Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 149(@200wpm)___ 119(@250wpm)___ 99(@300wpm)
His breathing changes.
So does mine.
“You’ve been through a lot,” I say softly.
His eyes lock onto mine.
“So have you.”
The heat in his gaze nearly unravels me.
Because for the first time since I got here, I don’t feel like he’s looking at me as someone fragile.
He’s looking at me like he understands me.
Which might actually be more dangerous.
“You’re staring again,” he says quietly.
I swallow hard, still touching his hand. “Maybe you’re distracting.”
His gaze drops briefly to my mouth.
Then back up.
“And maybe,” he says slowly, “you’re getting a little too comfortable touching me like that.”
My pulse jumps instantly.
But I don’t pull away.
Neither does he.
And somehow that feels like the biggest shift of all.
Chapter Eight
Nora
The power goes out hard enough to wake me.
Wind rattles the windows violently.
Snow hammers the roof.
And somewhere outside, something moves.
I sit up too fast, disoriented, the blankets tangling around my legs while darkness swallows the room whole. For one sharp second I have no idea where I am, and then the smell of pine and woodsmoke hits me.
Rhett’s cabin.
The storm.
The mountain.
Another sound crunches outside.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Circling.
Every muscle in my body locks.
I hold my breath automatically, listening harder as the sound drifts past the side of the cabin again, boots grinding through fresh snow.
Not an animal.
Too heavy.
Too measured.
Fear crawls cold and fast down my spine.
Then I hear something else.
Metal sliding against metal.
I turn sharply toward the bedroom doorway just as a beam of moonlight flashes briefly across Rhett’s silhouette moving through the darkness.
He’s already awake.
I can barely make him out, but I hear the quiet click of a rifle loading somewhere near the hall.
The sound terrifies me more than the footsteps do.
Because it means he thinks this is real too.
“Rhett?” My voice comes out thinner than I want it to.
Immediately, he’s there.
The bedroom doorway fills with him, broad shoulders blocking out the pale blue storm light coming through the hall windows. His rifle rests loosely in one hand, his expression unreadable and focused in a way that makes my stomach tighten harder.
“Stay in bed,” he says quietly.
Another crunch outside.
Closer this time.
My pulse spikes. “Someone’s out there.”
“Yeah.”
The calmness in his voice should make me feel better.
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.
“Look at me.”
I finally do.
His eyes lock onto mine instantly, steady and sharp and completely controlled.
“Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“Not right.”
I hate that he’s correct.
Outside, footsteps drag through the snow again.
Closer.
My fingers tighten around the blanket automatically. “What if he gets inside?”
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
The certainty in his voice cuts straight through the panic spiraling inside me.
Not because I fully believe him.
Because he believes himself.
Completely.
“How?” I ask quietly.
His jaw tightens slightly. “Because he’d have to get through me first.”
The words hit with enough force to steal my breath for a second.
God.
The storm outside intensifies, wind slamming hard against the cabin walls while shadows move across the windows from the trees swaying outside.
Or maybe not just the trees.
I can’t tell anymore.
Rhett stands slowly and walks toward the fireplace, setting the rifle within reach before crouching to stir the dying embers back to life. Orange light flickers across the room gradually, throwing sharp shadows over the rough planes of his face.
“You should’ve stayed in Seattle,” he mutters.
I blink. “What?”
His gaze lifts briefly to mine. “Safer there.”
Something about that irritates me enough to cut through the fear.
“You say that like I intentionally signed up for a stalker.”
“You signed up to chase dangerous people.”
“That’s my job.”
“And now somebody’s chasing you back.”
I glare at him from the bed. “You’re being really comforting right now.”
“You want comfort or honesty?”
“Maybe both?”
His mouth twitches slightly before he stands again.
The movement draws my attention immediately because Rhett Maddox is unfairly attractive in low firelight. Barefoot. Henley stretched tight across his chest. Scarred hands gripping a rifle like it belongs there.
Dangerous mountain man starter pack.
Which would probably be less distracting if somebody wasn’t potentially stalking us outside.
“You’re staring again,” he says.
I fold my arms. “You’re impossible.”
“You didn’t answer.”