The Archer and The Airship » 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕕 «

Chapter Sixty Three

63. Shed Your Skin

'i broke what you gave me,
but you kept giving more.
and i'm sorry for taking,
but i keep wanting more.'
-mitski

⤐

Thomas Elliot never claimed to be the sharpest tool in any given shed, but if there was one thing he knew his way around, it was beautiful women. He knew what made them laugh, what made them cry, what made them beg. And he'd used that to his advantage, ten times over. He'd also never claimed to be an honorable man.

So when this particularly beautiful woman burst through the trailer door, her eyes wild and blood hot, he'd already begun racking his brain for the right words she'd want to hear. The moment she opened her mouth, however, all sense of time and thought just... stopped.

  "Where is she?" The striking woman snapped out as she crossed the threshold with entirely too much elegance for someone who radiated honed weapon. She closed the distance between them like a blade slipping through silk and cut her hard, watchful gaze to where Tommy sat next to his sister on the flimsy sofa. She spared them only a glance before deciding they weren't interesting enough to hold her attention. Something about that tugged at his chest.

  Sasha, their gracious host, was across from them at the table, her arms folded over each other as she leaned back into the chair. "We have company," she spoke softly and tilted her chin to the blonde twins. "Veronica sent them."

Tommy didn't miss the tremble in Sasha's voice or the way the other woman's hands tightened into fists at her sides at the sound of that name. His sister didn't seem to notice—her eyes were nearly glazed over as her gaze lingered on the buttery apple pie resting on the table, on the tendrils of steam still wafting in the air, replacing the tinge of death that always seemed to be stuck in their nostrils. No, she couldn't focus on anything else but that small comfort. But Tommy? He noticed everything.

It was an excellent skill to have before the world imploded—he'd been in sales, and the best way to push your commission cap to its limits is to read who will buy and who will fly. After the beginning of the end, it proved to be even more helpful, and he could gauge tensions and relationships within seconds. Though he wasn't perfect every time... Rico and Joel proved that. He shifted in his seat, imperceptible to the women surrounding him, and blinked the memory of walking into that bedroom away.

He decided he'd let that drop of tension dissipate for now, far too grateful to be sitting on a warm couch with the smell of apple pie curling around him to bother with it, and he zeroed back in on the black-haired beauty sucking up all the air in the tiny room.

  Feeling the shift in his focus, dark, depthless eyes slid to him just as another new face bounded through the door, her chestnut hair streaming in thin waves behind her. "Did you guys hear—"