“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
Naia studies me like she’s trying to pick it apart, find the flaw, and point out the hidden angle she seems so hellbent on finding, but she’ll only be disappointed.
After a moment, she looks away again, her shoulders looking a bit heavier than they did before. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“I know,” I murmur, hands in my pockets while the quiet air around us settles again, but tighter now, still, not as volatile as it was.
As she exhales and continues down the trail, I watch her for a second. I focus on the way she’s already closed herself off again, and how that brief crack in her armor is gone like it never happened.
She let me see that, just long enough to tell me she isn’t immune to the past either, and now, I can’t stop wondering if I’ll ever get through that wall again. Or why the hell I even want to.
Chapter 8 - Naia
Being out here helps, even if I don’t want to admit that. I certainly don’t admit that, regardless of it being true.
Ashford is nothing like the island. Everything is louder, faster, brighter, and there’s too much going on. It’s overwhelming, but there’s something about it that feels open in a way, like you could disappear into it if you really wanted to.
Not that I would, and not that Zane would let me anyway.
My place is on the island with my pack after I fix what went wrong.
Still, it’s different, and after being stuck in Zane’s apartment for days, even remotely different feels like relief.
Walking a step ahead of him now, I let the forest swallow some of that restless energy that’s been clawing at me since he dragged me out here, and since the tension changed between us. The air is cooler, cleaner, and for a few minutes, I almost forget how much I want to shove him off the nearest cliff. Almost.
We were off to a good start, but of course, that could only last for so long, and now, I feel a bit ridiculous for being as vulnerable with him as I was. I never should’ve let on just how much it bothered me when he left Wraith Peak.
I glance back at him, still vaguely annoyed with myself. “Are you just going to hover like that all day?”
Zane takes a slow breath. “I’m not hovering.”
“You’re watching me like I’m about to explode.”
“You might.”
I roll my eyes and keep moving, well aware of what he’s implying. “If I wanted to, I would’ve tried already.”
“I know.”
Of course he does. That’s the thing that bothers me…how much he thinks he still knows about me, substantiated or not.
I turn back around with a tight jaw, trying to focus on the nature around me rather than his constant awareness and the way he tracks everything I do like he’s waiting for me to make a mistake. He sees me as something to manage and contain, and the thought irritates me all over again.
But something nearby moves. It’s subtle and faint, but I slow as that wrong feeling settles in.
The moment Zane notices, he’s right behind me, voice in my ear. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I mutter, brows furrowing as I glance at him.
He holds my gaze for a moment, looking for any sign of a lie, then he huffs out a quiet breath before scanning the trees around us.
The air changes just enough to be noticeable, and a scent carries on the wind, and we both stop to inspect it. It’s familiar in a way that makes something cold coil in my chest.
To our left, a brief movement catches my eye, and I tense, but Zane’s hand closes around my arm before I can take a step.
“Stay,” he murmurs, low and not leaving any room for argument.
The proximity makes my skin prickle, but I don’t argue. Not yet, anyway.
