"That op wasn't personal, Cross. We were ordered to leave."
"You pointed your rifle at me. That felt pretty fucking personal."
He doesn't flinch. He's still got that dead-souled stare.
"Orders are orders," says Brenner with a shrug.
"And consequences are consequences."
Weber fidgets. "Look, man, we're not here to stir shit. We just want the girl."
"Why do you want her?"
"Because someone paid us to find her."
"Who?"
"We don't ask names."
I press the blade lightly to Weber's collarbone. Just enough to draw a line of red, a bead of warning. His jaw tightens, but he doesn't flinch. I watch the change behind his eyes as defiance curdles into calculation. Good. Pain makes men honest.
"Then I suggest you start asking better questions," I say, voice a low growl. "Because if I don't get answers, I'll start carving them out of your skin."
Brenner's gaze adjusts slightly, a quick glance to the side that gives him away. Tells me where the nerves are. That's where I'll dig next.
I crouch in front of him, the knife still in my hand.
"Let me explain how this works. You came into my home. Lied to my face. Tried to make me think this was about concern. I don't take kindly to that."
Weber gulps.
"Now. One of you tells me the truth. Or both of you stop breathing."
They both know I mean it.
Brenner speaks first. "She was hired to find you."
I go still.
"Didn't know it until we saw her name on the job file. Someone wants you found, Zeb. Real bad. Sent her in first. We were the follow-up."
Rage flashes behind my eyes, but I force it down.
"So she's the bait."
"No," Brenner says. "She doesn't know. That's not how she came in. She was chasing a myth. But someone used her."
That should've made it simple. Tactical. A loose end to cut and forget. But it doesn't feel simple now. Not when I've watched her sleep in my bed. Not when I've heard the breath hitch in her throat when I touch her. If she was a trap, she's mine now. And I don't let go of what belongs to me.
Someone sent her into the storm. They maneuvered her and targeted me with precision. They gave her my legend, made sure she followed the trail straight into my arms. They leaked the location with just enough truth to lure her in and let the rest unravel on instinct.
She walked right into my territory, not knowing she was bait. But she didn't stay that way. She became a pulse in my blood, a heat I can't strip out even in the coldest snow.
And if they used her to get to me, then they gave me a reason to torch the entire operation and watch it go up in flames. Starting with them. Fed her the story. Leaked the location.
And I walked straight into the snare. Opened the door and welcomed her inside. Let her settle too close, slip beneath my guard, warm the spaces no one had touched in years.
The way she looked curled in my bed, lashes heavy with sleep, lips parted like she'd dreamed of my hands. The sound she made when I first pressed her down, caught between resistance and a need she hadn't named yet, still reverberates in the silence of these walls. It lingers like a memory etched into the grain of the floorboards, undeniable and permanent. She doesn't even know what she gave me. And I'll never give it back.
