"No."
Her jaw sets in that stubborn line I'm learning to recognize. "It's my property. I'm coming."
"Maya—"
"Don't 'Maya' me. You're not leaving me here alone to wonder if you're coming back." She's already grabbing her coat, her movements sharp with determination. "Besides, I know these woods better than you do."
She has a point. A frustrating, valid point.
"Fine. But you stay behind me, and if I tell you to run, you run. Understood?"
"Understood." But the way she says it suggests she has no intention of following that order if it comes down to it.
We head east, following the direction the second shot came from. The snow is deep enough that walking is slow work, and I find myself watching Maya more than I should. The way her ass moves in those jeans should be a crime. My cock stirs just looking at her.
She's beautiful and tough, and I'm an idiot for noticing at a time like this.
We find the spot about forty minutes later. Shell casings in the snow, still bright and unfrosted. Fresh tracks, but not the kind that suggest stealth or surveillance. These are the heavy, careless prints of someone who wasn't trying to hide their presence.
"Poachers," Maya says, crouching to examine the casings. "Probably went after an elk or deer."
I scan the area, looking for a blood trail, for any sign of what they were shooting at. There. A spray of red against white snow, leading deeper into the trees. The tracks follow it, two sets of boots, moving with the purposeful stride of people tracking wounded prey.
"You're right." The words taste like disappointment in my mouth. "Just poachers."
Maya looks up at me, and something in my expression makes her frown. "You sound almost upset about that."
"I'm not upset."
"You are. You wanted it to be a threat." She stands, brushing snow from her knees. "Why would you want that?"
Because part of me was hoping for violence. For a clear enemy I could eliminate. For an excuse to use the skills that keep surfacing in my muscle memory, the cold efficiency that feels more natural than it should.
"I don't know," I lie.
We head back to the cabin in silence, and then a memory slams into me without warning. I stop in my tracks, my eyes squeezed shut while I grab both sides of my head.
A phone in my hand, a voice on the other end reporting a problem. Someone skimming from my operations, someone who thought I wouldn't notice. I listen to the details with the same detached focus I bring to everything, my mind already calculating the cost of his betrayal and the cost of letting it slide. There is no middle ground in my world.
"Handle it," I say, and the words carry the weight of finality. Two words. No hesitation. No second thoughts. The satisfaction that follows is immediate and pure, a clean efficiency that settles into my bones like it belongs there. A problem identified, a solution executed. I feel nothing as I end the call. No pity. No anger. Just the cold calculation of a loose end being tied off, and somewhere deep in my chest, something that might be contentment if I allowed myself to name it.
The sound that follows is sharp and wet. The man crumples. And I feel… satisfaction. Not pleasure, exactly. But the clean efficiency of a problem solved. A loose end tied off.
I stumble, catching myself against a tree. My heart is racing now, my breath coming too fast.
"Sasha?" Maya's voice cuts through the memory. "Are you okay?"
"Fine." I straighten, forcing my breathing to steady. "Just slipped."
She doesn't believe me. I can see it in the way she studies my face, the concern in those blue eyes. But she doesn't push, just waits until I'm ready to keep walking.
By the time we get back to the cabin, the sun is fully up, and my hands have stopped shaking. Maya heads straight for thebathroom, and I hear the water start running. A bath. She's taking a bath.
I should give her privacy. Should use this time to check the perimeter again, to review our security measures, to do literally anything other than what I'm about to do.
But I'm already moving toward the bathroom door.
It's cracked open, steam curling out into the hallway. Through the gap, I can see her silhouette through the frosted shower curtain. She's already in the tub, her head tilted back, her blonde hair pinned up in a messy knot.
