She falls quiet, her gaze traveling the ruined forest floor. For a moment she seems to understand—not the violence, not the war simmering beneath the surface, but the violation of it. Someone trespassing not just on my land, but on the order I impose upon it.
A branch snaps loudly in the distance.
My head whips toward the sound. “Check the ridge,” I tell Dima and two others. “Sweep out half a mile.”
They disappear into the brush. I start moving faster, fury driving my steps. Roxy follows but stumbles when a root catches her boot.
“Mak, slow down?—”
“We don’t have time.” My pulse is pounding, part of me still back in the woods a week ago—with blood on my hands. Lives lost under my control. Or lack thereof; someone is testing it.
“I’m trying, but I’m not exactly built for hiking at this pace.”
I try not to think about all the other activities she’s built for… “You agreed to come.”
“You didn’t give me a choice!”
That makes me stop.
I turn. She nearly runs into me.
Her cheeks are flushed, sweat collecting on her forehead, bare arms crossed. She looks angry and alive and exactly where she shouldn’t be. I couldn’t leave her.
“You should have told me where we were going,” she says. “Or how long we’d be gone. I have a daughter waiting for me.”
“She’s fine,” I say.
“How do you know?”
“Because I left four men at your house.”
She blinks, stunned. “Four?”
“Two at her school.”
“Her school—Mak, you’re not serious.” Andrea started school three days ago; I had Lauren confirm her enrollment and pull up a copy of the academic calendar. I intend to know where my daughter is at all times.
“Every day,” I say. “All day.”
She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
“That’s not protection. That’s—” She stops, searching for a word. “That’s intrusive.”
“Your daughter was afraid last night.”
“So was I.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Exactly.”
An ATV rumbles somewhere far off, though maybe it’s just my pulse. Roxy’s shoulders rise with a breath she seems to regret taking.
She opens her mouth to argue again, and then the forest goes silent.
Every bird stops. Every insect stills. I know the feeling instantly.
“Roxy,” I warn, “don’t move.”
