He watches me with a stillness that makes my pulse race faster, his eyes tracking every small movement I make. His jaw is set in that way that tells me he's already decided, and nothing I say will change his mind. “This is not something that can be debated.”
“It involves my life.” I push back, unable to contain the rising panic inside me. The emotion surges upward, pressing against my throat until speaking becomes difficult. I stand from the bed too quickly, and the room tilts again, spinning before it settles. My legs feel unsteady beneath me, my muscles trembling from more than just the sudden movement. “You can’t keep uprooting everything every time you decide I'm in danger.”
His back teeth lock, the muscle in his jaw pulsing beneath his skin. His shoulders tense, pulling back in a way that makes him seem even larger in the small space. “This is not about what you want, Sage. This is about keeping you alive.”
I wrap my arms around myself because my hands won't stop trembling, the shaking traveling up my forearms and into my shoulders. The space between us feels too exposed, as if the bright afternoon light is peeling back every fear and secret I've been trying to hide.
“You think dragging me across the country is the answer?” My heart thumps hard against my ribs, almost painful now, each beat reverberating through my entire body. I can feel my pulse in my fingertips where they dig into my arms. “You think Seattle is magically safer just because you're familiar with it?”
“I know exactly how secure my estate is,” he replies, his voice dropping lower but remaining unyielding. He steps closer, closing the distance between us until I can smell the cold mountain air still clinging to his coat. “I know every exit, every blind spot, and every barrier. I know every man who works the perimeter, every safe room, vault, and security system. I know what I can control there. I cannot control Colorado.”
His proximity makes me feel like I’m suffocating. I can see the gray threading through his dark hair near his temples, the faint lines around his eyes that appear when he's tired or stressed. Right now, both seem to apply.
“That's not the point,” I reply harshly, my breath trembling as I speak. I take a step back from him, needing distance even though part of me wants to close the gap instead. Another wave of dizziness ripples out from behind my eyes, making me blink hard to clear my vision. My balance wavers, and I have toreadjust my feet to keep from swaying. “You're making choices for me without even giving me a chance to think.”
“You have had days to think.” His response is clipped and final.
“I've had days to recover,” I correct, keeping my tone low only because anger is clawing at me. Each word fights its way up my throat. “And to worry about Hope.”
My sister's name hangs between us, raw and painful. Just saying it aloud twists under my ribs, the pressure rising until I have to force myself to breathe. My eyes burn with tears I refuse to let fall, the moisture gathering behind my eyes but not spilling over.
“That is why you need distance from here.” His tone gentles slightly, enough that I can hear the concern beneath the command.
Luka reaches for me, his hand extending toward my arm, but I pull away before his fingers make contact. The movement is instinctive, my body reacting before my mind catches up. His fingers pause in midair, hovering for a moment before he slowly lets them drop to his side. His hand curls into a loose fist, then relaxes again.
He registers everything I'm not saying, his eyes scanning my face with that intense focus he uses when he's reading people. But he assumes all of it is about losing control, losing my home, and about grief and fear. He doesn't know that the panic threading through me isn't his fault. It's because of the message I'm waiting for, and the promise I made. Because Ray holds my sister's life in his hands, and leaving this mountain feels like walking out of the last place he told me to stay put.
My throat tightens further, the muscles constricting until swallowing becomes nearly impossible. I can feel my heartbeateverywhere now, pounding in my temples, throbbing in my neck, and pulsing behind my ribs.
Luka's voice softens only slightly. “Sage.”
I shake my head, the motion quick and jerky. I try to swallow the tight knot forming in my throat, but it won't budge, sitting there like a stone. My pulse thunders in my ears, swallowing the cabin’s quiet until all I can hear is the clock on the wall. It ticks like it’s mocking me, each second marking time I don’t have.
“I don't want to go.” The admission comes out raw and honest, stripped of any pretense.
His brows draw together, and the muscle in his jaw pulses again, more pronounced this time. The tendons in his neck stand out when he tilts his head slightly, studying me with renewed intensity. “You cannot stay in a location the Sokolovs have already breached.”
“You're acting like I'm a piece of cargo,” I snap, my hands curling into fists at my sides. “Move her here. Move her there. Hide her in this cabin. Drag her across state lines. Does any of this feel normal to you?”
“No,” he replies immediately, unmoving. His feet remain planted, shoulders squared, posture radiating certainty. “Nothing about this is normal. That is exactly why you need to listen to me.”
The argument rises between us like a wall building itself brick by brick, each exchange adding another layer. His breath hitches faintly, the only sign of frustration crossing his face beyond the tension in his jaw. Something inside me coils too tightly to contain, winding up like a spring about to snap. My chest feelscompressed, ribs squeezing inward with each shallow breath I manage to take.
“You keep making decisions for me.” I whisper the accusation, my voice threatening to break completely. The words come out uneven and wavering. “Without me. That's not protection, Luka. That's control.”
His eyes narrow a fraction, the hazel darkening to brown. The air between us grows thicker, packed with all the words trapped between us.
“If I wanted control, you would not be standing here arguing with me.” He steps closer again, lowering his voice until it's almost intimate despite the tension. His breath ghosts across my face, warm compared to the cool air in the room. “I need you alive long enough to save your sister. That is the priority.”
The sentence feels like a punch to my gut, the impact reverberating through my entire body. Because it's true. And because it twists the knife deeper inside me, cutting into places already raw and bleeding. I can feel my heartbeat everywhere now, behind my ribs, in my throat, under my skin like it's trying to burst out. My hands tremble at my sides, the shaking visible now despite my attempts to control it.
“You think I don't know that?” My voice cracks on the last word, breaking apart despite my best efforts to hold it together. The pain in my chest spreads outward, radiating down my arms and up into my jaw. “You think I don't lie awake every second wondering where she is, if she's eating, if she's had an episode, and if she's scared out of her mind?”
The image of Hope bound and gagged flashes through my mind unbidden, the photograph Ray sent burned into my memory. Ican see the duct tape across her mouth, the rope around her wrists, the fear in her eyes, even through the grainy image. The vision makes my stomach turn, bile rising in my throat.
His jaw softens, the hard line easing by millimeters. The shift is subtle but noticeable, pure determination giving way to the faintest trace of understanding. “Then trust me.”
Those two words strike with more force than anything else he’s said.Trust him.Trust the man whose world I'm drowning in, whose enemies want me dead, and whose protection feels like a cage even when I know he means well. Trust him when Ray is watching every move I make through whatever invisible wire he has around my neck. Trust him when Hope's life depends on me playing Ray's game exactly the way he wants.
