Josh slowly straightened his body.
Coyotes instinctively differentiate between weak and strong opponents. The best way to avoid an attack was to visually assert dominance.
As expected, the coyotes hesitated, wary of engaging. They had underestimated his size.
They stretched their necks, ready to lunge, but didn't yet abandon the hunt.
The largest among them, clearly the alpha, took a step forward, baring its teeth with a low growl. Its intent was clear—this prey would not escape.
Maintaining eye contact with the alpha, Josh quickly assessed his available weapons. Fighting a pack of wild animals unard was beyond reckless.
His gun was the first thing that ca to mind.
But he had already used up all his bullets.
Josh clenched his jaw. Did the coyote sohow sense that? It was absurd—but the creature’s unwavering stance made him question it.
Without breaking eye contact, he swiftly scanned his surroundings.
The trunk was still open.
He recalled the monkey wrench inside.
Now, he just needed the right mont to retrieve it.
The bigger problem was Chase.
The car was sowhat safe, but it had one major vulnerability—the shattered rear windshield. A gaping opening, more than enough for an animal to leap through.
Josh kept his voice steady.
"Miller."
His eyes remained fixed on the alpha.
"When I give the signal, move to the front seat. Keep low. I'll handle the rest. Understood?"
Silence.
Josh called out again, firr this ti.
"Miller!"
Still, no response.
Josh risked a glance.
He froze.
Chase’s face was drained of all color.
He looked frozen—not just with fear, but as if his mind had completely shut down.
He didn't even blink.
Josh doubted whether he was even breathing.
Shit.
Realization hit him like a gunshot.
Chase was terrified of dogs.
Josh had seen it before—how he had clung to him, shaking and crying.
Would it help if he told him these were coyotes, not dogs?
Then again, they were both canines.
Maybe he should call them foxes instead? But foxes were canines, too.
Josh rapidly cycled through thoughts before dismissing them all.
Now wasn’t the ti to comfort him.
The mont was now.
Moving slowly, keeping his gaze on the alpha, Josh inched toward the trunk.
He lowered his hand beneath the open trunk door.
His fingers brushed cold steel.
He gripped the wrench tightly.
The alpha sensed the shift imdiately.
It lunged.
Josh roared.
"Miller, move now!"
Coyotes snarled and rushed in.
Chase scread, clutching his head.
"AAAAAAAH!"
"Miller!"
Josh kicked and struck, yelling as he fought.
"Move, damn it! Get to the front seat!"
"A-Aaaah! Ahhh!"
"Chase Miller!"
Josh shouted, but Chase only scread in panic.
Josh cursed.
"Fucking hell!"
A sickening thud sounded as a coyote crumpled from his blow.
Josh slamd the car door shut.
But that wasn’t enough.
The rear windshield was gone.
"You stupid bastard! Can’t you hear ? What the fuck are you doing?"
Sothing lunged at him from behind.
Josh barely dodged before swinging the wrench with all his strength.
The alpha yelped as it was thrown back.
Another one aid for his leg—he kicked it aside.
The pack hesitated.
But it wasn’t over.
A shiver ran down Josh’s spine.
He turned.
Another coyote was mid-air, jaws open wide.
Josh ducked and rolled, slamming the trunk shut as he sprang up.
The animal crashed against it.
But more were coming.
Through it all, Chase remained paralyzed, curled up, shaking.
Shit.
Josh clenched his teeth. He had to change tactics.
He couldn't protect Chase and fight at the sa ti.
The pack had one goal:
To outlast him.
They waited, watching for exhaustion to set in.
The alpha was confident.
It saw the advantage, patiently seeking an opening.
And then—it found one.
As Josh turned to handle another coyote, the alpha lunged for Chase.
Josh's eyes widened.
"CHASE!"
Everything slowed.
Chase lifted his head.
He turned.
And t the coyote’s gaping maw.
Its fangs glead under the moonlight, monts away from his throat.
Chase didn't move.
His mind went blank.
He thought, Maybe it would be easier if it just ended here.
But that mont never ca.
A dull thud echoed.
No pain.
Confused, Chase opened his eyes.
A pair of glowing yellow irises locked onto his.
The coyote still bared its fangs, snarling—
But its prey wasn’t Chase.
Josh had thrown himself between them.
The alpha’s jaws had clamped down—on his arm.
For a second, Chase couldn't breathe.
Josh had taken the bite for him.
The shock was short-lived.
Josh gritted his teeth and smashed the wrench into the coyote’s skull.
It whimpered but held on.
More were coming.
Josh kicked another one aside and yanked his arm free.
Blood dripped down in thick streams.
Chase watched, wide-eyed.
Josh's breath ca in ragged gasps.
A coyote lunged—he struck.
Another charged—he threw it off.
And then—
Chase's vision blurred.
His heart pounded.
His breathing grew shallow.
Help him.
The thought surfaced—
But his body refused to move.
Josh, bleeding, stood firm.
His broad back shielded Chase from the chaos.
Chase was useless.
Helpless.
Even though he knew he should move.
Josh suddenly ripped off his shredded jacket.
His white shirt clung to his battered fra.
For so reason, Chase’s vision burned.
Haa… haa…
His breath grew ragged.
His hands shook as he clutched his chest.
Josh faced three coyotes at once—
And Chase’s world went black.
Sobs echoed.
A child, dressed in overalls, cried uncontrollably.
Tears, snot, and saliva sared his delicate face.
But no one comforted him.
"Chase is weird."
Grayson frowned.
That was the extent of his concern.
Nathaniel idly scrolled through his phone, cigarette between his lips.
Stacey barely reacted.
The younger ones were too small to care.
But none of it mattered.
Because the morning bird didn’t sing that day.
It didn’t eat.
Didn’t drink.
Chase worried about his canary all day, unable to focus in class.
When he rushed ho—
The bird lay still at the bottom of its cage.
His world crumbled.
His scream rang through the house.
Grayson opened the cage.
Tears stread down Chase’s cheeks.
"My bird is sick, Grayson!"
Grayson poked it twice before saying:
"It’s not sick. It’s dead."
"D-Dead?"
"Yeah."
Grayson turned away.
"Guess we should throw it away."
Before Chase could process the words—
The canary landed in the trash.
His scream tore through the room.
Grayson blinked, confused.
Chase scrambled, pulling his bird from the garbage.
It didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Nothing changed.
Hours passed.
He cried and cried, but all he received were cold stares.
"It’s dead, Chase."
Grayson’s tone was light.
"Dead things get thrown away."
But Chase couldn't accept it.
He sobbed.
Grayson tilted his head, puzzled.
Nathaniel, uninterested, muttered:
"Chase has always been weird. Just ignore him."
The words silenced Chase.
He blinked, dazed.
Grayson shrugged and left.
Nathaniel walked away.
Stacey shook her head in disapproval.
They all mocked him.
Chase no longer knew why he was crying.
His father arrived ho, hesitating at the sight of his son’s tear-streaked face.
"Papa… my bird died."
His father’s stare was devoid of warmth.
"Birds are useless."
Chase stopped breathing.
His father never understood.
No one did.
"I’ll buy you another one."
That was all.
And Chase realized then—
He was alone.
Chase's eyes fluttered open.
His breath hitched.
Where—?
He was still slumped in the back seat.
Everything was… quiet.
Too quiet.
Then—
A familiar scent.
Cigarette smoke.
Soone was outside.
Chase turned, looking through the shattered window.
Josh stood a few steps away, smoking.
The dim light outlined his broad, battered fra.
Chase’s lips parted.
Josh turned, their eyes eting.
He smiled.
"Did you sleep well?"
And Chase—
Didn’t know why his heart was racing.
Josh’s lips curled into a smirk, his voice carrying the sa lazy ease as always.
Chase stiffened.
What was wrong with him?
Why was he just standing there, staring?
Josh’s face was a ss—his shirt was torn, his body was covered in dirt and dried blood, and the wound on his arm, where the coyote had bitten him, was still visible.
It should have been horrifying.
But Chase found himself unable to look away.
For so reason, he wasn’t annoyed. He wasn’t irritated.
He felt—sothing else.
Josh took another slow drag from his cigarette.
Chase's eyes followed the motion, watching as he exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the cold air.
"Borrowed one of yours. Hope you don’t mind."
His voice was smooth, casual.
Like they weren’t in the middle of nowhere.
Like he hadn’t nearly gotten ripped apart by a pack of wild animals.
Like it was just another regular night.
Chase clenched his fists.
It was infuriating.
"You said you quit."
Josh tilted his head, smiling slightly.
"Mm. Well. Nicotine constricts blood vessels. Helps slow the bleeding."
Chase narrowed his eyes.
Josh exhaled another cloud of smoke and added lightly,
"Figured I might as well put it to good use."
Chase didn’t know why that made his stomach twist.
He shouldn’t care.
But before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
"Your face. It’s injured."
Josh blinked.
Then, he grinned.
"Yeah?"
He raised a brow, as if Chase had just pointed out sothing completely irrelevant.
Chase scowled.
"That’s it?"
Josh shrugged.
"Part of the job."
Sothing in Chase snapped.
He didn’t know why.
Maybe it was because Josh was acting like this was normal.
Like getting torn up was just another Tuesday.
Like he didn’t even care.
Like—
Like it wasn’t a big deal that he had nearly died.
Josh must have noticed sothing in his expression because he suddenly chuckled.
It wasn’t mocking, nor was it indifferent.
It was just… natural.
Easy.
Like he really wasn’t fazed at all.
Chase didn’t understand.
He didn't understand any of this.
But before he could say anything, Josh leaned forward.
Still holding his cigarette in one hand, he placed the other against the car’s roof, lowering his face until they were at eye level.
The scent of smoke, blood, and sothing undeniably him filled Chase’s senses.
"Hey, Miller."
His voice was smooth.
A little too smooth.
Chase swallowed.
Josh tilted his head slightly, watching his reaction.
Then, his lips quirked into a slow, almost lazy smile.
"Can I kiss you?"
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