His posture shifts just a little.
Predator noticing movement.
Elijah sees it too. His head turns, eyes narrowing.
“What?” I whisper.
Oaks steps closer and lowers his voice so it’s just for me. “You been followed this week?”
My stomach drops. “No.”
His eyes go flat. “Don’t lie to me.”
The words shouldn’t make heat spark, but they do, and I hate myself for it.
Elijah looks between us, tense. “Followed by who?”
Oaks’ stare flicks to him, dismissive. “Not your business.”
Elijah’s cheeks flush. “If she’s in danger, it is my business.”
Oaks’ mouth twitches, humorless. “You think you’re the kind of man who can keep her safe?”
Elijah lifts his chin. “I think I’m the kind of man who doesn’t bring danger to her door.”
Oaks’ eyes cut back to me and for a split second something in them softens like that landed where it hurts.
Then the softness vanishes.
“Get in,” he says again, quieter. “I’ll follow you. From a distance. You won’t even know I’m there.”
I stare at him. “Why?”
His jaw flexes. “Because it’s my fault.”
My breath catches.
Elijah’s gaze sharpens. “What did you do?”
Oaks doesn’t deny anything.
My face heats, anger and embarrassment and something stupidly tender all at once. “You didn’t have to do anything.”
“Yeah,” Oaks murmurs. “I did.”
We’re having a whole conversation that Elijah doesn’t get. It’s innocent. We’re talking about Oaks protecting me. But he doesn’t know that.
I stand there with my heart doing something messy and loud, caught between Elijah’s clean concern and Oaks’ dark certainty, caught between safe and dangerous, and I’m so damn tired of everyone deciding what I am.
“I can take myself home,” I say again, voice shaking a little.
Oaks’ eyes hold mine. “Then let me make sure you get there.”
Elijah reaches for my arm gentle. “Brit. Please.”
I jerk away, not from fear, from frustration. “Stop grabbing me.”
Elijah flinches.
