Then a branch snaps in the distance.
Both of us turn instantly, the shift immediate, tension snapping into alert.
“Did you hear that?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Her stance changes without me having to say anything, sharper, more controlled.
Better.
“Where?” she asks.
“East.”
She scans the tree line, her focus tighter now. “Could be an animal.”
“Could be.”
“But you don’t think it is.”
“No.”
The forest stills again, too still this time.
She steps closer to me without thinking, instinct overriding everything else, her arm brushing mine, warm and solid. I don’t move, don’t break the contact.
“You said he’s tracking me,” she says quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Then what are we doing?”
I glance down at her, then back at the trees. “We’re letting him think he’s still in control.”
Her fingers curl slightly at her sides. “Is he?”
I shake my head once. “No.”
She looks up at me, searching my face. “Why are you so sure?”
I turn fully toward her, backing her just slightly toward the tree behind her, close enough that the space between us disappears again. “Because he doesn’t know me.”
Her breath catches.
“And you,” I add, “you’re starting to.”
The words hang between us, thick and dangerous.
She swallows. “And what does that mean?”
I let my gaze drop, slow, to her mouth, then lift it back to her eyes. “It means he picked the wrong woman.”
Her pulse jumps, visible, undeniable.
“And why’s that?” she asks, quieter now.
I step closer, just enough to feel the shift in her breathing. “Because now,” I murmur, leaning in, my hand gliding against her throat and bringing her ear close to my lips to whisper: “you’re mine to protect now.”
