Low.
More than one.
My stomach drops.
That is new.
That is not just him.
I move before I can think better of it, grabbing the handle and unlocking the door in one quick motion, the decision made before doubt has a chance to catch up with me.
Cold air hits me the second I step onto the porch, sharp and biting, pulling a breath from my lungs.
“Ethan?” I call.
Boots crunch somewhere in the distance.
More than one set.
Shadows shift between the trees, larger now, broader, no longer trying to stay hidden as they move toward the cabin.
My pulse spikes hard enough that I feel it in my throat.
“Ethan.”
He steps into view first.
Of course he does.
Controlled. Focused. Moving like nothing out there could touch him.
But something about him is different now, something tighter, more sharpened, like whatever he found out there has locked into place inside him.
And behind him, more men emerge from the trees, spilling into the open like the mountain itself sent them.
They are big, solid, quiet in a way that feels intentional, like they know exactly how to move without being heard.
Dangerous.
I take a step back without meaning to.
Ethan notices immediately, his gaze snapping to me.
“Inside,” he says.
“I’m not?—”
“Inside.”
The edge in his voice cuts through everything else, and this time I do not argue.
I step back into the cabin as they approach, my eyes tracking each of them as they come into the light, taking them in one by one.
One is tall with sharp, assessing eyes, scanning the space like he is already mapping it in his head.
Another is broader, heavier, with a half-smirk that feels like he already knows something I do not.
A third is lean and watchful, his gaze flicking between me and Ethan like he is putting something together piece by piece.
