His jaw clenches. He heard what I didn’t say.
“I’ll dispose of it.” He reaches for the rope.
“I’ll clean up.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not running, Drayke.” I grab a bucket from the corner, fill it from the rain barrel. “Don’t even ask.”
We work in grim silence. He gathers the carcass, carries it into the forest to burn. I scrub blood from the porch boards with steady hands and a stomach that refuses to turn. By the time the wood is clean, my arms ache and my knees are sore from kneeling.
But the MATE carved into flesh stays burned into my memory.
The deer is justthe beginning.
Mid-morning, Drayke finds burned symbols on the trees ringing the cabin. Crude runes I don’t recognize, scorched intobark at dragon-eye height. His face goes carefully blank when he sees them, which tells me everything I need to know about how bad they are.
“What do they say?”
“Threats. Warnings.” He won’t meet my eyes. “Descriptions of what they’ll do when they take you.”
My stomach twists, but I keep my voice steady. “Charming. Do they offer a timeline, or is it more of a vague ‘coming soon’ situation?”
“Selene.” His voice is rough. Strained.
“What? You want me to panic? Fall apart?” I cross my arms, hiding the tremor in my hands. “That’s what they want. I won’t give it to them.”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then something in his expression shifts—respect, maybe. Or resignation.
“Stay close to the cabin today.”
“Already planned on it, Ranger Rick.”
By noon, the wind carries whispers. My name, hissed from directions I can’t pinpoint.Seeeelene. Fire-Bringerrr.Every time I turn toward the sound, there’s nothing but rustling leaves and shadows that move wrong.
The shadows are the worst part. They slide between trees when I’m not looking directly at them, freezing in place when I turn my head. Like they’re playing a game. Testing my reactions.
Once, I catch the outline of wings against the midday sun. Gone before I can blink.
Drayke paces the perimeter like a caged predator, tension radiating off him in waves. Each new threat ratchets his protectiveness higher. By mid-afternoon, he’s barely letting me out of arm’s reach.
“They know what you are to me.” He stands at the window, watching the tree line with predator-sharp focus. “They’re trying to provoke a response.”
“Good.” I join him at the window, our shoulders brushing. “I’m tired of hiding.”
He turns. Looks down at me with an expression I can’t quite read—fury and fear and something hotter underneath. “You should be afraid.”
“Should be. Aren’t.” I hold his gaze. “They can carve all the threats they want into dead animals. They can whisper my name until they’re hoarse. But I’m not running, and I’m not breaking. If they want me, they’ll have to come and get me.”
His nostrils flare.
“That fearlessness is going to get you killed.”
“Maybe.” I reach up, touch his jaw. He leans into it despite himself. “Or maybe it’s going to keep me alive. Fear makes you stupid. Makes you hesitate. I’d rather die fighting than live cowering.”
He catches my wrist. Presses his lips to my pulse point. The gesture is tender and possessive all at once.
“You infuriate me.”
