The Door Came Down

The door hit the floor and rain came with it, a cold stripe across the cabin. Splinters flew. Light from flashlights cut the dark like knives. Men filled the doorway big, rough shapes, jackets wet with the forest. One of them held something that looked like a baton. Another had a gun tucked at his hip and his face set like a promise.

Clara's heart slammed against her ribs. Sound went very loud. The stove hissed. Ash moved in a breath that was all speed and muscle. He put himself in front of her like a shield and the world narrowed to his back, the way his shoulders rose and fell, the small tremor there that looked like pain.

Stay down! a voice barked. It was different up close angry and practiced and cold. The leader stepped forward and his light found Ash's face. He had a scar that cut through his left eyebrow and a jaw that wanted to be cruel.

Ash Thorne, he said. We told you to come out. You can't hide.

We're not hiding, Ash said. His voice was flat. He kept his hands where they could be seen. Clara noticed the way his fingers flexed. He did not look like a man about to surrender.

Let the woman go, another man said with a hiss. We just want to talk.

Ash's jaw worked. He did not let go of Clara's hand. He kept his body between her and them like a wall. Clara felt his breath warm on her knuckles. She thought of hospital nights, of stitches, of the small steady duty that had held her through so much. She thought of the way his name had fit inside her like a missing card.

Who are you? she asked. Her voice did not shake as much as she felt.

The leader's face twitched with something like annoyance. We are people trying to keep this town safe. You know that.

I know silly stories, she said. I know fear dressed up as certainty.

You know too much, he said. He took a step closer. His light swept the cabin and found the mark on Ash's collarbone. He narrowed his eyes. What is that?

Ash flinched like the name hurt. Nothing that concerns you.

It concerns us, the leader said. He spat the last word like it tasted wrong. You're a wolf. Wolves kill. We stop killers.

Clara felt the world tilt. She'd read the reports, the rumors people whispered by the diner. Hunters wore righteousness like armor. It made her feel sick and mad and small. She wanted to explain what she knew how he breathed, how he bled, how he had been at the hospital two days ago and breathed like a man who'd been stolen from the world and put back together.

You don't know him, she said. He was bleeding. He was dying. He came to my ER.

The leader's laugh was short. You were alone with him.

So? Clara said. I did my job. I am a nurse.

A man at the back made a sound like a small animal. The leader stepped closer until he was almost touching Ash. His hand twitched toward the gun at his hip. Step away from the woman, he warned.

Ash's hand stilled on Clara's. His eyes were so grey they looked empty. For a second Clara saw something sharp inside them memory or hunger, she couldn't tell. He breathed out very slow. We don't have to fight, he said. Walk away.

No, the leader said. You come with us. We'll make sure the town is safe.

Clara could feel the heat of the stove at her back. She could feel the weight of the cabin closing like a fist. The men around the door shifted. One took a step in. The leader moved to block him and his boot scuffed a puddle of water that had tracked inside.

Ash's hand tightened on her wrist. Pain laced up her arm. She didn't pull away. The grip felt like claim and fear all at once. She felt the pull in her chest like a cord being tugged.

Take your hands off her, she said, and the words surprised her with how fierce they sounded.

The leader's face hardened. He raised his chin. This is between us and him. Step back.

No, Clara said again, louder. I won't watch you take him because you think you have a right to. You don't know what you are doing.

The leader's finger hovered near the gun. For a moment, everything waited on that small motion. Ash's face changed. It cracked like a mask. There was a raw, animal sound in his throat a warning more than a growl. It made Clara's bones tingle in a way she didn't like.

Get out, he said, voice low and dangerous.

They did not move. The leader's hand went toward his gun and the man near the back shifted like he was about to pull something. Clara's mind raced the way it did when someone coded in the ER. Breathe. Make a plan. Move.

Don't, Dr. Wells's voice said behind them. Clara hadn't heard him come. He stood in the doorway with a hospital ID dangling from his neck. You can't storm a private residence like this. This is a hospital matter if you found him at the ER.

The leader swore. Wells. You don't tell us anything.

Wells is with me, Clara said. Relief odd and immediate rose like heat. Dr. Wells held up both hands. He was older and his face was lined but steady. He's under observation. You can't just grab someone.

The leader's eyes narrowed at Dr. Wells. Then his gaze flicked back to Ash. We have reason, he said.

Then get a warrant, Dr. Wells said. You do not break in and terrorize a woman.

The men around the door murmured. Someone cursed. The leader made a decision that looked like it hurt him. Not today, he said. We will come with proper orders.

They backed out like a storm receding. The leader paused at the threshold and hissed, This isn't over. We'll be back.

He stepped into the rain and his men followed. The flashlights bobbed and then were swallowed by the night. The door lay on the floor. The cabin felt hollow where they had been.

Clara let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Her hands shook. Ash's grip loosened but did not leave her. He pressed his forehead to the back of her hand for a second like a benediction and then straightened.

Are you hurt? he asked, suddenly soft.

Not, she stopped. Her palm stung where his fingers had dug in. She felt foolish for the pain and grateful for it. She tasted iron and rain and adrenaline on her tongue.

We should call the hospital," Dr. Wells said. I will come by in the morning. For now

For now, Ash echoed. He looked at Clara like he wanted to say something that might change everything and then put it away. You need to rest.

Clara wanted to move, to clean, to do the small steady things that kept the world from spinning. Instead she sat very still and watched him. There was a scar on his collarbone she hadn't been able to name. There was a mark that looked like a promise or a sentence. There was a thing she felt at the back of her throat that was neither anger nor fear but something older.

From outside came a single bootstep, then another, near the tree line. The town had not left them alone. Someone was watching. Clara looked up and caught Ash's eye. He knew.

We're not done, he said.

He sounded tired and old and ready. Clara held his gaze and felt the thread between them pull taut like a rope ready to snap. The cabin was warm, the rain on the roof like a slow drum, and the night beyond the windows had teeth.

Then we won't be quiet, she said. Her voice was small and steady.

He smiled, and it was not soft. It was full of warning and need. Good, he said.

Outside, in the dark, something moved in the trees and a noise like a low laugh answered them.