“You’re here and safe, just like I said.”
“No, I’m sitting around and waiting,” she snaps. “That plan only works for you.”
Before I can stop it, my anger responds to hers. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” she challenges, refusing to back down, reminiscent of how she was in Ashford. “You don’t want me involved, and you don’t want me making decisions. You just want me to sit here and cooperate while you handle everything.”
“I want you alive,” I counter, not knowing what else she wants from me.
“And I want to do something,” she fires back. “I’m not going to reduce myself to just your mate and wait around for you to decide what happens next.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“That’s exactly what you’re asking, but this is my fight too.”
“You’re being reckless,” I say finally.
“And you’re being controlling.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Naia looks at me like I’m saying all the wrong things. “That’s the problem, Zane. You don’t think I should have a say in this.”
“I think you’re too close to it.”
“I am it, and so is my family. I can’t just ignore this,” she mutters, frame tight with that same instinctive need to protect herself.
And I don’t have an immediate answer for it, leaving me questioning if I’ve pushed too far or if I have every right to want to keep her as far away from danger as possible.
“I can help,” she continues, voice steadier now. “I know Wraith Peak, and I know how Hayes thinks. I can be an asset.”
“You’re too emotionally tied to it,” I counter. “I can’t have you making mistakes because of it.”
Her brows furrow. “And you won’t?”
“I’m not trying to prove something.”
Immediately, her expression Darkens, and she bristles. “I need to prove that I’m more than what they made me. More than what you think I am.”
Hesitating, she catches me on that claim, and I soften a bit at the honesty. “I don’t think that.”
“You do,” Naia insists. “You just don’t realize it.”
Trying to get her to see that I’m not working against her, I move a bit closer. “That’s not true.”
“Then stop treating me like I can’t handle this.”
“I’m treating you like you matter,” I return, searching her eyes for any sort of compromise. “I want to keep you safe.”
“And I’m asking you to treat me like I have a choice.”
The air between us feels charged from this proximity, both tense and familiar, but this time, there’s no release in it. It doesn’t soften as the frustration mounts, like we’re just opposing sides that won’t bend.
“I’m not letting you walk into something that could get you killed,” I say, voice low and determined.
“And I’m not staying here pretending everything is fine.”
Before I can get anywhere with her, she gets up from the bed and steps away.
