Page 48

Instead, it makes everything feel terrifyingly serious.

Rhett moves toward the window slowly, careful and controlled, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out without exposing himself.

I watch his entire body sharpen.

Not panic.

Readiness.

“What do you see?” I whisper.

“Nothing yet.”

Yet.

God.

A branch snaps outside.

This time directly beside the cabin.

I flinch hard enough that the mattress shifts beneath me.

Rhett’s gaze cuts toward me instantly. “Hey.”

The single word lands low and steady.

Grounding.

But my composure is cracking fast now, fear pushing through every wall I’ve spent years building around myself.

“This isn’t happening,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “This cannot actually be happening.”

Another slow pass outside the cabin.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Like whoever it is wants us to hear him.

Rhett moves away from the window and crouches beside the bed, the rifle still balanced easily in his hand. “Look at me.”

I try.

I really try.

But my breathing’s already turning uneven, panic pressing hard against my ribs as every worst-case scenario crashes through my head at once.

“Nora.”

His hand closes around my wrist firmly.

Warm.

Solid.