He is not just talking about the threat.
I can feel it.
Hudson leans toward Flint, not lowering his voice enough to keep it private. “You feel that?”
Flint does not look away from Ethan. “Yeah.”
“Interesting,” Ethan adds, his gaze flicking between us.
My brows pull together. “Feel what?”
No one answers.
Of course they do not.
Ethan steps forward, cutting through it. “She stays inside.”
My head snaps toward him. “Excuse me?”
Hudson’s mouth twitches, Flint’s gaze sharpens, and the others notice everything, every shift in tone, every look that passes between us.
“She stays inside,” Ethan repeats.
“I’m right here,” I snap. “You can talk to me.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not. You’re making decisions for me.”
His eyes lock on mine, steady and unyielding. “Because you’re not thinking clearly.”
Anger flares fast and sharp. “I’m thinking just fine.”
“Then act like it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I fire back. “Did I miss the part where I asked you to take over my life?”
The room goes quiet, too quiet, and I feel all of them watching now, not the woods, not the threat, but us.
Ethan does not break eye contact. “You asked me for protection.”
“And I didn’t realize that meant giving up control.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It feels like it.”
The silence stretches, and then Hudson mutters, “She’s got a point.”
“Not helping,” Slate adds under his breath.
Flint watches us with something almost amused in his expression.
“You done?” Ethan asks.
“Not even close.”
I step forward, closing the distance between us, ignoring the weight of the room and the fact that five other men are watching this unfold.
