Asher did not lead me to a guest room on the far side of the pack house.
He stopped in front of a door only a few steps from his own and pushed it open.
“This will be yours,” he said.
I stepped inside and took a slow look around. The room was large, clean, and sparsely furnished — a wide bed, a dark wooden dresser, a chair by the window, and an adjoining bathroom. It smelled faintly of cedar and fresh sheets. Someone had clearly prepared it in a hurry.
I turned back to him. “You put me next to your room on purpose.”
“Yes.”
No apology. No explanation. Just that single word spoken with quiet finality.
I set my dual blades on the dresser, the soft clink of metal loud in the silence. “I agreed to stay. I didn’t agree to be watched.”
Asher’s golden eyes held mine. “I’m not watching you,
