He steps back immediately, putting space between us. “Sorry.”
I nod. Can’t speak. Because for half a second, my head was flooded with images. Sensations. Sounds.
Stop.
I move back to the bed and sit down. He returns to his window. The distance between us feels inadequate. The room is too small. The air too thick. Every second that passes makes my wolf more insistent.
Want him.
No.
Time crawls, minutes feeling like hours. I track sounds from outside—cars passing, voices in the distance, the wind picking up. And underneath it all: footsteps. Getting closer.
“They’re three buildings away,” Jericho says. His voice is calm, but I hear the tension underneath. “Moving faster now.”
He moves from the window and sits in the single chair by the small table, giving me space, even though there’s barely any to give in this cramped room.
The silence stretches.
Not comfortable. Not hostile. Just loaded.
“Nadia.”
His voice makes me look up.
He’s watching me again. That same unreadable expression. “If they get here, I could shift. Fly us out again.”
I shake my head. “And risk exposing your dragon to a town full of humans?”
“Right. Bad idea.” He rubs a hand over his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen him show any sign of indecision since I dragged him out of the convoy.
“You okay?” I ask, surprising myself.
He frowns at me for a moment. “I…” His frown deepens. “I’ve never had to worry about anyone else before.”
I blink. “You’re worried about me?”
He shrugs.
“I can take care of myself, Jericho.”
“Of course you can.” He turns to look back out of the window.
More silence. The fact that he’s worried about me unsettles me. A lot.
Outside, I hear vehicle doors. Agents regrouping. Coordinating. Getting closer.
“They’re close now,” he says quietly.
My wolf growls. Fight or flight instinct kicking in. But we can’t do either. Can’t fight twelve operatives. Can’t run without being seen. Can’t shift into our beasts. Can only sit here and hope they don’t find us.
More minutes pass. Each one feels longer than the last.
Jericho stays by the window, watching their progress. “Just left the place next door,” he says.
Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.
My pulse kicks faster. I stand and move to the bathroom. Splash cold water on my face. Stare at my reflection.
