An Excerpt from Haven Hill Here’s where the story left off last time. Kate stepped out of the treeline with her pistol raised, breath coming fast and tight. Haven Hill shimmered through the thinning fog like a beacon. For one dizzy moment, she felt relief—home, safety, her little girl. Quickly, quietly, she raced to the porch. But then she stopped short, feet slipping in the wet gravel. Her stomach turned to stone. Bootprints. Big ones, far too big to be hers or Ariel’s. They were fresh enough that the mud still glistened wetly. The prints climbed the steps one by one, tracking straight toward the old teal-painted rocking chair that sat in the corner of the porch by the great-room window. Kate’s pulse roared in her ears. The chair wasn’t how she’d left it. It wasn’t looking out toward the wooded view she loved so much. It was angled slightly toward the glass—toward inside the cabin, where Ariel would have been moving… reading… breathing. She stepped closer. Saw something on the porch boards. A cigarette butt. Then another. And then she saw the third—still slightly smoking, a thin wisp curling upward like a taunt. The acrid smell hit her nose: fresh, sharp, unmistakably Logan. He had just been here. Minutes ago. Maybe seconds. He had watched her daughter through the glass. He’d watched for a while—long enough to smoke three cigarettes to the filter. And he hadn’t come empty-handed. Her throat closed. Air rasped shallowly in her chest. One of her perimeter bells—cut free, the fishing line still tied to its loop—was sitting neatly on the railing beside the last cigarette butt. Placed like a gift. Or a warning. Or a taunt. He hadn’t just crossed their traps. He’d dismantled them. And left a piece on display so she’d know exactly how easily he’d done it. Kate felt the forest press in behind her, cold and enormous. “Hold on, baby,” she whispered. “Mama’s coming.” Then she reached for the doorknob. To her relief, it was still locked tight. She knocked loudly, twice. “Ariel!” She had given the signal. She strained to hear movement from inside. It was quiet. There was nothing but stillness inside the cabin. She knocked again and called her daughter’s name. Her heart began to pound so loudly that she couldn’t hear if there was movement in the house or not. Finally, she heard that precious voice, tenuous but still there. “Mom?” “It’s me, baby. Let me in.” She lifted her Glock with both hands and turned her back toward the door, sweeping the yard while Ariel pushed the heavy armoire out of the way and unlocked it. Her heart began hammering again as a single, shattering truth locked into place: He could have taken Ariel. He could have killed her. But he didn’t. In his twisted mind, she realized, he wanted her to feel chosen. He wanted her to feel grateful to him. The door opened just wide enough to let Kate in. Ariel peeked through the opening, her dark eyes wide in her pale face. Kate squeezed through, eyes burning. The familiar smell of woodsmoke, coffee, and Ariel’s shampoo hit her all at once. It should have soothed her. It nearly brought her to her knees. Ariel shoved the door shut the second her mother was clear, flipping the locks with shaking fingers. The heavy armoire scraped back into place with a dull grind as they both leaned their weight into it. For a moment, they just stood there, breathing hard, the way people do when they’ve outrun something they can’t see. Then Kate grabbed her. She pulled Ariel into her arms so hard the girl gave a soft “oof,” then clung back just as tightly. For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Kate buried her face in her daughter’s hair, breathing in soap and fear and cold sweat. “Are you okay?” Kate managed finally, pulling back enough to check her face, her hands, her arms. “Did you see him?” Ariel shook her head, curls bouncing. Her eyes were huge and dark. “No. I didn’t see anybody. I heard the bells a couple of times, and a can… I thought it was the wind. I stayed behind the fridge just like you said. I swear, Mom, I didn’t open the door for anyone.” “I know,” Kate said immediately. “You did perfectly. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.” She tried to keep her voice level, but it came out rough, frayed around the edges. Ariel’s gaze searched her face. “You saw something out there, didn’t you?” Kate hesitated. She thought of the rocking chair turned toward the glass, the bootprints, the smoldering cigarette, the bell laid out like a little shrine. She wanted to lie, to make Ariel feel safe. But she couldn’t. “He was on the porch,” Kate said quietly. “Sat in the rocking chair. Smoked a few cigarettes. Took one of our bells and left it out there for me to find.” She swallowed. “He was watching through the front window while I was gone.” Ariel’s shoulders crept up toward her ears. “But…the curtains were closed. And I stayed behind the fridge!” “Curtains don’t matter if he can see your shadow moving,” Kate replied. “Listen to me—” She caught Ariel’s face gently in both hands. “You did everything right. This is on me, not you. I shouldn’t have gone off alone.” Something in Ariel’s expression loosened. “Did you…were you able to track him?” Kate shook her head. “I found signs, but he’s playing games. Circling. Leaving little…breadcrumbs.” She huffed out a humorless laugh. “Hansel and Gretel with a nicotine addiction.” Ariel glanced toward the front window, as if she could see the purple rocking chair through the wall. “Is he still out there close?” “I don’t know,” Kate replied honestly. “The cigarette was still warm, but the prints were already starting to dry at the edges. He was here…then he left. He wanted me to know I missed him by a hair.” Ariel wrapped her arms around her middle. “He could have—” She stopped, throat working. “I know.” The words tasted like metal. “He could have. But he didn’t.” They stood beside the barricaded door while the cabin ticked around them—the soft pop from the stove, a faint creak from the rafters above. Finally, Kate moved to the window beside the door. She stayed to one side, flattening herself against the wall, and eased the curtain back with two fingers just enough to see the corner of the porch. The rocking chair rocked slightly in the breeze, empty now. The bell and cigarette butts still sat on the railing like a tiny, evil still life. She let the curtain fall. “Okay,” she said, turning back. “Here’s what we’re going to do. No more running off alone. No more playing hunter.” “Then what?” Ariel whispered. “We rest,” Kate said. “We eat. We keep the fire low and the doors locked, and we stay away from the windows. He likes to play games.” Her jaw tightened. “If he comes back, it’ll be because he thinks we’re scared and tired.” “Aren’t we?” Ariel asked. Kate gave a short laugh that was almost a sob. “Oh, absolutely. But he doesn’t get to see that part.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Show me your setup.” Ariel led her around the table to the corner behind the refrigerator. The little nest made Kate’s throat go tight: the pillow, the afghan, the battered copy of The Secret Garden lying open and face-down, its spine cracked from years of reading. “A bulletproof pillow fort,” Ariel said weakly, attempting a smile. “It’s perfect,” Kate said, meaning it. “You picked the best cover in the house.” She crouched there for a second, seeing the kitchen from Ariel’s height—the slice of the front door visible through the gap, the angle that gave a partial view of the living room without exposing her body. She did everything right, Kate thought again. Every single thing. And he still—still—almost had her. The thought made something hot flare up behind her eyes. Rage, this time, not fear. She stood and ruffled Ariel’s hair. “Go sit on the couch where I can see you. I’m going to heat up some soup, and then we’ll talk about our next move.” Ariel hesitated. “Is there one…a next move?” “Oh, there’s a next move, all right,” Kate said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “He wants to rattle us. Make us feel helpless.” She glanced toward the front porch where the ghost of his bootprints lingered in her mind. “We’re going to let him believe he succeeded. For a little while.” “And then?” Ariel asked. “And then,” Kate said, reaching for a pot, “we’re going to make very sure he regrets not finishing what he started today.” She popped open a jar of homemade chili. Soon, the air was redolent with the scent of beef and spices. Outside, the bells on the lines gave small, nervous jingles in the wind. Things seemed almost normal, if you didn’t know what had just happened to that rocking chair. Kate got the crackers from the kitchen pantry and put them on the table to have with the chili. She got out two colorful bowls and a funny little silver sugar spoon that Ariel insisted was her “chili spoon.” Ariel pulled out a sleeve of saltines and opened them, only to pull too hard and have them fly all over the table. Her eyes filled with tears that Kate pretended not to see. “You don’t know your own strength,” she teased lightly. “Have you been secretly lifting weights in the middle of the night?” Ariel sniffed and forced a crooked smile. “Midnight powerlifting. Very exclusive program.” For a little while, they would pretend that everything was okay. Don’t want to wait two weeks to find out what happens? Buy the complete book HERE. There are 10 more chapters and an epilogue! About Daisy Daisy Luther is a coffee-swigging author and blogger who’s traded her air miles for a screen porch, having embraced a more homebody lifestyle after a serious injury. She’s the heart and mind behind The Organic Prepper, a top-tier website where she shares what she’s learned about preparedness, self-reliance, and the pursuit of liberty. With 17 books under her belt, Daisy’s insights on living frugally, surviving tough times, finding some happiness in the most difficult situations, and embracing independence have touched many lives. Her work doesn’t just stay on her site; it’s shared far and wide across alternative media, making her a familiar voice in the community. Known for her adventurous spirit, she’s lived in five different countries and raised two wonderful daughters as a single mom. Now living in the beautiful state of North Carolina, Daisy has been spreading her knowledge through blogging for 15 years now.  She is the best-selling author of 5 traditionally published books, 12 self-published books, and runs a small digital publishing company with PDF guides, printables, and courses at SelfRelianceand Survival.com You can find her on Facebook, Pinterest, and X. The post Haven Hill: Chapter 29 appeared first on The Organic Prepper.