The air shimmered around him as he activated his disguise. Within seconds, the copper-skinned angel I'd been flying with was gone, replaced by the man—tall, dark-haired, his breath misting in the cold, looking every bit as exhausted as I felt. He immediately crouched low, scanning the cabin through the trees with narrowed eyes.
"We should approach carefully," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Stay in the trees, come up from the side where we have cover...."
"Are you trying to get us shot?" I interrupted, digging through the duffle to pull him out a shirt. I had no desire to explain to Cullen why Rickon was out in freezing weather bare-chested.
He looked at me, confused, but took the shirt I offered and donned it quickly.
I shook my head, already moving forward. "Cullen Blackwood is a decorated military man with sniper training and enough experience to wire this whole property with sensors. If we try to sneak up on him in the middle of the night, we'll be lucky if he just wounds us."
"Then what do you suggest?"
I stepped out from behind the tree and cupped my hands around my mouth. "CULLEN!" My voice rang out across the snow, loud and clear in the still night air. "IT'S ELLIE BRADFORD! DON'T SHOOT!"
Rickon stared at me like I'd lost my mind, his expression somewhere between horrified and impressed.
"CULLEN BLACKWOOD! I'M COMING TO YOUR DOOR!" I started walking toward the cabin, making as muchnoise as possible, boots crunching deliberately in the snow with each exaggerated step. "I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! I'M WITH A FRIEND! WE NEED HELP!"
Behind me, Rickon muttered something that sounded like a prayer and followed, looking distinctly uncomfortable with this plan, his hand hovering near where a weapon would be if he had one.
Every light in the cabin blazed on at once, flooding the snow with harsh yellow light. A spotlight pinned us in place, so intense I had to shield my eyes. Rickon stepped close, his arms going around me protectively, his body tense.
The cabin door swung open, and a figure stepped onto the porch, rifle raised and ready. Backlit by the interior lights, I recognized him immediately, the broad shoulders, the careful, measured way he moved. Cullen Blackwood had aged since I'd last seen him, silver threading more prominently through his dark hair, lines deeper around his eyes, but he was still the formidable presence I remembered. Still fit, still solid, the kind of man who looked like he could handle whatever the world threw at him and ask for seconds.
His gaze swept over us, taking in every detail with the practiced assessment of someone who'd spent decades evaluating threats. Our posture, our clothing, the way we stood close together, the duffle bag, everything processed and categorized in seconds. Then his gaze locked onto my face, and I watched recognition dawn like sunrise, disbelief giving way to certainty.
The rifle lowered. A grin spread across his features, transforming his face from guarded to genuinely delighted, the years falling away.
"I knew it," he said, his voice carrying across the snow, rough with emotion. He propped the rifle against the porch railing. "I knew damn well that wasn't you on TV."
Relief flooded through me so intensely my knees nearly buckled, and I felt tears spring to my eyes. "Cullen!"
I was moving before I finished saying his name, half-running through the snow, my boots sinking with each step. He met me at the bottom of the porch steps, pulling me into a bear hug that lifted my feet off the ground and squeezed the air from my lungs. He smelled like woodsmoke and coffee, familiar and safe, and I felt tears prickle my eyes as I buried my face against his shoulder.
"Jesus, Ellie," he murmured into my hair, his voice thick. "What the hell happened?"
"Long story," I managed, my voice muffled against his shoulder, trying not to completely break down.
He set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders, studying my face, his eyes cataloging every detail. Then his gaze shifted past me to where Rickon stood, still partially in shadow, watchful and tense.
The warmth in Cullen's expression cooled instantly, replaced by calculating assessment. His hands dropped from my shoulders, and his posture shifted, not aggressive, but alert. Ready. His eyes narrowed as he took in Rickon's size, stance, and positioning.
"And who's this?"
"A friend," I said quickly, stepping slightly to the side so I wasn't blocking Cullen's view. "His name is Rickon. He saved my life, Cullen. More than once. He's the reason I'm standing here."
Rickon moved forward into the light, hands visible at his sides, purposefully non-threatening, his movements slow and deliberate. He met Cullen's gaze steadily but didn't speak, waiting for the older man's judgment.
The silence stretched, taut as a wire. Cullen's jaw worked, and I could practically see him running calculations, weighing risks, deciding whether to trust me, whether to trust thisstranger who'd brought me to his doorstep in the middle of the night.
Finally, he exhaled and some of the tension left his shoulders. "If Ellie vouches for you, that's good enough for me." He extended his hand. "Cullen Blackwood."
Rickon shook it, his grip firm. "Thank you for your hospitality."
Cullen grunted, still measuring him with sharp eyes, then turned back to the cabin. "Well, don't just stand there freezing. Get inside before you both catch pneumonia." He grabbed his rifle and gestured toward the open door. "I'll put on some coffee. Something tells me this is going to be a hell of a story."
The cabin was smaller inside than I expected, but warm and meticulously organized in a way that screamed military precision. A woodstove radiated heat in the corner, waves of warmth washing over me as I stepped inside. The main room served as a living space, kitchen, and command center all at once. But it was the far wall that drew my attention. A bank of computer monitors, at least six screens mounted side by side, displaying news feeds, data streams, and what looked like encrypted communications channels. The blue glow reflected off Cullen's face as he moved past them to the kitchen, casting him in an eerie light.
"Jesus, Cullen," I breathed, staring at the setup, overwhelmed by the sophistication of it. "When you said you were taking leave, I didn't realize you meant you were running a private intelligence operation."
