WHERE TO NOW? (M/M) 18+

Chapter 47

I'M BACKKK BITCHEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ🙏😝🤗🤭🥳 I think? DaMN I've missed you😭

The Offer.

We all sat around the living room, the quiet crackle of the fireplace a low hum beneath the tension still clinging to my skin. The fire's warmth soothed some restless part of me, but not completely. Not yet.

It had been almost an hour since we let them in—Marcus on the couch, Lucas standing stiffly behind it, and Quinn perched like a shadow on the armrest, one leg braced up, the other dangling loose over the front, his arms draped around his shin with casual ease.

Earlier, when Damien and I had brought them inside, he'd told me to go get Kieran and the others—told me to be careful. I hadn't understood why until I opened the door to Kieran's room and found myself staring down the barrel of a shotgun. He'd kept the others upstairs after Damien ordered him to, apparently slipping past me without a sound while I was still rooted in the chaos out front.

Now, the living room hummed with low voices and guarded trust.

"How many of you are there?" Damien asked, unmoving in his place on the other side of the coffee table. He stood like a fortress, legs spread, arms folded tight over his chest—every part of him a silent warning.

"Twelve," Marcus answered casually. "Five wounded."

"How badly?" Kieran asked from where he stood beside me at the bottom of the stairs, his thumb resting against his lip in that nervous tick of his.

"Bad enough that they're out of the fight," Marcus said evenly. "We're not asking anything of you. No supplies. Just shelter. One night."

"You said you're with a settlement," Damien pressed, his voice steady but sharper now. His eyes were locked on Marcus, but there was something else behind them—like his thoughts were already one step ahead, already moving towards the next threat, the next plan.

Marcus nodded once. "Northwest of here. About two days' drive, tucked in behind the hills. We don't advertise it. We've been keeping our heads down, picking up strays when we can."

"Why us?" Kieran asked, his voice low, skeptical. "Why follow our trail?"

Marcus looked at him, then at Damien. "Because you're not just surviving. You're moving with purpose. You're organised. Careful. You're protecting something." His gaze flicked briefly towards me—towards the staircase behind us where the kids were tucked away. "Someone."

Beside me, I felt Kieran tense. I did too.

Damien didn't move. His expression didn't shift. But I felt the room tighten around him, like the air itself was holding its breath.

Quinn hadn't said a word. He leaned back just slightly on the armrest, his eyes unreadable, but watching. Always watching. The flicker of the firelight cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look carved from something older, something still and lethal. The flames reflected in his eyes, turning the calm blue into something almost clear, as if the fire itself was burning in his gaze.

"We don't need saving," Damien said, and his voice was like gravel, quiet but heavy. "We're not looking for alliances."

"We know," Marcus said. "But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

Damien's jaw flexed, and his head tilted slightly. His eyes bore into Marcus. "What's your angle?"

"There isn't one."