My shoulders tighten, bracing for what comes next—the step back, the hand drifting toward the door, the quick glance to see if anyone's close enough to hear her scream.
It doesn't come. Instead, her gaze lingers on my tusks, both rows of them, built for a predator, not a protector. Then the sheer size of me. There is no fear. She's not measuring the threat.
She's measuring the protection.
"You're Diesel." Her voice is scraped raw. "Nova said you'd help me."
"Nova says a lot of things."
"She said you could be a real asshole." The corner of her mouth twitches, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "But you won't let anything get close to me."
Every protective instinct I've spent years burying roars to life.
I could tell her she's wrong. I could tell her what happened to the last person who thought that.
Maya's watching with that expression she gets when she's already won. Nova gives me a short nod.
And then there's Eden.
Frayed to the bone. Her entire life into a duffel bag, standing in a stranger's home like her body wants to fall, but her will won’t let it quit.
Goddammit.
"Eight days," I say. "You don't leave this cottage—not if you hear gunshots, not if the walls come down around you, not for any reason. You don't contact anyone from your old life. When I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions, no hesitation."
She nods.
"Bedroom's down the hall. I'll take the couch."
Maya winces. "I didn't really think that part through."
"You didn't think any of this through." I look at Eden again. "We'll make do."
"The shoulder wound needs care," Maya says. "Daily cleaning, fresh bandages. I'll leave supplies and a burner so you can reach us. If it shows any sign of infection—redness, heat, discharge—call me immediately."
"I know how to dress a wound."
"I know you do." Maya's voice softens. "That's why I'm trusting you with her."
Nova turns to me and lowers her voice. "If something goes wrong, we'll know. Ash has eyes on the road. Crow's monitoring the usual channels." She pauses. "But nothing's going to go wrong. That's why she's here."
Eden stands there, arms wrapped around herself.
"You eat?" I ask. "Maya made enough to feed half the club. Might still be warm."
She shakes her head.
"Kitchen's stocked. Help yourself when you're ready." A small jerk of her chin, but she doesn't move.
"I'm sorry." Her voice cracks on it. "For all of this. For disrupting your life. I know you didn't ask for—"
My beast protests, a low growl I barely manage to swallow. "Don't." The word comes out rougher than I mean it to. "Don't apologize for needing protection."
She stares at me, recalculating, adjusting whatever she expected me to be.
"Bathroom's that door. Towels under the sink, lock works from the inside." I keep my voice even. "I'll be on the porch while you get settled. Get some sleep. We'll figure out the rest in the morning."
She hesitates. She wants to argue—the set of her jaw says she's the type who would under normal circumstances.
