The thought sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with injury.
Stop it. He saved your life. He’s being kind. Don’t make this weird.
But my body doesn’t care about logic. It only knows warmth and safety and the visceral pull of attraction that seems wildly at odds with nearly dying in a fiery crash.
I try to distract myself. Count trees. Identify bird calls. Mentally catalog the footage I lost and what I’ll need to recreate.
None of it works.
The rhythm of his stride lulls me. His heat seeps deeper, making me drowsy in a way that feels almost like magic. Not just warmth—something that reaches past my skin into muscle and bone, easing tension that had settled between my shoulder blades.
My eyes drift closed.
“You should rest,” K says quietly. “We have distance yet to cover.”
I want to protest. To stay alert and helpful instead of being dead weight in his arms.
But his heartbeat drums steady beneath my ear. His warmth wraps around me like a shield. And somehow, I feel safe.
The thought should terrify me. I barely know this man. He doesn’t even know himself.
But wrapped in his arms, carried through mountain wilderness by someone who pulled me from fire and asked nothing in return, I can’t summon the fear I should feel.
I drift, lulled by rhythm and heat, until K stops abruptly.
“There,” he says quietly.
I force my eyes open, blinking against sudden brightness.
Below us, the valley spreads out in shades of gray and green. And there, near the base of the slope, spilling over the mouth of what looks like a chasm—
The crash site.
My blood turns to ice.
Not because of the wreckage, twisted metal still visible among scorched trees.
Because of the people swarming over it.
Tactical gear. Precise movements. Armed.
Not rescue crews. Not civilian recovery teams.
Syndicate.
K shifts his weight, angling for a better view. “They can help—”
“No!” I grab his arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “Not them. K, not them.”
He freezes, looking down at me. Reading the terror in my face.
“You know these people?”
I can’t answer. How do I explain that those aren’t rescuers, they’re hunters? That they’re connected to a world I’ve sworn to hide from the public eye? That getting close to them would put both of us in danger I can’t even name?
“They’re dangerous,” I manage, my voice cracking. “K, please. We need to hide.”
For one horrible second, I think he’ll demand answers. Press for details I can’t give.
