Check her temperature—ninety-four point three degrees, mild hypothermia but not critical.
Check for frostbite—her fingers and toes are dangerously cold but not yet damaged.
Give her warm fluids and wrap her in heated blankets.
She'll be fine.
Physically, at least.
Emotionally? Psychologically?
That's a different question.
The drive back to the estate is silent.
Eden stares out the window, wrapped in heated blankets, refusing to look at me.
She looks defeated.
Broken in a way she wasn't before.
And I did that.
I broke something in her by letting her find that invitation.
By showing her what I'm really preparing her for.
By proving that she was right not to trust me.
When we pull up to the estate, the full weight of what happens next settles over both of us.
She finally speaks. "What now?"
"Now we go inside."
"And then?"
I look at her. Really look at her. At the fear and defiance warring in those hazel eyes.
"Then you learn what happens when you run from me."
Her breath catches. "Vaughn?—"
"You ran, Eden. Risked your life. Scared me half to death. Proved that you don't understand yet what it means to be mine. So now you're going to learn."
"Please—"
"No." I get out of the vehicle. Come around to her side. Open the door. "No more running. No more defiance. Tonight, everything changes."
I offer my hand.
She stares at it like it's a snake.
Then, with shaking hands, she takes it.
Lets me help her out.
Mrs. Silva is waiting inside, her face lined with concern and relief.
