The air inside the shack turned to stone.
I hadn’t moved, couldn’t move. My back pressed against the wall, my breath caught somewhere in my throat. Adrian’s hand gripped mine, weak but fierce, his pulse beating fast beneath my fingers.
And then his voice came again—low, unhurried, terrifying in its calmness.
“Emma.”
Daniel.
He stood framed in the doorway, the sun slanting behind him so that his figure was cast in shadow. Broad shoulders filled the opening. His riding boots were streaked with mud, his gloves still on his hands. But it was his eyes that stole my breath—sharp, searching, a predator’s eyes that seemed to strip away the walls of the shack as though they were paper.
I swallowed, my lips dry. “Daniel.”
His name left my mouth like a confession.
He stepped inside. Slowly. D
