Click.
This time she doesn’t comment.
The safe houseis a cabin twenty minutes out, tucked behind a line of trees off a gravel road. No lights from the highway.No neighbors. No landmarks that screamhere’s where we hide people.
I’ve used it before.
Never with a woman who makes my blood run hot.
I park, get out first, scan the perimeter, then open Stella’s door.
She steps out slowly, looking around.
“Cute,” she says faintly.
“Inside,” I tell her.
She follows me to the porch, and I unlock the door, sweep the cabin, check the rooms, check windows, check the back door.
Clear.
I flip on a lamp. Warm light fills the space—simple couch, small kitchen, table, one hallway.
Stella sets her bag down and wraps her arms around herself like she’s trying to hold her own ribs together.
I hate seeing her like this.
I step close, lowering my voice. “You’re safe here.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be,” I say.
She nods, but her chin trembles just slightly.
I reach out before I can stop myself and touch her shoulder—light, steady.
She leans into it like she needed it.
That small surrender punches me in the chest.
“I’m going to text Wyatt,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she whispers.
I send the update.Arrived. Secure. Door was unlocked. Zip tie left on counter. She’s safe.
Wyatt responds instantly.Thank you. Don’t let her minimize it.
I pocket my phone and look at Stella.
She’s watching me like she’s waiting for another shoe to drop.
“Bedroom’s down the hall,” I say. “You take it. I’ll take the couch.”
Stella frowns immediately. “No.”
“No?” I repeat.
