Kings of Decay (The Winston Brothers Duet #1)

1. Willow

Chapter one

Willow

G rayling Pass, Alaska. A two-hour drive north of Fairbanks but faster by plane.

This was where the last shreds of my happiness came to die.

The truck tires crunched through the freshly fallen snow, echoing in the stillness as we passed the weather-beaten sign welcoming us. The faded green paint barely clung to the metal, and the population count listed was a few hundred. Fewer people than those who lived on my block back in Oregon.

I saw the town appearing in the distance. A thick fog obscured it, muting its colors and softening the edges of the buildings. Sparse streetlights cast hazy halos, barely illuminating the snow-packed streets. The silhouettes of wooden houses emerged from the mist, their chimneys exhaling plumes of smoke that dissipated into the grayness.

We finally rolled to a stop after what felt like an eternity on the road. Our new home was on the edge of town. The truck door creaked open, releasing a blast of frigid air that sent shivers down my spine.

I stepped out onto the packed snow, my boots crunching on the frozen ground. Around me, the landscape stretched out like a frozen tundra, a vast expanse of white punctuated by the dark silhouettes of snow-laden pine trees. The biting wind whipped at my face, a raw, unrelenting force that seeped through the layers of my scarf and burrowed into my bones. I hugged my arms tighter around myself, wishing I hadn't underestimated the Alaskan chill.

This was it— my new home. Grayling Pass. A remote mining town so far removed from my past that it might as well have been another planet.

As I took in my surroundings, I couldn't help but feel a pang of loss for the life I left behind. The pain of losing my mother surged through me, as fresh and hot as ever. Grief was my only companion now, a dull ache that settled deep in my chest.

Grief. It was the reason I was here, in this desolate wasteland, a place my father believed would offer us a fresh start. A chance to escape the painful reminders and rebuild our lives.

I glanced at him, his figure outlined against the snowy backdrop, as he unloaded our luggage from the trunk. His shoulders were hunched against the cold, his face a mask of stoicism. He had always been a man of few words, but the loss of Mom had turned him into a silent shadow, a ghost of the father I once knew.

I took a deep breath, the frigid air stinging my lungs.

“This is it,” Dad said.

I turned to look at our new home. The cabin's wood siding was faded and peeling, its red paint barely clinging on. Although it was only September, a thick blanket of snow covered the roof, softening its sharp edges. The front porch sagged slightly, its steps creaking under the snow's weight. It was unremarkable, just like every other building on the outskirts of the town.

I exhaled slowly, a cloud of condensation forming in front of me. "It's... cute," I managed, trying to sound optimistic.

A flicker of something resembling hope passed over my dad's face.

"It'll be home," he replied, his voice gruff but filled with an undercurrent of determination. He pulled out the last of our suitcases and slammed the trunk closed. The rest of our belongings were in storage back home.

We made our way to the front door, Dad fumbling with the keys in his gloved hands. The door finally gave way with a groan, revealing a dimly lit interior.

"Well, let's get started," Dad said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He walked past me, his heavy boots thudding on the wooden floor.

I hesitated momentarily, taking in the sight of our new home.

The interior was dim, the only light coming from the few windows and a flickering overhead bulb. The air was stale and cold, with a musty scent. A wood-burning stove sat in the corner, its ashes cold and lifeless. The walls were bare, and the furniture was mismatched and worn. The kitchen was small and basic, with a chipped sink and an ancient refrigerator humming softly. Closed doors lead off from the living room, presumably the two bedrooms and a bathroom.

Snow dripped from my suitcases as I rolled them inside and shut the door.

My dad immediately moved to the woodstove to get a fire going. The inside of the cabin felt almost as cold as the outside.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just stood and watched him as the fire roared to life. The instant heat reminds me of our family vacations in southern California and takes away the grief for a brief second.

Dad looked over his shoulder at me and forced something that resembled a smile. It’s the best he can do these days. “You ok, Willow?” he asked.

The sound of my name snapped me out of the swirling thoughts. “Yeah,” I lied. “I’m going to unpack.”

Dad nodded. “Let me know when you want dinner. I don’t think there’s pizza delivery in this town, but maybe we can scrounge something up.”

I doubted that Grayling Pass had any of the take-out comfort food that I’m used to, but I appreciated the effort.

With a trail of melted snow behind me, I retreated into one of the bedrooms. The furniture included in the rental was just as shabby and old as the rest of the cabin. There’s a double bed, a dresser, and a beat-up Ikea desk in the corner. One of the closet doors hung at a slight angle, and the window trembled as a gust of wind kicked up a flurry of snow against the glass.

I flicked on the light that flashed a few times before coming to life. “At least there’s electricity,” I groaned.

When I first saw the cabin, I’d doubted that the place would have a single outlet, but it seemed that the ad wasn’t lying when it said that the cabin was decked out with satellite internet and electricity. I would need every ounce of wifi I could get if I were going to stay sane and keep up with my remote classes.

I unzipped both of my suitcases. It didn’t take long to unpack the minimal belongings that I brought, but my hands hesitated when I came to a metal picture frame wrapped in my clothes. I flipped it over, and my eyes met those of my mother.

I looked a lot like her, or so people said. She had creamy mocha skin, long curly hair, and hazel eyes that looked more green in the sunlight. The only thing I got from my dad was his height.

I set the frame down carefully and plunked down on the bed. The springs squeaked and popped back with a boing under my body.

As soon as I closed my eyes, sleep wrapped around me and pulled me into darkness.