“Reeyan.” I try again, forcing my voice to stay level, “I appreciate you saving my life back there. Really, I do. But you can’t just kidnap me after rescuing me from kidnappers.”
“I’m not kidnapping you,” he insists, though he still won’t look at me. “I’m keeping you safe.”
I lean forward in my seat and throw my hands in the air. “By taking me somewhere without my consent? Pretty sure that’s the definition of kidnapping.”
“You’re not safe. Thornridge knows where you were. They might send more wolves to finish what those three started. Taking you back to Llewelyn means driving through areas where we have no backup.”
“So call someone. Get backup.” I gesture toward the radio I can see mounted under the dashboard. Smart call, I must admit. Cell service out here can be spotty. “Problem solved.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It really is.” My voice gets louder despite my efforts to stay calm. “You pick up that radio, you call Oren or whoever, and you arrange for safe passage back to my territory. Simple.”
He doesn’t respond. Just keeps driving south, away from Llewelyn and deeper into Grayhide lands.
Fury bubbles up in my chest, and I can’t shove it down this time. I’ve had enough of being dragged around tonight by men who think they know what’s best for me.
“Stop the truck,” I grind out.
“Sera—”
“I said Stop the truck.” I reach for the door handle. “Either you stop it, or I’m jumping out while it’s moving.”
That gets his attention. His head whips toward me, and those green eyes are suddenly very focused on my face. “Don’t you dare.”
“Then. Stop. The. Truck.”
For a long moment, we just stare at each other. I can see him trying to figure out if I’m bluffing.
I’m not.
He must see that, because he lets out a long breath and pulls over to the side of the road. The truck rolls to a stop with the engine still running.
“Thank you.” I reach for the door handle again, but his hand shoots out and grabs my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I can’t easily pull away.
“Where exactly do you think you’re going?” he questions with a cocked brow.
I try to yank my arm free. “Walking back to Llewelyn if I have to. Let go of me.”
“You’re cut off from your wolf,” he points out. “You’re injured. You’re in shock. And you want to walk through hostile territory in the dark? That’s suicide.”
“My choice to make.” I pull harder, but he doesn’t let go. “Not yours.”
“I can’t let you do that.” Something in his voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Something possessive and fierce that doesn’t match the calm historian I always imagined him to be.
“You can’t stop me. Unless you plan to tie me up like those Thornridge wolves did.”
He flinches like I’ve slapped him. Good. Maybe that will get through to him.
“I would never—” he starts, then stops. Takes a breath. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask for your protection. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
He lets go of my wrist but doesn’t move away. We’re close enough in the cab of the truck that I can see the blood still drying on his shirt and smell the copper tang of it mixed with his scent.
“You’re right,” he acknowledges. “You didn’t ask for this. But those Thornridge wolves knew exactly where you’d be. Do you think it was a coincidence that they happened to be on this road at the same time you were? They were waiting for you. Watching you, I’m willing to bet. Don’t you want to know why?”
That stops me. Because he’s right, and I hate that he’s right.
