Chapter 3

Clara raised her trembling fist. Her knuckles hovered just an inch away from the rough, splintered wood of the heavy front door.

She closed her eyes tightly. She bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted the sharp, metallic tang of copper again. She knocked three times.

The hollow sound echoed loudly in the quiet clearing. It was followed immediately by a heavy, suffocating silence that made her skin crawl.

Clara waited for ten agonizing seconds. Her grip on the canvas duffel bag strap tightened until her knuckles turned completely white.

Just as she raised her hand to knock a second time, the heavy brass deadbolt clicked loudly from the inside.

The door swung open with a low, ominous creak. It revealed a massive wall of solid muscle framed by the dim interior light of the cabin.

Clara gasped. She took a reflexive step backward in pure shock, her heel catching dangerously on the uneven edge of the porch step.

A large, calloused hand shot out with terrifying speed. Long, strong fingers gripped her upper arm effortlessly, stopping her from falling backward off the porch.

Clara looked up. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as she finally saw the face of the rumored monster.

Instead of a completely unblemished face, she saw a man whose features were severely marred by a horrifying, jagged burn scar. The thick, angry tissue covered the entire left side of his face, pulling the corner of his mouth and his left eye downward into a permanent, grotesque sneer. His left eye was completely milky white and blind, covered partially by the twisted skin, while his right eye was a piercing, dark orb that held no warmth. He leaned heavily on his right leg, a noticeable, severe limp evident even as he stood still, projecting a rugged, overwhelmingly intimidating aura.

Harrison Beaumont stared down at her. His expression was completely blank. His grip on her arm was incredibly firm, but surprisingly not painful.

Harrison released her arm abruptly. He took a half-step back into the dark shadows of the doorway and crossed his thick arms over his chest.

Clara struggled to find her voice. Her throat felt completely dry. The carefully rehearsed speech she had prepared evaporated instantly under his intense, predatory gaze.

Harrison tilted his head slightly. His deep, gravelly voice broke the silence, vibrating in the cold air as he demanded to know what she wanted.

Clara stammered. Her voice came out as barely a whisper. She introduced herself as Clara Hayes, the woman Walter Kowalski had sent.

Harrison's brow furrowed in immediate annoyance. A flash of recognition, followed instantly by profound distaste, crossed the unmarred side of his face, sharpening his gaze to a deadly edge.

He bluntly stated he did not ask for a wife. His tone was flat, dead, and colder than the freezing night air surrounding them.

Clara panicked. She stepped closer to the door, closing the distance. She pleaded with him, her voice cracking, explaining that she had nowhere else to go and absolutely could not return home.

Harrison looked her up and down. His dark eyes lingered on her cheap, worn-out jacket and the pathetic, muddy duffel bag resting against her leg.

He scoffed softly. He told her that her family problems were not his concern. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around the brass door handle.

Clara dropped her bag onto the wooden porch. Her desperation completely overrode her fear. She blurted out a frantic offer to cook, clean, and do any manual labor he needed.

Harrison paused. His hand remained on the brass knob. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he studied her pale, desperate, tear-stained face.

He stepped fully into the porch light. The illumination highlighted the gruesome texture of the burn scar near his left temple. It was a terrifying, undeniable flaw that perfectly matched the town's horrific rumors of him being a broken, disfigured beast.

Harrison leaned down slightly. He invaded her personal space, his imposing height and broad shoulders casting a heavy shadow over her small frame.

He told her in a low, dangerous whisper that this cabin was no place for a little girl. He tried to intimidate her into turning around and running away.

Clara held her ground. Her body was shaking visibly from the cold and fear, but she maintained direct eye contact. She refused to back down.

Harrison sighed heavily. He ran a large hand through his thick, dark hair, looking visibly frustrated by her irrational stubbornness.

He pointed a long, calloused finger toward the dark dirt path. He ordered her to turn around and walk back to town before she froze to death.

Clara shook her head violently. Hot tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. She declared loudly that she would freeze out here on his porch before she ever went back to Walter.

Harrison stared at her tear-filled eyes for a long, heavy moment. The thick muscles in his jaw clenched tight. Without another word, he began to push the heavy door closed.