The snow hides treacherous footing, and the wind picks up, driving ice crystals like needles against any exposed skin.
It takes three times as long as it should, but we finally reach my cabin.
One room, one bed, minimal comfort.
I’ve kept it that way deliberately, part of my self-imposed exile.
Now it will become torture with no escape from this hunger she’s awakening in me. The part of me that wants to heal every mark on her skin and replace them with my own.
The cabin’s dark shape emerges through a curtain of snow—my fortress against the world. High-tech sophistication hidden beneath the wilderness façade. Motion sensors gleam dullybeneath snow-laden eaves. Reinforced shutters wait to transform windows into armor. Solar panels peek through frost, powering a military-grade security system.
“Almost there.” I adjust my grip, hating how naturally she yields to the movement.
She doesn’t know that the same instincts driving me to protect her could easily turn destructive. One flashback, one nightmare, and all that control shatters.
Bear leads and Chaos flanks us. Everything in me screams to get her inside, to shelter her, and make her mine.
That’s what makes me dangerous. The same drive that makes me want to protect can instantly turn deadly.
Whatever, there’s nothing to do about that now. My fortress waits.
One room. One bed.
No escape.
From her.
From myself.
Until those men come hunting.
And they will come hunting.
But when they come, they’ll find something they didn’t expect.
Not a helpless victim.
They’ll find me, and all the parts I’ve tried to bury.
The monster I’ve been keeping leashed, the one that already sees her as mine to protect.
God help us both.
THREE
Willow
Each stepthrough the deep snow slices fire through my ribs. I match Mason’s pace, forcing each foot to follow his tracks. Only his stride is much longer than mine.
He set me down as we neared this cabin of his. A cabin, deep in the wilderness. Soundssafe.I’d laugh if I had any energy left.
The wind cuts through the borrowed thermals, but it’s his presence that steals my breath. The way he moves, deliberate, powerful, silent. The way his hand reaches back to steady me when I stumble.
I shouldn’t be noticing him. Not like this. Not when Drake and his men could be closing in.
But something in me—something bruised but not broken—recognizes safety in him. Strength in his hands. Calm in his voice. Authority wrapped in restraint.
When he carried me through the storm, I felt weightless and anchored all at once.
