Chapter six
412 Words
As Claire stepped into Marisol’s cabin, her eyes immediately wandered across the room, taking in the cluttered yet oddly charming space. Shelves lined with books, jars of herbs, and strange trinkets exuded an air of mystery. But it wasn’t the surroundings that caught Claire’s attention—it was Marisol herself.
Marisol leaned casually against the counter, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulder as she smirked at Ethan. She was effortlessly beautiful, her piercing green eyes sharp and confident, her movements fluid and self-assured. Claire, in contrast, felt acutely aware of her own dirt-streaked face, her tangled hair, and the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.
“Still running around saving humans, I see,” Marisol said, her tone teasing but laced with familiarity. “You always had a soft spot for strays, Ethan.”
Ethan chuckled, the sound light and easy in a way Claire hadn’t heard before. “Some things never change, do they?”
Claire stiffened, crossing her arms over her chest. Strays? Was that how Marisol saw her? She opened her mouth to fire back, but Marisol’s attention had already shifted—leaning closer to Ethan, her fingers brushing a faint scar on his arm.
“This one’s new,” Marisol noted, her voice soft but intimate. “You’ve been keeping busy.”
“Comes with the territory,” Ethan replied, his tone casual, though his gaze flicked briefly to Claire.
Claire felt her cheeks burn, a knot forming in her stomach. There was a history between Ethan and Marisol, that much was obvious. Their banter, the easy way Marisol touched him, the way he didn’t pull away—it all felt like an unspoken conversation she wasn’t part of.
“So,” Claire cut in, her voice sharper than intended, “are we here to get help or to reminisce about the good old days?”
Marisol turned to her, one brow arched as if she’d only just remembered Claire was in the room. “Feisty. I like her,” she said, though the amused smirk that followed felt more dismissive than complimentary.
Claire clenched her jaw, biting back the retort on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t about to let Marisol see how much she was getting under her skin. But when Ethan’s lips quirked in a faint, almost fond smile at Marisol’s comment, Claire’s stomach twisted again.
Whatever history they had, Claire wasn’t sure she liked being the outsider in it.
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