped out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a stark contrast to the heat they had just shared.
Monte wrapped a towel around Sara's slender frame, his hand lingering on her waist as he pulled her close.
Their eyes met in the mirror, a silent understanding passing between them.
Monte's green eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that belied his tough exterior.
Sara's blue eyes sparkled with a mix of satisfaction and affection, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.
The moment lingered, suspended in time, as they stood there, drying off, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of their passion.
Monte's hand finally dropped from her waist, but the connection remained, unspoken yet undeniable.
They pulled on some underwear in silence, the weight of their shared intimacy hanging in the air.
As they left the bathroom, Sara saw the clothes Miranda had left on the counter a subtle reminder of the interruption.
Monte's arm slipped around Sara's shoulders, pulling her close.
Their steps were slow, deliberate, as if they were savoring the last remnants of the moment they had just shared.
The world outside the house awaited them, with its dangers and uncertainties, but for now, they were safe.
Together. And in that fleeting moment, it was enough.
Sara crawled into bed, pulling the blanket around herself. Monte sat on the edge for a moment, his exhaustion finally catching up to him.
He slid under the blanket next to Sara, feeling her soft body press against him.
For a long while, neither spoke. Sara just listened to his heartbeat, to the wind, to the faint creak of the old house.
Sara whispered, "I thought I was gonna lose you."
Monte murmured, "You can't get rid of me that easy."
Sara smiled, her eyes closing as sleep finally took her.
Monte lay awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, his hand brushing through her damp hair.
Outside, the laughter faded into the distance. For now, the night was quiet.
...
A sharp pain lanced through Monte's side.
He groaned, eyes fluttering open... and then he froze.
Sara was standing over him, her face pale, her hands shaking. Blood streaked her fingers. A knife gleamed in her grip.
She whispered his name over and over, voice trembling. "Monte… Monte…"
Then...
His vision flickered.
Monte's eyes snapped open for real. His pulse thundered in his ears. His hands were wrapped around Sara's throat.
She gasped, clawing weakly at his wrists, tears in her eyes.
Reality hit him like a gunshot.
Monte let go instantly, stumbling back, horrified. "Sara... I'm sorry. I didn't… I didn't mean to."
Sara coughed, trying to catch her breath. She saw the panic in his eyes, the way his hands shook.
Slowly, she crawled across the floor toward him.
"It's okay," she whispered, voice raw. "I know you didn't mean to."
Monte blinked hard, his breathing ragged. "I promised I'd never hurt you."
Sara reached up, cupping his cheek. "You didn't. I'm okay."
Monte's eyes flicked down. A faint bruise was already forming where his hands had been.
He touched it gently, guilt twisting in his gut. "I could've killed you."
Sara didn't flinch. She met his eyes, blue meeting green. She tenderly whispered, "I know."
He swallowed hard, then pulled her into his arms, holding her like she might vanish if he let go.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, Monte muttered, "It was a nightmare. I don't get them often."
Sara brushed her fingers through his hair. "What was it about?"
He hesitated. "You stabbed me."
Sara's breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes. "I wouldn't. I'd never..."
Monte pressed his forehead to hers. "I know."
Sara's tears fell against his skin.
Monte's hands trembled as he held her tighter, waiting for their heartbeats to calm.
Both of them clinging to the fragile calm that followed the storm.
As he held her, he couldn't help but stare at the bruise on her neck, guilt tightening his jaw.
Outside, the morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains.
The beams were pale, uncertain, like the day itself wasn't sure it wanted to begin.