Like Rapunzel, but Not Really ✔

Chapter 17

As we walked down the street paved with fallen leaves from Hunter's car, I could not help but smile at the sight of Tristan's back, who was walking a few steps of me.

He cares about me.

He cares.

About me.

Why does it affect me like this?

The crunching of the leaves beneath my feet made for a nice symphony which filled up the comfortable silence between us. I was a little lost in my thoughts and the noise we made during our walk that it took me a little by surprise when he stopped abruptly.

"We're here," he announced as we arrived in front of the house with the number 30 plated onto the door.

We got to what we assumed to Zeke's/James Lindon's/I-don't-even-know-anymore evil lair in less than an hour, thanks to the non-existent traffic at 6 a.m. The house was, surprisingly, very homey from the outside, a completely deceiving look for the abomination which it housed. The terraced townhouses along the street were a stretch of identical brick-red clay hue. The house we were trying to break into was as unassuming as a green leaf on a fully-bloomed tree.

I walked up the steps leading to the front door, which was a bright green wood. "Are you going to pick the lock?" I asked Tristan, who, in turn, smiled at me in amusement.

"I'm starting to think you see me more and more as a criminal the longer I spend time with you."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I think it's ironic that you are saying this considering how you are literally taking out picks to unlock the door as I speak." I eyed the two black picks that he had fished out from his gloves and smirked. "You use them often?"

"Well, I really don't think this is the time to be flirting, if anybody cares about what I think," Hunter cut us off sourly before Tristan could reply.

I had momentarily forgotten that he, too, had tagged along.

"I'm not flirting!" God, Hunter. He needed to get his visions and hearing checked. "But you're right. Tristan, open the door."

Tristan, who was in the midst of inserting the picks into the keyhole, suddenly paused. "It's already open." He blinked, a hint of surprise was present in his voice.

"That was fast," Hunter remarked, impressed by his handiness.

But Tristan shook his head. "No, I mean, it was never locked." He twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. The creak the door produced was like a nail-on-blackboard screech to my eardrums. With the door swung open wide, we were greeted by dead silence. 

Tristan was the first one to step into the house, with Hunter and I following suit. The foyer had stairs leading up to the second floor and three separate doors, one of them an open archway leading to the living area.

"Wait, you're sure nobody's in the house, right?" I whispered with uncertainty. My heartbeat had started racing. I had never broken into any house before so this was virgin territory for me.

Tristan nodded. "We've ran the footages. No one's been in here for ages."

"Okay." I trusted him.

"So what's the plan? Do we split up? Hunter whispered to us.

I frowned at my cousin. Was he ill? "Hunter, you were literally in a horror movie last year and died because you suggested to split up and cover more ground faster."

Hunter scoffed in my direction. "That was a movie, okay. It doesn't apply to real life."

"Actually, no. It's better that we stick together. There's strength in numbers," Tristan supported my stance, thereby overriding Hunter's. I smiled smugly at the blonde next to me who just rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "This is why you don't work with couples."