I’m standing at the sink, rinsing a coffee mug for the third time, when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel drive.
My heart gives a quick, uneasy thud. Ronan’s truck sounds different—deeper, steadier. This engine is higher, sharper. I set the mug down carefully and move to the window, peering through the thin curtain.
A black sedan I don’t recognize sits behind my car. The driver’s door opens.
Travis steps out.
The world narrows to a pinprick.
He’s wearing the leather jacket I bought him last Christmas, the one he said made him look powerful. His hair is slicked back the way he likes it when he’s trying to appear in control. He scans the cottage as if he owns it already, then starts up the porch steps.
I back away from the window, pulse roaring in my ears. My phone is on the counter. I grab it, thumb hovering over the sheriff’s number I programmed in weeks ago. But my hand shakes so hard I nearly drop it.
The knock is sharp—three quick raps.
“Isla.” His voice carries through the wood, smooth, reasonable, the tone he uses when he wants to sound like the reasonable one. “Open the door. We need to talk.”
I don’t move.
Another knock. Harder.
“I know you’re in there. I saw your car. I drove all this way. The least you can do is let me in so we can discuss this like adults.”
My throat closes. I force words out, small and thin. “Go away, Travis.”
Silence. Then a low laugh, soft, almost fond.
“You can’t keep hiding, baby. You think this little nowhere town is going to keep you safe? You think you can disappear and I won’t find you?” His voice drops, intimate, like we’re lovers sharing a secret. “I always find you.”
I press my back to the wall beside the door. “I’m not coming back.”
The doorknob rattles. “You don’t get to make that decision. We’re engaged. You don’t walk away from a commitment like that. Not without consequences.”
My stomach twists. “We’re not engaged. I never said yes.”
“You wore the ring for six months.” His tone hardens. “That means something. You don’t get to change your mind because you got scared.”
“I got scared because you hurt me.”
A beat of silence. When he speaks again, the smoothness is gone. “I never meant to hurt you. You know how I get when I’m stressed. You pushed buttons. You always push buttons.”
I close my eyes. “Leave. Please.”
The door shakes as he slams his palm against it. “Open the damn door, Isla, or I swear I’ll—”
Footsteps on the porch, different this time. Heavy. Measured. Coming from the side of the house. Ronan. I don’t see him yet, but I feel the shift, the way the air changes when a predator steps into another predator’s territory. Travis must feel it too. His voice cuts off mid-sentence.
Ronan rounds the corner of the porch, boots deliberate on the wood. He stops at the top of the steps, hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed in the way only someone who knows exactly how dangerous he can be stands.
Travis turns slowly.
Ronan’s gaze flicks to me through the window, a quick check, making sure I’m upright, making sure I’m breathing, then settles on Travis.
“You lost?” Ronan asks, voice low and even.
Travis straightens, sizing him up. “This is private. Family business.”
Ronan doesn’t blink. “Doesn’t look private. Looks like you’re scaring a woman who told you to leave.”
