Chapter 2: Moonlight and Wound Ointment

It’s all I can smell. I bite my lip, fighting back more tears. The world blurs, and all I can think is that this isn’t how things are supposed to be. This isn’t what family is.

Lowering my red-rimmed eyes, I grab Savannah’s sleeve and beg, “Savannah, please stop hitting him.”

My voice is raw, barely audible. I clutch her sleeve, desperate. My chest aches. The riding crop hangs from her hand, the leather stained. She hesitates, just for a second, and I hope it’s enough.

The villain, Mason Holt, endured every kind of torment as a teen. Later, when he got power, he hunted down everyone who’d hurt him.

They say every villain has an origin story. Mason’s is written in scars and silence. I heard whispers about him long before I ever met him. He’s the cautionary tale parents tell their kids: don’t cross the line, or you’ll end up like Mason Holt. I shudder just thinking about it.

Boiling oil, burying people alive—he did it all. Or so the stories go. I almost don’t want to believe them.

The stories are almost too wild to believe. But I’ve seen the way he looks at people, the way his eyes go flat and cold. It’s enough to make anyone believe. The thought makes my stomach knot.

I’m already terrified of him and worried for my sister, so my voice is thick with tears. I swallow, wishing I could be braver, just once.

I can’t breathe. My chest is tight. I want to help, but I’m too scared to do anything right. Savannah doesn’t understand. She thinks I’m just weak. I wish she could feel what I feel.

Savannah, exasperated, tosses the crop aside. “Then kick him.” She’s had it with me.

Her patience is gone. She throws the crop down, crossing her arms. I know she’s disappointed, but I can’t help it. My hands are shaking too badly to do anything. I want to disappear.

I glance nervously at Mason. My heart skips.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. There’s a strange calm in his eyes, like he’s used to this—like nothing surprises him anymore. It makes me even more nervous. I look away quickly.

His wounds are already bleeding, but his face doesn’t change. He just stares at me, eyes sharp as a wolf’s. The silence feels heavy.

The blood stains his jeans, and I can see the cuts on his arms. Still, he just waits, his gaze never leaving mine. I feel like a rabbit caught in a trap. I can’t move.

I tremble as I lift my foot and step on his leg, tears streaming down as I stammer, “D-dog... or whatever...” I try to echo Savannah’s words, but my voice cracks.

My voice wobbles. The words barely make sense. My foot lands on his shin, but there’s no force behind it. I can’t bring myself to hurt him. The tears blur my vision, and I start to hiccup from crying so hard.

My legs go weak, and I collapse forward, accidentally straddling Mason. My face burns with embarrassment, and I can’t move.

The world tilts, and suddenly I’m on top of him, my knees on either side of his lap. My face burns with embarrassment, and I can’t move. The barn is so quiet, I can hear my own shaky breathing. I wish the ground would swallow me up.

His expression shifts instantly, his breathing turning rough. Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe, or something darker.

He tenses, his jaw clenched. I’m frozen, unsure what to do. My heart thuds in my ears. Why does everything have to be so awkward?

Panicked, I try to get up, but I’m so scared I have no strength. My limbs feel like jelly.

Every time I try to move, I just end up back where I started. It’s humiliating, and I want to cry even more. Why can’t I just do something right?

With red eyes, I look at Mason and mumble, “Sorry...” I can’t look at him. My cheeks are blotchy, and I feel so small.

The apology is barely a whisper, but I mean it. My eyes are swollen and my cheeks are blotchy, and I can’t meet his gaze. I just want to disappear.

He closes his eyes. His jaw clenches. For a second, I think he might yell at me, but he just breathes out slowly. There’s a tension in his whole body, like he’s holding something back. I feel even worse.

Savannah lifts me up, scolding me hard. “What are you so scared of him for? If I say put some muscle into it, do it!”

She grabs me by the arm, pulling me to my feet. Her words are sharp, but there’s worry in her eyes. She doesn’t get it—she never has. I wish I could explain.

I gently pat his face again, my fingers brushing his chin, and the tears just won’t stop. Why can’t I stop crying?

It’s almost a reflex now, the need to comfort even as I’m supposed to be tough. My hand trembles, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. Everything feels too much.

“S-sorry.” I whisper again, my voice hoarse. I can’t stop apologizing.

The word feels useless, but it’s all I have. My throat aches, and I just want to run away.

Savannah, annoyed by my tears, finally lets me go. She sighs, rubbing her temples. I can feel her frustration.

She sighs, rubbing her temples. I know I’m a disappointment, but I can’t help it. I just want to go home and hide under my blanket. Why can’t I be braver?

She tells someone to take Mason to the shed out back. Her tone is brisk, all business.

The stablehands move quickly, hauling Mason away. I watch, guilt gnawing at my insides. My hands shake.

I follow Savannah out, but can’t help looking back. Every step away feels heavier. I can’t stop worrying.

I turn, just in time to see Mason’s shoulders slump as he’s led away. I wonder if he hates me now. The guilt is sharp.

Mason is being dragged away. His feet scrape against the dirt, but he doesn’t fight.