The night before I left.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist tight enough to bruise. His breath against my ear. His voice, low and certain, like he was telling me something I already knew.
I blink and the memory dissolves.
Gracie parks near the guest house. A charming cottage behind the main house, surrounded by gardens, complete with its own little porch.
If I didn't know where I was, I might call it cozy, but I know exactly where I am.
"Let me show you around." Gracie's already out of the car. "Kitchen's stocked. There's a path through the gardens if you want to come up for dinner."
"I'll get settled tonight." I grab my duffel from her trunk. "Rain check?"
"Tomorrow, then. I'm holding you to it." She hugs me one more time, fierce and quick. "I'm so glad you're here, Libby. Everything's going to be okay."
She sounds so sure.
I watch her walk back to her car.
Watch the taillights disappear around the bend.
Then I turn toward the main house.
And the world stops.
He's standing at a second-floor window.
Perfectly still. Silhouette backlit by the dying sun.
I can't see his face clearly from here, but I don't need to.
Six-two, broad shoulders, dark hair. The kind of stillness that isn't calm.
It's patience.
The patience of something that knows how to wait.
I can feel his eyes on me. Can feel them the way you feel a rifle scope before the shot. My skin goes tight. My pulse kicks hard enough that I feel it in my teeth.
Eight years.
Eight thousand miles.
Three combat tours.
I've been shot at, blown up, nearly killed more times than I can count. I've held friends while they bled out in the sand. I've stared down enemies who wanted me dead and didn't blink.
But standing in this driveway, with Elias Ashford's eyes on me, I feel something I haven't felt since I was eighteen years old and running for my life.
Fear.
Real, primal, bone-deep fear.
Not of what he might do.
Of what I might let him.
I force myself to look away first. Force my legs to carry me to the guest house, to open the door, to step inside, to close it behind me.
