"What?"
"To check the area. See if anyone's been watching the house. Ask around." He's already reaching for his jacket, his movements efficient and purposeful as usual.
"Lock the door behind me. Don't answer anyone."
"No."
He stops in his tracks, then turns to face me, an incredulous look on his handsome face. "What?"
I lift my chin, folding my arms across my chest. "I said no. I'm not staying here alone."
"Isabella—"
"Don't." I narrow my eyes at him because I really mean business. "Don't tell me it's safer. Don't tell me I should stay put. If you're going out, I'm coming with you."
"That's not a good idea."
"I don't care."
"You'll be safer here."
"I don't feel safe anywhere." The words come out before I can stop them, true and raw and too honest for this moment but I can't pull them back. "At least out there I can see what's coming. In here I'm just waiting for the next thing to happen and I'm done waiting."
We stare at each other across the room and neither of us moves and I watch him fighting it, fighting the urge to argue or order or simply put himself between me and the door and refuse to move because he’s a freaking brute like that.
But I'm not backing down and he can see that clearly enough.
Finally, he exhales, sharp and frustrated, through his nose.
"Fine. You stay close. You do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it. Understood?"
"Understood."
"I mean it, Isabella. This isn't a game."
"I know it's not a game. Believe me." I move past him and pull my jacket off the hook by the door. "Let's go."
Outside, the air is cold and sharp. I pull the jacket tighter around myself.
Enzo's already moving, checking the perimeter of the house, looking for tracks, signs of disturbance.
I follow and keep my distance but stay close enough that I can see what he's doing.
The ground around the cabin is undisturbed. No tire tracks. No footprints except ours from last night.
"Nothing."
He says it more to himself than to me.
"So, they didn't come to the house."
"No. It doesn’t look like it.” Enzo straightens and looks toward the road. "There are a few houses down the way. We can ask if anyone saw anything."
We walk and the silence between us is heavy, uncomfortable. I should say something, break the tension, but I don't know what to say that won't make things worse.
The first house is small and run down. An old man answers the door after we knock.
Enzo steps forward with his face hard and intimidating and the poor man takes one look at him, before trying to close the door.
