21 Trophies

Becca

I shiver as I step through the door of the packhouse. Looking around on alert, I mentally scold myself for thinking about it as a packhouse. I have to make sure not to call it that in front of Brock.

The inside looks reasonably clean and renovated. It is a two-story building, not much bigger than the other houses, but the difference is still significant.

The polished wood creaks under my hiking boots as I wipe my sweaty palms on my loose t-shirt nervously.

Brock proudly shows us around and points out the most important trophies on the wall, telling stories of how he caught and killed each. He likes to hunt; we get it. He has the entire living room to demonstrate it. Let’s hope only for animals and not the supernatural.

‘That ship has sailed,’ Bliss confirms, and I have to agree. He proved us right with that phone call. Not to mention how he sneaked into the house to go through our backpacks. Just the thought gives me shivers.

‘We are lucky to have Jason on our side,’ I tell