Ronan watched from the shadows of the cabin’s main hall, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. It had been only three days since Mia’s first attempt to escape in the dark. He was sure she was planning another but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t slip passed him even in his sleep.

  The rain lashed against the windows, casting erratic patterns of light against the walls, but he hardly noticed. His focus was fully on Mia.

  She was pacing, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could hold together the frayed edges of her world. She was angry. Confused. Hurt. And she had every right to be. He had seen the way her father had dropped the truth like a stone on glass, shattering everything she thought she knew.

  Gregory Vance had kept his daughter in the dark for years, but Ronan had known from the start that it wouldn’t last. Secrets had a way of clawing their way to the surface. Now that they had, Mia was on the verge of unraveling.

  She turned sharply, her gaze landing on him like a knife. “You know, don’t you? About my mom and who killed her. What killed her.”

  Ronan knew this confrontation was coming. How could it not after her life was turned upside down? He met her eyes but didn’t answer immediately. He had learned long ago that silence could be more powerful than words. But Mia wasn’t the kind of woman to let silence settle.

  “Answer me,” she demanded, stepping closer. “You know who killed my mother. You know why they’re after me. You know everything.”

  His jaw tightened. “Not everything.”

  Her laugh was humorless. “Don’t give me that. You stood there while my father dropped that bomb on me and didn’t look even remotely surprised. So either you’re a damn good actor, or you knew.”

  Ronan exhaled through his nose. “I knew pieces. Not the whole story.”

  “That’s not good enough.” She took another step forward, her chin tilted in defiance. “What are you not telling me?”

  Ronan’s instincts screamed at him to hold his ground, but something about the fire in her eyes made him waver. He had seen Mia Vance’s picture in reports before he ever met her. He had studied her from a distance. But none of that prepared him for the force of her presence.

  “You don’t understand the danger you’re in,” he said finally, his voice measured. “Knowing more won’t change that.”

  Her eyes flashed. “I deserve to know.”

  She moved as if to shove past him, but the moment she did, he caught her wrist. It was instinct more than anything, a reaction born from years of training. He hadn’t meant to grab her so forcefully, but the second their skin touched a warmth surged through him, spreading from the point of contact like wildfire. It wasn’t just heat but the bond, flaring to life by her smooth skin under his palm. He breathed her in . He saw the moment she felt it too, the way her breath hitched and her pulse jumped beneath his fingers.

  Ronan forced himself to release her, but the warmth lingered, unsettling and impossible to ignore.

  Mia took a shaky step back, her hand pressing against the wrist he had touched. “What was that?” she whispered.

  Ronan didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the truth was another bomb that would shatter her world further. He had to keep his distance.

  “You need to rest,” he said instead, forcing his voice into something neutral.

  She let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Because sleep is going to fix this.”

  “It won’t,” he admitted. “But exhaustion makes people reckless. And recklessness will get you killed.”

  She scoffed. “You think I’m reckless?”

  Ronan held her gaze, his expression unreadable. “I think you’re desperate for control. And I don’t blame you.”

  Something shifted in her expression. A flicker of vulnerability beneath all the fire. But just as quickly, she buried it.

  “I don’t need you to analyze me,” she muttered.

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  “I’m not,” he said simply. “I’m stating a fact.”

  She turned away, arms tightening around herself again. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The storm outside howled through the trees, the wind rattling the windows like an omen.

  Finally, she sighed. “Why are they after me? What did I do?”

  Ronan hesitated. He had given her father his word that he wouldn’t reveal everything. But standing here, watching her fight to hold herself together, he found himself breaking that promise.

  “You didn’t do anything, Mia. This is because of your mother,” he said.

  Mia stiffened. “My mom is gone. It can’t be about her.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Your mother wasn’t just a victim. She was a target.”

  Mia turned sharply, eyes wide. “What?”

  Ronan nodded. “She wasn’t killed at random. She was hunted.”

  The color drained from Mia’s face. She staggered back until she hit the edge of the couch, gripping it as if the ground beneath her had tilted. “That doesn’t make sense. She was just… she was just my mom.”

  “She was more than that,” Ronan said gently. “And whether you like it or not, that puts a target on you too.”

  Mia shook her head. “No. This—this isn’t real. You’re making it sound like some conspiracy.”

  Ronan didn’t correct her. Because in some ways, that was exactly what it was.

  Mia’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “I deserve the truth, all of it. No more half-answers. No more lies.”

  Ronan took a slow step toward her. “The truth will change everything.”

  “Good,” she shot back. “Because everything I thought I knew was a lie anyway.”

  Ronan clenched his fists at his sides, resisting the instinct to pull her closer. Every fiber of his being urged him to hold her, to soothe the panic rising in her chest, but he couldn’t afford that indulgence. She wasn’t ready for the truth—not about what she was, not about what they were.

  Mia’s breath came in sharp, uneven pulls. She was trying to hold onto her anger, but he saw the cracks in her composure, the way her fingers trembled where she gripped the bottom of her hoodie. She wanted answers. She wanted the world to make sense again.

  But the truth would only unravel her further.

  “Mia.” His voice was low, steady. “I know you want answers, but right now, the best thing you can do is stop chasing them.”

  Her gaze snapped up to his, eyes blazing. “How can you say that? My mother was hunted—murdered—and you expect me to just let it go?”

  “For now, yes.”

  She scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s not happening.”

  He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Her scent curled around him, sending a fresh wave of heat through his body. His wolf prowled just beneath his skin, restless and aching for her, but he held himself in check.

  “I need you to trust me,” he said quietly.

  Mia laughed, the sound hollow. “Trust you? The guy who’s been keeping secrets since the moment I met him?”

  “Yes.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “Because whether you believe it or not, I’m the only thing standing between you and the people who want you dead.”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. She wasn’t stupid—far from it. He could see the war in her mind, the part of her that wanted to fight against him and the part that understood she wouldn’t last a day without his protection.

  “If you won’t tell me everything, then why should I trust you?” she asked, voice quieter now.

  Ronan hesitated, then exhaled. “Because I’m not your enemy.”

  Silence stretched between them, heavy and charged.

  Mia crossed her arms, her jaw set. “Then what are you?”

  Ronan felt the weight of her words, of everything left unspoken between them. His instincts screamed for him to tell her the truth, to let her understand why he couldn’t stay away from her, why every second without her felt like a knife lodged in his chest.

  But she wasn’t ready.

  “I’m someone who wants to keep you alive,” he said instead. “Your father hired me to do that. It’s what I’m best at, and what I will do no matter what as long as you’re in my protection.”

  Mia studied him for a long moment, then let out a slow breath. “So what now?”

  “Now, we lie low. My team—my people—they’re working on taking down the threat. But until then, we need to stay off the radar.”

  Mia chewed her lip, considering. “And you expect me to just sit here and do nothing?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I expect you to be smart. To work with me instead of against me.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “And if I agree?”

  “Then we do this together.” The words tasted foreign on his tongue. He wasn’t used to negotiating with clients—especially not someone who made his control slip with every glance, every breath. But she wasn’t just anyone. She was his mate, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  Mia studied him, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll stay. I’ll—” She hesitated, as if forcing herself to say the word. “I’ll work with you.”

  Ronan nodded, relief loosening the tightness in his chest. “Good.”

  Mia lifted a brow. “But don’t think for a second that this lets you or my dad off the hook. I’m still mad at you.”

  Amusement flickered in his chest. “Noted.”

  But deep down, he knew that wasn’t true. Because no matter how much she fought it, no matter how much he tried to resist—something was pulling them together.

  And soon, neither of them would be able to fight it.