LOLITA.
xxvi. | ❝ don't panic. ❞

✧

AFTER THE EVENTS of that day, thoughts of what had happened to the prison dwindled in Shane and Cassandra's minds like fading embers.

Roughly a month had passed before the pair were forced to come to terms with what lay outside the confines of their sanctuary. They had forgotten just how dangerous this new world was; too wrapped up in each other acknowledge the fact that both the dead and the living were out for their blood.

***

From outside the bedroom that Shane and Cassandra now shared, panting and moaning could be heard - interrupted only by Shane's low, Southern intonations and Cassie's saccharine giggle. The air was humid with intimacy; skin on skin, beads of sweat, and hungry lips.

This had now become standard morning (and night-time) routine.

Cassandra rolled astride her dashing deputy, her soft mouth curved into a mischievous grin as his eyes seemed to gleam black with lust. His large hands sprung to her waist, guiding her every movement, until the pair heard a crash downstairs followed by muffled voices.

They froze.

"What was that?"

"Shhh." Shane deftly manoeuvred Cassandra onto the mattress beside him and slipped out of bed, dragging on his boxers and grabbing his gun. "Stay here, I'm just gonna go check it out."

His eyes were keen, like a shark's, as he moved out of the bedroom and along the upstairs corridor stealthily. He crouched by the bannister at the top of the stairs, gun raised, and listened to what he determined as male voices in the living room.

"Yeah, there's a fuck-tonne. Nobody here."

"You checked upstairs?"

"Nah."

"Jesus, do I have to do everything 'round here?"

Shane cursed under his breath. Aside from the two voices in the living room, he could hear cupboards being thrown open and slammed shut along with raucous laughter coming from the kitchen.

He guessed that there were at least six men traipsing around the ground floor of his home.

Remembering what happened with Dave and Tony, he did not want to risk them seeing Cassandra, or Cassandra seeing them. Shane had dealt with enough rape cases while he was in the police to know how the mere presence of a man could trigger a victim of sexual assault.

The sharp-eyed deputy crept along the corridor and retreated into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him and turning the small, old-fashioned key in the lock.

"Right," he began lowly, raking a hand through his curls. "Don't panic, but-"

"Why? What's going on?"

"There's a group of guys down there. Six or seven of 'em."

"What?!"

"Shhh! You gotta be quiet," Shane hissed. He stepped towards Cassandra and rested his hands at her hips, looking down into her wild eyes. "Baby girl... I promise I'll keep you safe. But you gotta listen. I don't know if we can risk taking them on and I don't wanna see you hurt." He paused. "They think the house is empty. They ain't done a search up here but they will soon. We don't got much time."

Cassandra sprang away, gathering the rumpled clothes she had been wearing the night before from the floor and pulling them onto her trembling white frame. Shane did the same, before retrieving a backpack from the wardrobe and stuffing it with spare items of clothing - including a few oversized shirts of his that Cassandra could borrow. Weapons promptly followed.

The sound of biker boots could be heard thudding up the stairs heavily. Shane was at Cassandra's side in a heartbeat, his lips pressed into his hair as he whispered, "You ready?"

She nodded fretfully, and Shane patted his trouser pocket, his car keys jangling. He then moved over to the window and flicked the catch, watching as the casement creaked open and juddered.

"We gonna climb onto the roof of the porch down there, jump down, then make a run for the car. Okay?"

"Okay."

Shane paused, studying her intently. "I love you," he said.

The redhead's big brown eyes swivelled towards him and she reached for his hand, giving it a quick squeeze, before withdrawing with a wan smile. Her terror was palpable. "I love you too."

⠀༚⠀⠀༷⠀⠀ྃ