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Chronicles of a Sentinel, Wounds of the Past
Chapter 30: Unwelcome Arrival.

Chapter 30: Unwelcome Arrival.

Chapter 30: Unwelcome Arrival.

The cabin's warmth seemed to wither under the weight of Holts presence. Snow melted in puddles beneath his feet, each drop echoing like a ticking clock in the tense silence. Holts slowly removed his hood and mask, revealing a smirk that felt more like a wolf baring its teeth. “Well, isn’t anyone going to say hello?” His voice slithered into the room, unsettling as the storm outside.

Talon’s fists clenched by his sides, his body taut like a bowstring ready to snap. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice low, laced with barely contained rage.

Ava, her movements deliberate and sharp, drew her pistol from beneath her jacket. The barrel aimed unerringly at Holts, her finger resting lightly on the trigger. The weapon felt like an extension of her will—a deadly promise. "Answer him," she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a shard of ice.

Holts chuckled, his smirk growing wider, unfazed by the danger pointed at him. "Can’t a father come to see his son?" he drawled, leaning back against the wall as if he owned the place.

Ava’s eyes narrowed. "You’ve got two seconds to give us a real answer before I put you in the ground."

Sarah, standing in the corner, her confusion palpable, glanced between Talon and Ava, trying to piece together what was happening. "What’s going on? Who is this man?" she asked, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Holts’s gaze shifted to Sarah, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Oh, hasn’t my son told you about me? That’s rude, Talon," he remarked, settling himself into a chair with a casual arrogance that belied the danger in the room.

Talon’s jaw clenched, his voice tight with restrained fury. "This is my father," he spat, the words tasting like venom on his tongue.

Holts nodded, as though the admission was nothing more than a casual introduction. "And you guys point guns at your family?" Sarah asked, incredulous.

Ava’s gaze never left Holts, the pistol steady in her hands. "Well, the last time we saw him, he tried to kill us and threatened to burn Green Arbor to the ground," she explained, her voice flat, devoid of emotion.

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Holts raised his hands, the picture of mock innocence. "That may have been a mistake," he said dismissively, as though discussing a misplaced bet rather than a threat on their lives.

Ava’s lips curled into a sneer. "And then you came back, crawling like a rat," she hissed, her finger tightening on the trigger.

Holts’s smirk faltered, a flash of something darker passing through his eyes. "You did kill most of my best men when you left. That made me look weak. After you left, the wolves came knocking, each one thinking they could take a bite." His voice dropped, the weight of his words heavy with menace. "And now, I’m here because I need something from you."

Talon’s fury boiled over. His foot slammed into the chair, sending Holts crashing to the ground. The air in the room crackled with tension as Talon loomed over him, his voice a growl. "You brought your filthy life into mine! You brought this to my family!"

Holts, now sprawled on the floor, raised his hands defensively, a flash of fear breaking through his calm facade. "I just need you and the blonde death over there to handle some business, and everything will be fine. You don’t want them coming after you. Trust me."

Ava’s eyes darkened, the memories of their past with Holts swirling like storm clouds in her mind. She stepped forward, the pistol in her hand cold and steady. Her voice was low, dangerous. "Move, Talon. Let me end this liar."

Holts’s smirk vanished, his breath quickening as he saw death in Ava’s eyes. "If you kill me," he stammered, "then you won’t know what’s coming. There’s something bigger coming for all of us."

Ava’s finger twitched on the trigger, her eyes hard as steel, but she hesitated, something in his tone striking a chord of suspicion. She took a step back, her frustration visible as she holstered the gun.

Eli and Sarah exchanged a bewildered glance. Sarah’s face was pale, her voice a whisper. "You were going to kill him, just like that, weren’t you?"

Ava turned to face her, her expression unreadable, the cold calculation in her voice chilling. "That was the plan," she said nonchalantly, shrugging as if murder were just another task on her list.

Holts, still on the ground, began to rise slowly, dusting off the snow and dirt as though the encounter had merely been a mild inconvenience. He straightened his coat, his smile returning, but his eyes gleamed with something far more sinister.

"You’ll need me alive," Holts murmured, locking eyes with Ava. "You’ll need me when they come knocking. And trust me, *they will* come."

The cabin’s once-warm atmosphere now felt suffocating, the cold outside nothing compared to the chill that had settled inside. As the storm outside howled and the fire crackled softly in the hearth, it was clear to everyone in the room—the storm that Holts brought was just beginning.