Saxon doesn’t react to the commentary. His gaze flicks to me again. “My office.”
I nod once. “Supplies first.”
Saxon’s brows lift a fraction. “Supplies.”
I don’t blink. “For her.”
Saxon’s gaze drops to the flannel on Ellie’s body, then back to my face, and that look sharpens into something that could almost be amusement if it wasn’t so controlled.
“Five minutes,” he says. “Then my office.”
He turns and walks away like he expects obedience.
He gets it.
I lead Ellie to the storage room, ignoring the way Levi’s eyes follow us like he’s already scripting a group chat. Ellie keeps pace, jaw tight, shoulders tense. She’s trying to look like she doesn’t care, but her hand keeps clenching around her phone like she expects it to explode.
Inside the storage room, the air is cooler, packed with the smell of canvas and metal and antiseptic. Shelves line the walls with first-aid kits, flashlights, batteries, thermal blankets, hand warmers, and spare radios.
Ellie looks around, swallowing. “You’re… stocking me.”
“I’m preparing,” I correct, grabbing a duffel and tossing items in with practiced speed.
“For what?”
“For anything.”
She watches me, eyes narrowing. “You’re doing that thing again.”
“What thing.”
“That… alpha command thing.” She gestures at me like she can’t decide if she hates it or wants to climb me like a tree.
I zip the duffel halfway. “It’s called competence.”
“Mm-hm.” She leans a hip against the shelf, flannel riding up her thigh just enough to make my attention snag. “Do you always pack like you’re planning for the apocalypse?”
I toss in a flashlight. “If it keeps you alive, yes.”
Her mouth tightens. “You keep talking like someone’s going to hurt me.”
I stop long enough to look at her fully. “Someone is.”
Her face goes still.
I step closer, until the storage room feels smaller, until there’s only the two of us and the hum of the fluorescent light.“You don’t have to tell me everything,” I say low. “But you tell me the parts that keep you breathing.”
Ellie’s throat works. “Wyatt…”
My gaze drops to her mouth. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
“His name.”
Her eyes flash with anger and fear. “No.”
I hold her stare. “Ellie.”
