Chapter 32 - A Confession and A Child

“You said they were a crew—mostly scientists—and they’re familiar with Erlin?” Emily asked, her breath still ragged from a late-night core-hunting mission with Gazier. Hound, standing near a cracked windowframe, sighed with fatigue from her relentless questions, already regretting he’d revealed so much.

“Yes, are you familiar with them?” he countered, eyeing Emily warily. She hesitated, glancing away in a manner that piqued his suspicion. In a swift movement, he closed the gap between them until their noses almost touched. “Spill!”

Emily steadied his face with her palms, fingers resting gently along his jawline. She searched his eyes—dark and intense—before placing a brief peck on his lower lip. The moment was fleeting but charged with electricity. She slipped past him, making her way to the grand glass window overlooking the skeletal skyline outside. “What are we doing, Hound?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t think I understand your question. Speak plainly,” he said, following her to the window. Sunlight tried to break through a haze of dust, revealing the streets littered with decaying bodies. The sickly-sweet stench of rot filled the air, a constant reminder that death was ever-present in CorpseHaven.

“We’ve gotten closer these past weeks—working together, sharing intimate moments… You touch me in ways no one else does. You hold me so passionately, but then you act so aloof. And I let you. I’m still a woman with needs and desires. So what are your intentions?” she demanded, turning to face him again, her gaze unwavering.

“Speak plainly, Em.” His voice was low, refusing to yield until she spelled it out.

“I want to be with you,” Emily admitted. Hound’s lips curled into a soft chuckle.

“This is funny to you?” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. She spun around and headed for the door, unwilling to endure his teasing any longer. In a blur, Hound caught a fistful of her hair, yanking her back into him. She inhaled sharply, conceding to his dominance. His breath skimmed her ear as he whispered, “The thought of telling our future kids the story of how we met will always crack me up.”

A tentative smile flickered across her face. That flicker of warmth dissolved into shock when he began unbuttoning her white long-sleeved shirt, and she felt the sudden rush of heat on her cheeks.

The moment shattered at the sound of approaching footsteps. They pulled apart instantly. The ornate doors groaned open, a seer stepping inside to announce, “Baron Evee has come to see you, sir.”

“Let her in,” Hound said, voice cool and controlled. Evee’s authoritative presence swept into the room, carrying a surprising addition: a young child at her side. Despite her reputation for compassion, it was startling that she’d adopt such a dangerous liability in a place like CorpseHaven.

“I have a confession to make,” Evee said in a subdued voice, her eyes cast downward.

Hound, his posture rigid, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Let me guess. You got too comfortable sharing a bed with someone who didn’t keep your secrets. They found out about the book, burned it, and now you’re on the brink of impeachment. Did I cover everything?”

“I’ll never get used to that freaky thing you do,” she murmured, moving toward a nearby table. There, a bottle of red wine and a single glass waited—remarkably pristine in this bleak environment. She poured the glass to the brim, then met his gaze. “So, now what?”

“Everything leading up to them seizing the book is correct. But the part after that? A blatant lie. I anticipated this. The real continuation is on the counter,” he said, voice distant, as though he were bored with the confession. “And the kid?”

Evee’s voice rose, revealing her resolve. “She’s with me. I’ll look after her from now on, regardless of what you decide for me… or for her.”

“If you say so,” he replied dismissively, turning on his heel and striding out the door. Emily followed him, her earlier flush fading to stoic composure. Evee, in turn, gulped down a mouthful of wine with abandon, then handed the rest to the child, whose name appeared to be Sofie, before they continued behind them.

A few steps ahead, Hound paused and aimed a pointed glare over his shoulder. “The scene that’s about to unfold is not good for a child’s development. You’re better off staying here.”

Sofie took a swig of the wine, her nose wrinkling at its dry bite. “I’m grown,” she stated defiantly. Evee stood firm beside her, adding, “We’re in the middle of an epidemic. If she can handle that, she can handle this.”

Saying nothing more, Hound led them onward to a stout metal door. On the other side, the muffled sound of bones being crushed echoed with every wet, snapping vibration. The hall outside was brightly lit, the warmth of day filtering in, as though mocking the horror within.

“Open it,” Hound ordered, his voice resonating like an executioner’s drum, and the seer stepped forward to comply.