“You’re wrong about that,” he says, his voice firm yet gentle. “This is something that can be real. We can have both—the intensity, the passion, the trust, and the escape—in our real lives. It doesn’t have to be just a fantasy.”
I look at him, my eyes searching his, a glimmer of hope flickering to life within me, warring with the doubts that plague my mind. “Do you really believe that?” I whisper, my voice filled with both longing and doubt. “Because I have a life outside of this cabin. A husband who wants me dead. A job. Responsibilities. How does this fit into that?”
His expression turns serious, his eyes intense. “I believethat what we have here, what we’ve found together, is something rare and special. Something worth fighting for. Something worth taking risks for.”
“But, Mason…” I start, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. “He’s not going to let me go. He’ll come after me. He’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen.”
Mason’s gaze hardens, a protective fierceness shining through. “I’m not afraid of Steffan,” he growls. “I’m not afraid of anyone who tries to hurt you. I will protect you, no matter what it takes. I will keep you safe.”
“But how?” I ask, my doubts growing stronger. “How can we make this work? How can we have this kind of passion, this kind of trust, in the real world? It’s not that simple. It’s not that easy.”
He presses a soft kiss to my forehead, his arms tightening around me, his voice filled with conviction.
“I never said it would be easy, but I promise you, it will be worth it. We will find a way. Together. Because this is the reality I want to live in. A reality where you are mine, and I am yours. A reality where we fight for what we have, protect what we have, and cherish what we are.”
I look into his eyes, seeing the reflection of my feelings mirrored in their depths, but also seeing the shadows of my doubts, the fears that hold me back.
“I want to believe you,” I whisper. “I want to trust in this, but I’m scared. I’m scared of what happens when I leave this cabin. I’m scared of what happens when reality catches up with me.”
He holds me closer, his voice a low, steady rumble in his chest. “I know you’re scared. I know you have doubts. I’m not letting you go without a fight. I’m not letting this be just a fantasy because you are worth fighting for. Becausethisdoesn’t happen often.Weare worth fighting for.”
His words ignite a spark of determination within me, a flame that burns brighter than my doubts, stronger than myfears. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenges ahead.
“Okay,” I say, my voice filled with resolve. “Okay, let’s fight for this. Let’s make this our reality. But promise me, promise me that no matter what happens, no matter what we face, we face it together.”
He smiles, a fierce, determined smile that sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine. “Together,” he says. “No matter what. That’s a promise.”
As we lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of us, lost in our private sanctuary.
“Speaking of…” he says. “Tell me about this drive that’s so precious. What does it have on your husband?”
SEVEN
Willow
The soft blueglow of the laptop illuminates Mason’s face as his fingers move across the keyboard, his expression severe. I watch from the kitchen, two mugs of coffee steaming in my hands. The last day has shown me another side of him—methodical, tactical, a mind as lethal as his body.
The USB drive containing my evidence against Steffan sits connected to Mason’s high-security laptop, its contents now laid bare.
“It’s worse than I thought.” His voice holds the flat tone I’m learning means controlled rage. “Your husband has connections to arms dealers in six countries. At least three judges in his pocket. And the offshore accounts…” He shakes his head. “How did you get all this?”
I place his coffee beside him, savoring the brush of his shoulder against mine. “Three years of playing the perfect wife. People talk freely around women they underestimate.” I pause, remembering the careful cataloging of each scrap of information. “I was a public defender before I married him. I knew what to look for.”
He looks up at me then, something like admiration in his steel-gray eyes.
“You’re remarkable.”
The compliment warms me in places his hands haven’t touched. But there’s still caution in my soul, a voice that whispers:You barely know this man. Don’t make the same mistake twice.
The silence stretches between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. Outside, the storm has settled into a steady snowfall, quieter than yesterday’s rage but just as effective at keeping us isolated. A perfect cocoon for secrets and revelations.
“Mason,” I begin carefully, “who are you? Really?”
His fingers pause over the keyboard. For a moment, I think he’ll deflect again with a non-answer about being a wilderness guide. Instead, he closes the laptop and turns to face me fully.
“Former special operations. Delta Force, then something without a name.” His eyes hold mine, gauging my reaction. “I specialized in high-value target extraction and intelligence operations.”
“And now you live alone in the woods,” I say softly. “That’s quite a career change.”
