"You are a danger. Not because of who you are. Because of what happened. Someone tried to kill you. That brings wolves to my door. I have to think like a soldier, or you end up dead."
"I didn't ask for your protection," I snap. A lie. I craved it. Leaned into it. His detachment forces the lash out.
"You didn't have to ask," he growls. "You had it the second I saw you."
He pushes off the bed, pacing to the window. Agitated. "You don't get it. You think this is a misunderstanding? The people on the eastern ridge don't fire warning shots. A miss is a mistake. They will come back to finish it. Now that Logan knows, the club is involved. Not just me and you in a cabin anymore. This is war."
I sink back against the pillows. Reality settles like a shroud. Trapped. Leg useless. In an outlaw stronghold, hiding from assassins. The only person on my side treats emotions like landmines.
"So what happens now?" My voice is small.
He looks at me. The Road Captain's mask slips. I see the man who brushed hair off my sweaty forehead. The man who looked at me like I was the only light in his dark world. Exhausted.
"Now, I lock this door. I sit in that chair with a gun in my lap. And I wait for my brothers to tell me if the woman I just claimed is going to get us all killed."
He doesn't wait. He shuts the door, throwing the heavy deadbolt. He drags the worn leather armchair from the corner—the one he used to watch me sleep—and plants it directly in front of the door. He sits, spreading massive thighs, resting the gun on his knee. He stares across the room. Ten feet feels like miles.
"Get some sleep, Alexandria."
My full name. Not Allie. Not Baby. Not the desperate, heated endearments whispered against my skin when he was inside me. Alexandria.
I turn away, staring at the brick wall. Fight the sting of tears. The loft's safety evaporates, replaced by cold reality. He saved my life on the mountain. He claimed my body in this bed. But as he sits guard like a sentinel at the gates of hell, I realize I don't know Tristan Gunnar at all. I only know the Road Captain. And right now, he looks at me not as a lover, but as a mission.
Hours drag. The silence isn't comfortable anymore. It’s the tense quiet of a waiting room. I drift in a painkiller haze. Every time I wake, he’s there. Still. Watching. He brings water. He helps me to the bathroom with a detachment that hurts worse than the broken bone. Then he returns to his post.
Late afternoon. The radio on his belt crackles. "Tris. You copy?"
Tristan hits the button. "Go for Tris."
"It’s Shane. Up at the ridge."
Tristan’s posture sharpens. "What did you find?"
Static fills the pause. "Found the impact site. She told the truth. Rock is pulverized. High caliber. Not the only thing."
"Spit it out."
"Found a trail cam fifty yards out. Belonged to the shooter. Must have been scouting game trails. I pulled the memory card."
My heart leaps. "Evidence?"
Tristan holds up a hand. "What’s on it?"
"Photos of the valley. Deer. And a dozen shots of the loft. The garage. Comings and goings."
Tristan goes rigid, his knuckles white as he grips the radio. "They've been watching," he rumbles, the sound like a tectonicplate shifting. "Waiting for the storm to clear for extraction. They knew the loft was a kill-box, but they hesitated—they wanted the drive intact before burning the building to the ground. Once we moved this morning, they realized their window was closing. They had to move on our turf."
Blood drains from my face. Tristan stands, chair clattering backward. He moves to the window, slamming the heavy metal shutters closed. Barring them. "They know she's here," Tristan says into the radio.
"They know," Shane confirms. "If they were watching this morning, they saw Logan and the rest arrive. They know she’s under club protection."
"Means they strike fast before we dig in," Logan cuts in. "Tris, get her ready. Moving her to the compound vault. Now."
"Copy." Tristan kills the radio. Turns to me. Detachment gone. Fear is there, naked and raw. Mixed with feral intensity, vibrating the air. He crosses the room in two strides.
"We have to go." He shoves feet into boots.
"They were watching us? Through the window?"
