Chapter 161: Jake
The wind groans against the walls like it’s trying to break in.
I glance at my phone for the fifth time in a minute. Still no signal. Nothing. Same for Reid’s. His jaw’s tight, arms crossed, and he hasn’t said a word in a while—not since the last time I checked the weather radar and told him it looked worse than this time last year.
The air in the house is heavy, like the pressure’s dropped and we’re sitting in the eye of something we can’t quite name.
He finally speaks, voice low and tight. “I have a bad fucking feeling.”
I drag a hand down my face and exhale. “It’s just the storm. Messes with your head. The dark, the noise, the pressure drop—makes everyone paranoid.”
He turns his head, slow, deliberate. His eyes cut into me. “Don’t gaslight me, Jake.”
I blink.
Then sigh.
Because he’s right. I feel it too. I’ve been pretending it’s nothing, but it’s not nothing. It’s her.
Madeline.
She’s not here, and we feel it like a missing lung.
I toss my phone onto the couch. “We’re not subtle anymore, huh.”
Reid gives a humorless laugh. “Subtle? Jake, I watched you nearly punch out a dockhand this morning for looking at her too long.”
I don't deny it.
Because I almost did.
And Reid’s not one to talk. I’ve seen the way he watches her like she’s made of glass and fire at the same time.
He shifts on the couch and mutters, “If we don’t figure out how to tell the team soon, I’m just gonna say it. I don’t care. She should live here. With us.”
My chest tightens, a kneejerk reaction. Not because he’s wrong—but because I don’t want to force it.
“That has to be her choice,” I say. “You know that.”
He’s quiet for a beat, then nods. “Yeah. I know. But I hate her being there. With them. With that fucking door that doesn’t lock properly and people coming in and out all the damn time.”
“I know.” I rub at the back of my neck. “I know.”
The lights flicker once—this quick stutter.
Then they go out. Gone.
Darkness drops like a curtain.
“Fuck,” we both mutter, almost at the same time.
I’m already up and moving, muscle memory kicking in. Reid heads to the utility closet, grabs the emergency outage kit while I dig around under the cabinet for the battery-powered heater.
It’s not much. But it’s enough.
Candles. Flashlights. A couple of thick blankets. A solar battery we charged earlier in the year powers the small heater we set up in the living room. Without power, the house will freeze fast, and this storm isn’t slowing down.
The moment the heater starts humming, I catch Reid staring at the window.
He doesn’t move.
I say his name.
He doesn’t answer.
Just says, voice low: “If she’s scared right now, if she’s cold, alone—” His jaw clenches. “—we fucked up.”
My throat is dry. I feel it too.
She should be here. With us.
We’re not just protective anymore. We’re not just into her.
We’re full-on obsessed. Claimed. Hooked.
I grab a flashlight and throw a blanket on the couch. “Let’s hope the morning clears things up.”
Reid doesn’t answer.
And I know we’re both thinking the same thing.
We should have gone to get her.
I glance at my phone again. Dead as ever. “Okay,” I say slowly. “The crew house has a maritime walkie, right?”
Reid stops what he’s doing, his eyes sharpening. “Yeah. That backup one on the top shelf in the hall closet.”
“Let’s see if it’s on,” I say. “Maybe we can at least get some kind of check-in.”
We dig it out, slap in a couple fresh batteries, and turn it on. Static buzzes immediately. For a moment, nothing.
Then—crackling, wind.
Then chaos.
The sound blares through the tiny speaker—rushing wind, loud bangs, something shattering. Screams.
Reid and I lock eyes, frozen.
“What the fuck—?” I start.
“Guys?” a voice comes through, distorted and breathless. “Guys—? Jake? Reid?!”
It’s Finn.
Reid lunges for the mic. “Finn? What the hell’s going on?!”
More static. Then: “—we’re out—trying to get to you—the house, man—it’s freezing, a window blew out—Madeline—”
The rest cuts out in a high shriek of static.
“What about Madeline?!” I shout into the radio. “Finn—what happened?!”
More static. Bits of words. “…groceries… almost… she’s… gone—”
Reid grabs the radio from me. “Where are you right now?!”
Finn’s voice again, barely audible. “Out—out of the house… storm—trying—your place—”
Then silence.
“Fuck!” I explode, tossing the walkie on the counter. “What the hell does that mean? Why the fuck were they out?! Where is she?!”
Reid doesn’t answer. His face has gone stone-cold. That dangerous kind of quiet I’ve only seen a few times in my life.
I’m already moving. I grab my coat. “We need to go get them.”
He’s right behind me, pulling on boots. We reach the door, throw it open—
And stop dead.
“Motherfucker,” I hiss.
A massive tree trunk lies across our driveway. Completely blocking both vehicles. The wind must’ve snapped it clean.
We stare at it, both breathing heavy.
“I’m not waiting,” Reid says, already jumping off the porch.
“Neither am I.”
We take off at a sprint. The rain lashes against us. The wind howls like a beast. But there’s no other option.
We have to get to her.