Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“You’re not figuring anything out alone.”
“I’ve been alone this whole time,” I shoot back.
“And how’s that working for you?”
I grit my teeth. “Better than being ordered around like—”
“Like what?” he presses.
“Like I can’t think for myself.”
He studies me for a second. Then nods once. “Fine.”
The word surprises me. I blink. “Fine?”
“You think for yourself,” he says. “You decide to walk out that door alone—” he gestures behind me, “—you won’t make it ten minutes before whoever’s out there gets what he came for.”
My stomach drops. “That’s not—”
“It is,” he cuts in. “You’re already compromised.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means he knows your patterns,” Ethan says. “Knows where you stay. Knows when you’re alone.”
My fingers tighten. “That doesn’t mean I need you controlling every move I make.”
“It means you need someone who knows how to hunt him.”
The silence is heavy because that’s what this is.
A hunt.
And somehow, I’m in the middle of it.
“You don’t trust me,” I say.
His mouth curves slightly. “No.”
I huff out a breath. “Good. Because I don’t trust you either.”
“Smart.”
“Then why am I here?”
He watches me for a second.
Long enough that my skin starts to feel too tight.
“Because you knew I’d be better than your other options,” he says finally.
I hate that he’s right.
Again.
“I don’t like this,” I admit.
His gaze sharpens. “You’re not supposed to.”
I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. “So what, I just—stay here? Do what you say? Wait for you to fix it?”
“For now? Yeah.”
I shake my head. “That’s not happening.”
His brow lifts. “No?”
“No.”
I step forward this time, closing the distance, pushing back into his space. “I don’t take orders,” I say. “I don’t sit around and wait. And I sure as hell don’t let some man I just met decide what I can and can’t do.”
The corner of his mouth lifts again, amused. Like he likes the fight.
“Good,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips. “What?”
“I’d be bored if you did.”
Before I can respond, his hand lifts.
He doesn’t touch me.
But it’s close.
Too close.
My breath catches anyway.
“You don’t like being told what to do,” he says, voice low. “Then don’t make me tell you twice.”
My pulse spikes. “That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s a promise.”
God.
This man.
I drag in a breath, trying to steady myself. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re still here.”
I hate that he keeps saying that.
Because it’s true.
Because I haven’t left.
Because something in me—
Despite everything—
Doesn’t want to.
“Fine,” I say finally. “Your rules. For now.”
His gaze flickers. Interest. Approval. Possession.
It sends heat crawling up my spine.
“Say it again,” he says.
My eyes narrow. “Excuse me?”
“Say it again,” he repeats. “So we’re clear.”
I stare at him. God, I want to fight him on this. Push back harder. Walk out just to prove I can. But the image of that photograph flashes in my mind.
The feeling of being watched.
Of not being alone.
“Your rules,” I say, slower this time. “For now.”
Silence stretches between us.
Then he nods once. “Good.”
And just like that, something shifts.
Not softer. Not easier. But settled. Defined.
The lines are drawn.
The power sits between us, sharp and undeniable.
And for the first time since I got here—I know exactly where I stand.
Right in the middle of something I’m not sure I can walk away from.
Chapter 6
Ethan
She doesn’t sit, doesn’t relax, doesn’t even pretend to. Maddie stays planted in the middle of my cabin like she’s ready to bolt at any second, her arms locked tight over her chest, her gaze moving constantly as she tracks every exit point, every shadow, every shift in the room. The windows. The door. The corners. Me. Mostly me.
I lean back against the counter and take my time watching her in return, letting the silence stretch just long enough to get under her skin.
“You always stare like that?” she asks, her voice edged but steady.
“Only when something’s worth watching.”
Her mouth tightens, but there’s heat there now, something sharper than irritation. Not just anger. Good. That means she’s settling in enough to feel something besides fear.
“You done assessing me?” she mutters.
“Not even close.”
That earns me a glare, sharp and defiant, but it doesn’t stop her eyes from drifting back to me again like she can’t quite help herself.
“Cabin’s small,” she says after a second, like the realization just hit her.
“It is.”
Her gaze shifts toward the bed, then back to me, slow and deliberate this time, like she’s choosing every movement.
“Where am I sleeping?”
I push off the counter and step closer, not all the way, just enough to feel the subtle shift in her breathing.
“Bed’s yours.”
Her brows lift. “And you?”
“Couch.”
She glances at it, taking in the size, the reality of it, then looks back at me with a hint of disbelief.
“You don’t look like you fit on that.”
“I make it work.”
She lets out a quiet breath, something between a scoff and a reluctant acceptance. “Right.”
I move past her, grab a log, and toss it into the fireplace. Sparks jump as the flames catch, heat filling the cabin quickly, chasing out the chill that’s been hanging in the air. She turns with me, watching every movement like she’s cataloging it.