All Chapters of The Hawkins Blood: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I grew up in a modest two-story ranch tucked away on the edge of town, surrounded by four acres of dry Nevada earth and brush. A metal gate used to hang at the entrance, secured with a thick chain that clanked when the wind blew through. But as William pulled up to the property, the gate was hanging half-open, the chain snapped, and one of the fence posts bent back like it had been rammed by something—or someone.Our house was isolated enough from Yerrington that no one from town would’ve seen or heard anything suspicious. Mom and I never made many trips into town outside of our yearly breakfast tradition. Groceries? Once or twice a month, tops. But soon, someone would start to notice her absence.The gravel driveway crunched under the car’s tires. It brought back a memory—me at seven or eight, running around with a plastic airplane, tripping and scraping my knee so hard I nearly passed out from the sting. I remember wanting to cry but forcing myself not to.

The days melted together, and grief bled into shock until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.I avoided the TV. Alexandra promised he’d keep an eye on the news, just in case there was any word about my mother. But I wasn’t expecting any miracles. I knew the Yerington police wouldn’t just let something like that go. Eventually, they’d come looking for me.William kept his distance. Typical. Strangely enough, I found a sort of comfort in his detachment. I got it—my grief probably made him uncomfortable, and instead of trying and failing to fix it, he chose silence. Distance. It was almost… respectful.Alex, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He hovered. He meant well, but everything about him screamed sympathy I wasn’t ready for. If there was one thing I’d come to understand about the Hawkins brothers, it was that they operated like night and day.Where William was blunt and distant, Alex was gentle and patient. And

Unfortunately, the buzz didn’t last as long as I would’ve liked. Two hours into the drive, I was stone-cold sober and groaning for aspirin to ease the pounding headache that felt like someone was playing drums behind my eyes. Alexandra and William found my misery absolutely hilarious. William, in particular, couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. Alexandra was slightly more merciful—slightly.I don’t even remember how long we were on the road before we finally stopped. It felt like eighteen hours of pure torture. Between the blaring classic rock and the non-stop bickering from the front seat, I thought I might actually go insane.“I’m telling you, you must’ve missed something,” William snapped at Alexandra.I’d already stopped paying attention to their back-and-forth hours ago.“Dude,” Alexandra replied, trying to keep his cool, “I checked everything—LexisNexis, local PD reports, news archives. Nothing. Not a single red flag. Are you even sure

The sign above the entrance read GREENFIELD HOSPITAL. I tugged at the collar of my too-stiff blazer, silently cursing whoever invented formalwear. My bun was so tight it pulled at my scalp, and every instinct screamed at me to rip it down, but I resisted.“Would you quit fidgeting?” William muttered beside me as we climbed the steps. “You’ll blow our cover before we even walk in.”“If you’d just keep your mouth shut, I wouldn’t have to,” I shot back.William rolled his eyes and pulled out two IDs from his coat. He kept one and handed the other to Alexandra. I checked mine discreetly, just feeling for its weight in my jacket pocket.The automatic doors opened with a soft hiss, and that’s when Alexandra let out an annoyed squawk.“Oh, come on, I am not using this one.”William turned with a grin. “What’s wrong with it?”“It says ‘Bikini Inspector.’ Seriously?”I had to bury my face in my arm to keep from laug

The motel at 256 Court became our base of operations for the next few days. We didn’t argue about it—there was no point.Honestly, I couldn’t care less where we holed up. My mind was too wrapped around the pages of my mother’s hunting journal, flipping through faded entries for any mention of a Ravager. But there was nothing. Not even a footnote.William pulled the Impala up to the curb in front of the motel’s main office and killed the engine. I slid my mother’s journal into my duffel, tucking it beneath a pile of clothes like it was some fragile artifact. With a quiet sigh, I shoved the bag to the floorboard and stepped out of the backseat.Alexandra slammed the passenger door behind him. “So what the hell is a Ravager?”William closed the driver’s side door and gave a half-hearted shrug. “Kind of like a witch… I think. Not totally sure.”“I’ve never heard of it,” Alexandra muttered, frowning. “And it’s not in Anthony’s journal.”