Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
“You don’t get to claim me like that,” I say, but my voice is thinner than I want it to be.
“I’m not asking.”
“You don’t—”
“Maddie.”
My name drops between us, heavier this time, rougher.
And I feel it.
That shift again.
The same one from before.
Only sharper now.
More dangerous.
“You ran,” he says.
I stiffen. “I already said I wasn’t going to—”
“You left a note and ran.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You made yourself easier to find.”
The truth of that stings.
I hate that it does.
“I didn’t know he was this close.”
“I did.”
I blink. “You did?”
“I had a feeling.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
His jaw tightens. “I was trying to confirm it.”
“By not telling me?” I shoot back. “That’s your version of protection?”
“My version of protection is making sure you don’t panic before I know what we’re dealing with.”
“I wasn’t panicking.”
“You ran.”
Silence slams down between us.
Because he’s right.
Because I did.
“Don’t do that again,” he says.
It’s not loud.
Not harsh.
But it’s not a suggestion either.
I cross my arms. “You don’t get to—”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the only one here who knows how to handle him.”
“That’s not—”
“And because you’re not thinking clearly when you’re scared.”
My eyes flash. “I am thinking clearly.”
“No,” he says. “You’re reacting.”
“I had a plan.”
“You had fear.”
The words hit hard.
Too hard.
Because they’re true.
Because I hate that they’re true.
“You don’t get to decide what I feel,” I say, but there’s less fight behind it now.
“I don’t,” he agrees. “But I can see it.”
I look away.
Because I don’t want him to.
Because I don’t want him to see how close I am to losing it again.
A branch snaps somewhere deeper in the trees.
This time, Ethan doesn’t even flinch.
His entire body just shifts. Locks in.
Like something inside him just clicked into place.
“Stay here,” he says.
“No.”
His head turns slightly, just enough to look at me.
“Don’t argue with me right now.”
“Then don’t give me orders.”
His gaze sharpens.
“You want to help?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then you stay where I can see you.”
“I’m not—”
“Or I take you back to the cabin and lock you inside.”
My pulse spikes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
The challenge sits heavy between us.
I hold his gaze.
So does he.
And then—
I exhale.
Sharp.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Good.”
I hate that word.
I hate how easily it gets a reaction out of me.
But I don’t push again.
Not this time.
Because something tells me he’s not bluffing.
Because something tells me this isn’t the moment to test him.
He moves before I can say anything else, slipping through the trees like he’s part of them, silent and precise in a way that makes it clear this isn’t new to him.
This is what he does.
What he is.
I stay where I am.
Barely.
Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to follow, to not let him out of my sight, to not stand here alone in the dark where I already know someone else has been.
But I stay.
Because he told me to.
Because I trust him.
Voices carry through the trees a few minutes later.
Low.
Familiar.
Not one.
Several.
I turn slightly, tension snapping tight in my chest as figures emerge from the darkness.
Flint.
Hudson.
Zane.
Slate.
They move like Ethan.
Like they belong here.
Like the mountain answers when they call.
Hudson’s gaze flicks to me first, taking me in quickly, assessing. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say automatically.
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Where is he?” Slate asks.
“Tracking,” I answer.
Zane lets out a low whistle. “He called us up here—he doesn’t like that you ran.”
“I didn’t—” I start, then stop.
Because I did.
Because they already know it.
Flint’s gaze sharpens slightly. “You’re still standing, so he didn’t kill you for it.”
“Funny,” I mutter.
Slate smirks faintly. “That means he’s in a good mood.”
“Is this him in a good mood?” I ask.
Hudson’s mouth curves. “You don’t want to see him in a bad one.”
My pulse spikes again.
Not entirely from fear.
The sound of movement cuts through the conversation.
Ethan.
He steps back into view a second later, his expression just as cold, just as focused—but now there’s something else under it.
Purpose.
“Found him?” Hudson asks.
Ethan nods once. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
Ethan’s gaze flicks to me briefly.
Then back to the others.
“Close enough,” he says.
The way he says it sends a chill down my spine.
Not because I’m scared of the man in the woods.
But because I’m starting to understand something else entirely.
He’s going after him.
And nothing is going to stop him.
Chapter 14
Ethan
Ifind him faster than I should.
That’s how sloppy he is.
That’s how far gone.
He stopped thinking like a man who wants to stay hidden the second he decided she belonged to him.
Now he’s thinking like someone who believes he’s already won.
That’s the mistake.
I track his tracks through the lower ridge, cutting through the denser part of the forest where the ground dips and the trees close in tighter. The air shifts as I move—colder, quieter—and every instinct I have locks into place, sharp and focused. The others follow behind me, but they know better than to crowd me now. This part?
This part is mine.
My jaw tightens.
I move faster.
Branches scrape against my jacket as I push through the last line of trees, stepping into a clearing just in time to see him clearly.