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“I’m handling it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You can’t seriously think I’m bringing you.”
“The hell you’re not.”
I shake my head hard. “No. Absolutely not. If this goes bad—”
“When it goes bad.”
“Rhett.”
“You think I’m letting you walk into a trap alone?”
“It might not be a trap.”
His expression turns flat. “That’s adorable.”
I glare at him. “You’re not coming.”
“And you’re not going alone.”
We stare at each other across the cabin, tension crackling hot and sharp between us.
Because this isn’t really about the source anymore.
It’s about him.
About us.
About the fact that somewhere along the way, protecting him started mattering to me almost as much as he protects me.
And that terrifies me more than the stalker ever did.
Because if something happens to Rhett because of me?
I’ll never forgive myself.
Chapter Twelve
Nora
The old ranger station looks exactly like the kind of place women get murdered in documentaries.
That thought hits me the second I kill the Jeep’s engine.
Snow slams sideways through the trees hard enough to rattle the windshield while the abandoned station crouches at the edge of the clearing like something left behind years ago and forgotten on purpose. Half the roof sags under fresh snow. One window is boarded shut. The porch light hangs crooked, swaying slightly in the wind.
No other vehicles.
No lights.
No sign of movement.
My stomach twists anyway.
I grip the steering wheel tighter and glance at my phone.
