The cabin is *too* quiet.
The fire *crackles* in the hearth, the scent of *pine* and *blood* and *medicine* thick in the air. Knox is *still* asleep on the couch, his dark eyes *closed*, his breath *steady*, his hand *warm* in mine.
I *watch* him, my heart *pounding*, my mind *racing*.
*Fuck.*
I *hate* this.
I *hate* him.
I *hate* all of them.
But *f**k*—
I *love* them too.
And that *terrifies* me.
Because if I *lose* them…
*Fuck.*
I can’t *think* about that.
Not now.
Not *ever*.
---
The door *creaks* open.
Zane *steps* in, his gray eyes *cold*, his posture *rigid*. The scent of *blood* and *dirt* clings to him, his knuckles *bruised*, his lip *split*. He *nods* at me, his voice a dark command. *"He *alive*?"*
I glare at him, my voice a snarl. *"Barely."*
His gray eyes *
