I tilt my head. “Then stop asking stupid questions and get out.”
She doesn’t take my hand. She slides out on her own, boots hitting dirt and dead leaves. The air smells like pine and rot and old rain. She straightens immediately, already scanning.
I close the door behind her and pocket the keys.
She turns in a slow circle. Trees in every direction. No trail. No light. The moon is barely there, useless.
“Walk,” I say.
“Which way?”
I point into the trees. “That way.”
She doesn’t move.
“You want me to just walk into the woods?” she asks. “In the dark?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I step closer. Close enough that I feel her heat, the tension vibrating off her skin.
“Because I told you to.”
Her back hits the car as she retreats without meaning to. The realization flickers across her face—that she let me close the distance.
“This is insane,” she breathes.
“This is a test.”
I lean in just enough that she has to tilt her head to keep eye contact.
“You said you’re not afraid of me,” I murmur. “Prove it.”
“I’m not afraid.”
I watch the lie move through her body before it ever reaches her mouth.
“Oh,Beda,you troublesome little liar.” I tap my finger once against her temple. “You should have never let me in.”
She stiffens, but she tries to hide it.
I smirk. “Walk.”
She doesn’t move.
Her jaw tightens, muscles in her neck pulling taut like she’s bracing for impact. I watch the way she shifts her weight without realizing it—left foot slightly back, ready to spring. Fight-or-flight, but controlled.
“What happens if I don’t?” she asks.
There it is. There’s that fight.
My smirk sharpens. “Then I make you.”
Her breath stutters. Just once. She hides it well, but I see everything now. The way her pupils flare. The way her shoulders stiffen like she’s locking herself into place.
She smells like soap and that goddamn scent that haunts me.
