“I told you he didn’t hurt me.”
Viper says nothing.
Just stands there, fists clenched, jaw locked, like the idea alone is still fighting for space inside him.
I drop to the edge of the bed, every limb heavy. “He’s a decent man. Has a little girl. Never looked at me sideways.”
“He looked at you.”
I huff out a breath. “You can’t beat the hell out of everyone who looks at me.”
“I can try.”
His voice is flat. Steady.
And it should scare me.
It doesn’t.
My gaze drifts to the suitcase. “I was leaving this town anyway. I just hadn’t packed yet. Clothes are folded. I didn’t think I’d have to run again.”
The last line is for me more than him.
He doesn’t say anything. Just kneels beside the suitcase, unzips it, and starts loading in the clothes like he’s done this before. Like it’s easier to focus on this than the fire still smoldering under his skin.
Every movement is measured. Methodical.
Too careful.
“You’re coming with me,” he says.
I blink. “What?”
He doesn’t pause. “I’ve got space for the luggage. Custom mount behind the seat.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
He zips it shut. Stands. His eyes meet mine. Calm, clear, completely unshaken.
“You’re not staying here.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You don’t have to. You just need somewhere safe.”
I hesitate. “That’s the thing. I don’t know if Iamsafe with you.”
Something flickers across his face then. Quiet. Sharp.
“You are.”
The words land heavy. Certain. Like a promise.
“I’ll put you in a cabin. It’s mine. I’ll stay at the clubhouse.”
That softens something inside me.
Not all the way.
