Micah hauls it down the curvy road, unusually silent for someone who never stops running his mouth. I glance over at him, taking notice of his tense muscles and even more tense jawline. His teeth are grit, nostrils flared like he’s ready to drive us all off a cliff. He finally cracks the driver-side window to allow fresh air inside the cab and we both relax some.

His eyes flicker between the rearview mirror and the road ahead, but he never utters a word. Something is bothering him. I understand he doesn’t like disobeying our father, but he still agreed to help me do this. It’s too late to turn back now. We’ve made it too far, spilled too much blood.

I flip through the small brown sketchbook, taking note of her talent before stashing it inside my back pocket. It took over an hour to find it but I knew I couldn't leave without it. It will be a way to gain her trust, and by the looks of the drawings she’s been beyond curious of me. Which means I have a chance.

I turn to face the back seat, double checking her zip-ties and focusing on her steady heartbeat. Usually so frantic and rapid, it's slowed down tremendously since the sedative was injected into her. The blood oozing from her brow has finally stopped but the scent of it still fills the tiny cab of the car. I continue to resist the urge to feed, knowing that once I start I may not be able to stop. The only safe way is to drain via IV, but we need to get settled at home before that can happen. I just have to be patient.

“I need to get the fuck out of this car.” Micah mumbles under his breath, knuckles white as they grip the steering wheel. His foot taps erratically against the floorboard. He’s starving, the same as everyone else.

This is the first time he’s spoken since we left the house. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting himself and gripping tighter to the steering wheel. The acceleration of the car knocks my head back against the headrest and I snarl at him for being so reckless.

“Slow down before you get us all killed.” I sign aggressively but I doubt he noticed. What the hell is his problem?

Her home is only about a thirty minute drive from our house surprisingly, but with Micah driving we made it home in about fifteen. As we pull into the driveway the garage door to our home opens slowly without either of us initiating it and my heart sinks.

Dad’s oil stained jeans and work boots come into view first while the rest of him is gradually revealed as the garage door opens the rest of the way. His tattooed arms are folded across his chest, teeth grit in the same fashion as Micah’s. Proving their relation by looking almost identical when they’re pissed off.

Micah can’t seem to get out of the car fast enough and flees the cab, leaving me inside with the culprit of everyone's discomfort. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the lecture that is sure to come and slowly exit the BMW.

Dad wastes no time laying into me. “What the fuck were you thinking?” He roars, already catching a whiff of the girl laid unconscious in the rear seat of the car. He doesn't give me time to answer. “You weren’t thinking up here!” He points to my head. “I can assure you of that.”

Rumbling and grunting thuds behind me, alerting my dad that there’s not one- but two people brought here without his consent.

“Have you lost your mind?” He hisses in my direction.

Micah pretends to wipe something off of his Harley with his shirt, inspecting it closely but listening in on the conversation. Dad stomps around to the back of the BMW and demands that the trunk be opened. Micah obeys, pressing the button on his keys to undo the hatch.

The husband is gagged, but still manages to make quite a bit of noise regardless. Dad sighs through his nose, shaking his head in defeat before slamming the trunk closed again. The husband kicks and rocks from the inside of the trunk, his voice now more muffled by the closed off space.

“So what now boss man?” Dad’s attention turns to me. “Since you seem to have this all figured out without consulting me!”

“We’re keeping her.” I sign slowly, calmly.

“Like a fucking pet.” Micah chimes in sarcastically.

Dad rolls his eyes. “And the dickhead in the trunk?”

“Drain him.” I shrug.

“And then what happens when people start looking for them, son? They’re locals! They work, eat, and sleep in the same God-forsaken town as us!”

“We can erase them like we always do.”

I can tell that my lack of urgency regarding this situation is only ruffling more of Dad’s feathers. While I realize what happened with the last girl I became infatuated with caused everyone a lot of grief, I know that I’ve grown more controlled as the years have passed. I know what I’m doing, and how to calm myself now. If only he’d allow me to prove myself I could show him that.

Stolen novel; please report.

The garage goes silent for a moment, including the racket coming from the trunk. I feel eyes on me from every angle, wishing for once that Micah would back me up. Only he was completely against this from the start, so I shouldn’t expect his support- but it would be nice.

“I can handle this by myself.” I push past Dad who’s muscular arms are still folded defensively across his chest.

Micah pops the trunk once again as I stomp toward it. The husband ramps back up his kicking and hollering through the gag and I waste no time knocking him out with one fatal blow to the side of his head. There’s a loud crack and he immediately falls unconscious which brings a level of satisfaction that I can’t describe.

Fucking pretty-boy, how does it feel to be on the other end of a fist for once?

I toss his lifeless body over my shoulder like he weighs nothing, carrying him over to the hidden bunker door that resides on the far side of the garage. To most onlookers the door resembles part of the wall- completely flush with the drywall and blends in perfectly. One pull of a rope and the door is revealed, leading underground to the bunker the three of us built years ago when we moved here. It comes in handy.

I carry him down the stairs, plopping him into a vacant room and chain him to the wall. I’ll deal with him later.

When I hike back up the stairs I notice Micah leaning against the open car door, peering into the rear seat along with Dad who’s expression shows he’s still not convinced that this is a good idea. I linger in the darkness of the stairwell for a few minutes, listening to their conversation.

“She smells so fucking good.” Micah comments under his breath.

“Hmm-” Dad agrees half-heartedly. “She won't last long here.”

Micah stays silent for a moment, his brow furrowed like he’s thinking hard. “But what if she does?”

“Don’t count on it, son.” Dad pats him on the shoulder before walking back inside, seeming to have enough of this and retreating indoors. “You remember what happened to the last one. Don't get attached.”

My heart sinks. I wait for the door to close behind him before I emerge from the stairwell, closing the secret door behind me. Micah’s gaze finally breaks from the girl in the back seat and trails over to me. His expression is indifferent as he steps away from the vehicle. I pause before reaching the car, eyes locking into his.

“She’s safe here.” I confirm.

He nods, but seems hesitant.

“You’re going to make sure of that.”

He looks concerned but he doesn't disagree.

“I trust your judgement. If you ever feel that she’s unsafe I need you to intervene.” He knows that I’m referring to myself without me having to specify.

Micah chews the inside of his cheek nervously like he wants to say something but yet again remains unusually silent.

As much as I hate to admit it, especially in front of Dad- Micah is stronger willed than me. Mostly due to experience that comes with age. He’s made a few mistakes in his lifetime and none of us have a clean record, but he’s always been the more level-headed one of us. Even if he does run his mouth too much.

“I’ll do my best.” He finally agrees softly, eyes wandering back inside the car. Something is off with him tonight.

“Things will go right this time brother. I promise.” I confirm when he glances back in my direction. He nods cautiously before turning on his heel and going inside, leaving me alone with my prize without another word.

I reach into the back seat and begin to shimmy her lifeless body out. Gently, she falls from the backseat and into my arms. I bounce her up to get a better grip on her, feeling how light she truly is now that the adrenaline has worn off. Her head rolls back, her long golden locks feathering over my arm. My eyes trail over every feature, every freckle and blemish on her delicate skin. Her lips part open revealing her two front teeth that stick out a bit resembling a chipmunk. Just like Rue.

My lips curl into a smile. She’s perfect, right down to her bare feet.

I carry her past the threshold leading into the kitchen and kick the door behind me closed. The house is quiet, leading me to believe dad went to bed already. Good.

I turn right, passing by the rustic living room furniture and heading up the stairs on the left. They lead up to mine and my brother's rooms, mine situated at the end of the hall. It’s the master suite of the house that ended up being mine. Dad prefers being on the first floor as the main line of defense for the house- should anything ever happen.

I unlock my bedroom door with the pin pad built into the handle and push through. It's been a while since I slept in a bed… my bed. It's still perfectly made with black satin sheets and a furry black comforter. Multiple pillows varying in size scatter against the wall patterning black and white. Everything is just how I left it and my shoulders relax some.

I carry her over to the make-shift cell that I built a few months back. It’s taken over the majority of my full sized closet but it’s not like I was using it much anyway. The cell door slides open with a clang, metal bars hitting the wall. I stumble in, realizing this wouldn't hold a man my size but for her it will do just fine. She can stand up fully and take about five or so steps in each direction. It’s not spacious by any means, but serves its purpose.

I hope she won't hate me for leaving her here like this. It’s better than the treatment her husband will be receiving, that much is certain. She will be thankful for this once she sees how he’s being handled twenty feet below. In the meantime, this will be a safety precaution until she learns the rules around here.

I begin to cut through her ties with my pocket knife when her body rolls onto her back as a sigh escapes her lips. My eyes fixate on her bloodied lips and nose, feeling a twinge inside my chest for her. The wound on her face is swelling badly and still oozing a little. It looks painful- and smells delicious. I lick my lips, resisting the urge to bend down and taste her.

It's not time yet. Not tonight.

The time will come soon enough where she will let me feed on her, but in the meantime I can use her husband as my next meal to tide me over. I cover her body with a nearby blanket and leave her to sleep for the night, locking the cell door behind me. Tomorrow will be a new beginning for all of us.

Sleep tight- Little mouse.