Max came back into the room seconds later, but it felt like longer. Long enough for everything to settle into something cold and real inside my chest. He shut the door behind him harder than necessary, his jaw tight, eyes scanning me quickly like he was checking for something he couldn’t see.
“Did he touch you?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did he get close to you?”
“He was in the doorway,” I said. “Then he stepped in.”
Max swore under his breath, low and controlled, but there was something sharp under it now. Something I hadn’t heard before. Anger. Not the quiet kind. The kind he was holding back.
“There are cameras,” I said quickly, pointing toward the monitors. “He showed me. They’ve been watching me—this whole time—inside the house too.”
Max turned instantly, crossing to the desk. His movem
