Maeve's POV.
I didn’t expect the knock.
Not because I thought the night would be quiet...quiet had never lived on this land...but because he had just left. Hours ago. Long enough for the house to settle back into its usual sounds. Long enough for me to tell myself I was done with him for the night.
The knock came again. Firm. Controlled. Not urgent. Not polite either.
My hand went to the knife on the counter before my brain caught up. Old habit. Survival habit. I crossed the kitchen and opened the door without calling out.
Aaron stood there.
For half a second, I just stared at him.
He looked… wrong. Not injured. Not weak. Just stripped down in a way that made my chest tighten before I could stop it. His hair was damp from the cold. His coat was open like he’d forgotten to close it.
