Chapter 14
14
LILY
“ Y ou want to play truth or dare?” I gasp at the three men lounging around the coffee table. An empty whiskey bottle lies on its side at the center, waiting to be used.
“Why not?” James grins, leaning forward from his spot directly across from me on the semi-circular couch that faces the huge fireplace. “Perfect game for a storm-locked night.”
I reach for my bourbon and coke, taking a sip. I don’t normally drink much, but tonight calls for something to take the edge off. The fire crackles in the background, casting dancing shadows across the room and providing most of the light, along with a few strategically placed lamps. Thor is snoring away in front of the fire, not bothered by our chatter.
“Seriously?” I laugh, though I can’t deny I’m excited. “Are we fifteen?”
“What’s the matter, Lily?” Archer asks from his position on the couch between James and Hunter. “Scared?”
“Of you three?” I quirk an eyebrow. “Terrified.” My tone makes it clear I’m anything but.
Hunter chuckles beside me, his body radiating warmth even with the few inches of space between us. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Fine.” I grab another chocolate chip cookie from the bowl before the guys devour them all. “But I reserve the right to walk away when this inevitably gets out of control.”
“We all know how this goes, right?” James asks, his dark gaze gleaming with mischief. “We’ve all played before?”
All three men turn to look at me expectantly.
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I’ve played truth or dare before. I’m twenty-four, and I did go to school, you know.”
“Just checking,” James smirks. “But this game is my own variation, as it includes the spin of the bottle. Whoever it points to gets asked ‘truth or dare’ by the spinner. No passes, no chickening out.”
“And what happens in the cabin stays in the cabin,” Archer adds with a wink.
“Original,” I deadpan, but I can’t help the flutter in my stomach. This is probably a terrible idea, but after two days trapped inside with mounting tension, I need some kind of release, even if it’s just the thrill of a party game.
“Ladies first,” James says.
I take another fortifying sip of my drink, then lean forward and spin the bottle. It rotates several times before slowing to point at Archer and the base to me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, meeting his gaze.
“Truth,” Archer answers, leaning back confidently. Messy hair frames his face. I hadn’t noticed before how his sharp cheekbones bring out how damn gorgeous he is.
I consider what to ask. Something not too tame but not immediately crossing lines either.
“What’s the most number of orgasms you’ve given a girl in one night?” The question comes out bolder than I intended, and I blame the bourbon.
Hunter coughs beside me, clearly surprised at my choice.
Archer’s grin widens slowly. “Seven. Would’ve been eight, but she passed out.”
“Bullshit,” James laughs, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.
“Swear to God,” Archer holds up his hand. “Ask Vanessa.”
Hunter goes rigid beside me. “Vanessa?” he repeats. “Who dumped me?”
The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Ouch!
Archer’s eyes widen fractionally. “Shit, man, I forgot?—”
“You fucked my ex?” Hunter’s tone remains eerily calm.
“It was after you broke up,” Archer adds quickly. “Way after.”
“How long after?” Hunter demands.
Archer lifts his chin. “Like... two damn years later.”
“You’re lucky she means nothing to me, and you can do better than that,” Hunter says, but there’s no real heat behind it anymore. He shakes his head and takes a long drink.
Does this mean Vanessa still holds onto his heart? I sure as hell don’t care, yet there’s fire climbing up my neck to see the passion in his attack.
“Wow, you guys have quite the crowd of girlfriends,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn’t surprise me that they have a caravan of girlfriends in their past. I’ve had five boyfriends in my time and not one worked out.
All three men look at me as if suddenly remembering I’m there, witnessing their dirty laundry.
“It’s the damn past,” Hunter says with a shrug. “We were younger and stupider.”
“Speak for yourself,” Archer grins, reaching for the bottle. “I’m still as stupid as ever.”
The raised voices must have woken Thor from his spot by the fire and he stretches, then hops up on the couch near me, and flops his head down, lying on his side, already sleeping in seconds. Someone has a good life.
The men are still chuckling as Archer spins, and it lands on James.
“Truth or dare?” Archer asks.
“Truth,” James answers, taking a sip of his whiskey. The amber liquid glints as he raises the glass, highlighting his sharp jawline and the slight stubble darkening it.
“Worst thing you’ve ever done during sex that you don’t regret?” Archer asks with a gleam in his stare.
James considers this, his expression darkening in a way that sends shivers down my spine.
“Tied a girl up in an abandoned factory,” he says finally. “Left her there for hours while I went out, came back, and finished what we started.”
“Jesus, James,” Hunter mutters.
“She asked me to,” James adds with a half-smile. “Begged, actually. Said the fear of not knowing if I’d return made everything more intense.”
I shift in my seat, both disturbed and intrigued. These aren’t the kind of men I usually spend time with, that’s for damn sure.
James spins the bottle. It lands on him and Hunter. I’m kind of relieved the bottle seems to be ignoring me for now.
“Truth or dare?” James asks.
“Truth,” Hunter says. Heat from his body radiates toward me, his smell the faint woodsy scent of him. It’s addictive.
“Have you ever thought about fucking someone while you were fucking someone else?” James asks bluntly.
I chuckle. “I’m seeing a pattern here. Too scared for dares, hey?”
James winks at me as if he knows something I don’t… like he’s saving the dares for me. I take a long sip of my drink.
“Yes,” Hunter answers.
“Details, man,” Archer presses. “Who was the fantasy? Who was the reality?”
Hunter runs a hand through his sandy hair, making it stick up slightly. “No details needed.” He grins evilly.
I try to picture Hunter—solid, steady Hunter—fantasizing about one woman while fucking another, and I see him doing it. He has a dark edge to him.
He takes the bottle and spins. It points at me.
My heart skips a beat. “Truth,” I say quickly, not trusting what dare he might come up with.
Hunter looks at me, his amber eyes reflecting the firelight. “What’s your darkest fantasy?”
“Pass,” I say automatically.
“No passes,” James reminds me, looking entirely too interested in my answer.
I glare at him, then look back at Hunter. All three men are staring at me expectantly. The bourbon in my system gives me just enough courage to think I can answer.
“Being completely at someone else’s mercy,” I admit quietly. “Blindfolded, tied up, not knowing what’s coming next or who’s touching me.” I feel my cheeks flush, but force myself to maintain eye contact with Hunter. “Complete surrender of control.”
The room falls silent except for the crackling of the fire. I can practically feel the shift in energy, the sudden tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
Hunter’s pupils dilate slightly. “Interesting,” is all he says, but the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
I quickly reach for the bottle, desperate to shift attention away from myself. I spin it hard, watching it whirl several times before stopping on Archer.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, praying he says truth.
“Dare,” he counters with a challenging smile. “I’m not hiding behind truths all night.”
Damn it. I rack my brain for something that won’t escalate things too far.
“I dare you to do your best impression of the person to your right,” I say, nodding toward James.
Archer grins and immediately straightens his posture, adopting a brooding expression. He fixes me with an intense stare.
“I’m James,” he says in a deep, exaggerated voice. “I like to pretend I’m mysterious and dangerous because it gets me laid. I own seventeen identical black sweaters because I read once that Steve Jobs did the same thing, and I secretly wish I could pull off a turtleneck.”
Hunter bursts out laughing while James scowls.
“Fuck, I don’t sound like that,” James protests, but his lips twitch with suppressed amusement. “And for the record,” he adds. “I own twelve black sweaters, not seventeen.”
I laugh, genuinely amused at their banter.
Archer spins the bottle, and it lands on facing me and the base on Archer this time.
“This thing is rigged,” I state, but no one else is protesting.
“Truth or dare?” he asks, smirking.
I hesitate. Truth has already gotten me into trouble once. “Dare,” I say, bracing myself.
Archer’s smile widens. “I dare you to take off your top.”
My gaze widens, and I hear Hunter inhale sharply beside me. James leans forward, studying my reaction carefully.
For a moment, I consider refusing, but there’s a challenge in Archer’s facial expression that awakens something defiant in me. I hold his gaze as I set down my drink, then grasp the hem of my sweater. With deliberate slowness, I pull it over my head, revealing the black tank top I’m wearing underneath.
Archer’s expression shifts from triumph to disappointment to appreciation in rapid succession. The tank reveals more of my shoulders and collarbone and my bra straps but is otherwise perfectly modest. All three men stare at me, and I can’t help the small thrill of satisfaction that runs through me at having subverted Archer’s expectations.
“Clever girl,” James murmurs, raising his glass in a mock toast.
I grasp the bottle and spin it hard. It whirls several times before landing on Archer.
“Truth or dare?” I ask sweetly.
“Dare,” he says immediately. “I’m not backing down.”
“I dare you to take off your pants,” I reply, feeling a rush of boldness. I assume he’ll have boxers underneath—a taste of his own medicine.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Archer stands and unbuttons his jeans, shoving them down in one fluid motion. My eyes widen as I realize he’s not wearing anything underneath.
A huge, half-erect cock stands there, almost at face level with me from across the table, and I find myself instantly looking away.
“God!” Yet I can’t stop thinking of how big he is, how he manscaped, and the boldness that has me blushing.
He’s completely commando. He grins at my shocked expression as I glance up.
“Jesus Christ, Arch!” Hunter exclaims while James bursts into laughter. “Put that away before you poke someone’s eye out!”
I quickly avert my gaze again because I can’t stop staring at it. “Okay, bad dare,” I stammer, feeling my face flush crimson. “Put them back on.”
“What’s the matter, Lily?” Archer teases, taking his time pulling his jeans back up. “Surprised?”
“Traumatized is more like it,” I retort, but I can’t help laughing despite my embarrassment. James just reclines there, grinning. Bastard is enjoying seeing me squirm.
“Your turn to spin, Archer,” he reminds him.
“I think I need another drink first,” I mutter, downing the rest of my bourbon and coke.
James gets up to refresh our drinks, returning with mine. I take a sip and nearly choke at the burn of the significantly stronger drink.
“Trying to get me drunk?” I ask.
“Just enhancing the experience,” he replies with a wink.
James keeps his attention on me while Archer spins the bottle. It lands between Hunter and me, pointing slightly more toward me.
“Truth or dare?” Hunter asks.
Something in his tone makes me hesitate. “Truth,” I say, deciding it’s safer.
He leans closer, his knee brushing against mine. “Have you ever fantasized about more than one man at once?”
I nearly choke on my drink. His question hits too close to home, especially considering my attraction to all three of them.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Fine. Yes.”
“We need details,” Archer presses, leaning forward.
“That wasn’t part of the question,” I counter, grabbing the bottle and spinning it before they can argue.
It lands on James and the base on me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, meeting his gaze steadily.
“Truth,” he says.
The alcohol emboldens me. This is my chance to get some answers. “Have you ever been to prison?”
The room goes suddenly still. Hunter and Archer exchange glances, clearly surprised by my question.
“Yes,” James answers simply, his expression unreadable.
“How long were you in there for?” I press, ignoring the confusion from the others.
“Eighteen months.”
“Did you kill someone?” I tense all over.
James’s jaw tightens. “No. I was framed and wrongly blamed for a theft I didn’t commit.”
“You often lie to people?” I continue, the words coming rapid fire now.
“Uh, seems like a lot of questions without any bottle spinning,” Archer interjects, looking between us. “Have the rules of the game changed?”
I ignore him, my focus entirely on James, who hasn’t broken eye contact.
“Only when I don’t want to scare someone away,” he answers quietly. “When I want a chance to properly tell them the truth later.”
“So you’re okay with leading someone on, making them believe you’re something you’re not?” I challenge.
“What the hell is going on?” Hunter asks, looking between us. “Did you two know each other before this weekend?”
“No,” James says firmly, at the exact moment I say, “Yes.”
Archer’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, this just got interesting.”
“We’ve been texting for weeks,” I clarify, still glaring at James. “He never mentioned he was in prison.”
“You two were texting?” Hunter asks, something unidentifiable flashing across his face. “Oh, so that was the burner phone you got busted with in prison? The one they threw you into isolation an extra week before the lawyers got you out?”
James shoots Hunter a warning look, but the damage is already done.
“It started with a wrong number,” I explain, the words tumbling out now that the secret’s in the open. “I texted him, thinking it was to my sister. We got to talking, and then... we just kept going.”
James appears uncharacteristically flustered. “Lily?—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “You flirted with me for weeks. I told you things I’ve never told anyone else. And all that time, you were lying about who you were.”
“I wasn’t lying about who I was,” James argues, leaning forward. “Just... certain details.”
“Like the fact you were in prison?” I counter, my knee bouncing—nerves, anticipation, and dread all twisting inside me. A voice in my head warns me not to do this now, but I can’t stop. Not when the anger has been building for so long. Not when he disappeared without a word. Not when he never told me the truth.
The room goes quiet. Hunter and Archer exchange surprised glances.
“That’s not something you drop into casual conversation,” James murmurs. “‘Hey, by the way, I’m getting out of prison soon. Want to keep texting?’“
The words hit hard, knocking the air from my lungs. I stare at him, my throat tight, my pulse pounding in my ears. The messages—the late-night conversations that had felt so real, so safe—had all been built on a lie. I had let myself fall, let my guard slip, believing I knew him. And now, I don’t know if anything between us was ever real.
Shame burns through me, hot and unforgiving. How could I have been so naive? How could I have let him in without ever questioning who he really was? My heart clenches painfully, the weight of betrayal settling deep in my chest.
Had he been laughing at me all this time? Amused by how easily I had trusted him?
I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat refuses to go away. I want to scream at him, to demand why—why he thought I didn’t deserve the truth—but I can’t find the words. Because underneath the betrayal, underneath the anger, there’s something far worse.
This hurts.
More than it should. More than I want to admit.
“I was going to tell you,” James insists. “I wanted to explain in person. I had plans to visit your bakery yesterday, then this storm hit. And here we are.”
“So, this has nothing to do with the treasure map?” Archer interrupts, looking confused.
“No,” James and I say in unison.
“This is about him leading me on for weeks,” I continue. “Making me believe he was someone he’s not.”
“I never lied about who I am,” James repeats. “Everything I told you about me—my likes, my thoughts, my feelings—all of that was real.”
“Except the part where you were in prison,” I point out.
The damage was already done. The words are out, cracking the fragile thread of control I’ve been clinging to. My chest tightens, the weight of it pressing down, suffocating.
How am I supposed to believe him now? How am I supposed to trust that he’s innocent—if he even is—when he’s already proven he can keep something this huge from me? I had built an image of him in my mind, a version I felt safe with, someone who had been honest in ways that mattered. But was it ever real? Or had I fallen for a stranger who only gave me pieces of himself?
James exhales, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression unreadable.
“Yes,” he concedes. “Except that.”
The room falls silent as the truth settles between us, thick and heavy. Can I forgive this? Can I even begin to believe that the man in front of me is someone I can still trust?
Because right now, I don’t know if I can.
“Well,” Hunter says finally, clapping his hands together. “This is all very dramatic, but can we get back to the game? Or should we just start throwing punches now?”
His attempt at humor breaks some of the tension. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Game,” I say firmly, my heart hammering in my chest, my face feeling like it’s on fire. I really wished I hadn’t asked him those questions in front of the other two, but better to be transparent, right?
“Your spin, James,” Hunter reminds him.
James stays silent at first.
Then he reaches for the bottle, giving it a forceful twist. It spins for what feels like forever before pointing at Archer and the base toward me.
“Truth or dare?” I ask, still feeling the aftershocks of adrenaline from confronting James.
“Dare,” Archer says without hesitation. “Let’s lighten things up.”
I consider for a moment. “I dare you to do your best pickup line on Hunter.”
Archer grins and immediately turns to Hunter, batting his eyelashes dramatically. He slides closer, placing a hand on Hunter’s massive forearm.
“Are you a campfire?” he asks in a husky voice. “Because you’re hot, and I want s’more.”
Hunter shoves him away as we all burst out laughing. Thor beside me grumbles, which is most likely more to do with us probably being too loud for him.
“That was terrible,” Hunter groans.
“But effective,” Archer winks. “You’re blushing, big boy.”
“Fuck off,” Hunter mutters, but he’s smiling.
Archer spins the bottle, which lands on me and him again.
“You’re popular tonight,” James comments.
“Truth or dare, Lily?” Archer asks.
“Dare,” I say, deciding truth is much more dangerous tonight.
Archer’s smile turns wicked. “I dare you to kiss Hunter. Not a peck—full-on, with tongue.”
I laugh nervously. “Is this high school?”
“Do it!” Archer insists.
I look around at their faces—Archer grinning expectantly, James frowning slightly, Hunter stretching his neck with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty.
Then I’m staring at James, the bridge of his now pinched, jawline tight. Part of me wants to make him hurt for lying to me.
“Sure,” I say with forced casualness, setting down my drink and turning to Hunter.
He’s sitting next to me on the couch, his large frame suddenly very close. I turn toward him, hesitating as a thought strikes me.
“The photo upstairs of your grandfather and my grandmother...” I gnaw on my lower lip nervously. “Do you think... are we related?” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Hunter reaches over and gently pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my skin. “I bet my life on it that we’re not. My grandfather shared a lot with me, and he had one love in his life—my grandma—and a lot of business friends. He’s more likely an investor in her bakery.”
I glance at the other two, who study our exchange with curious expressions.
“Nothing wrong with kissing cousins… relatives,” Archer teases with a smirk.
“Fuck you,” Hunter barks, but his hand is already on my arm, pulling me closer, tugging me onto his lap.
I use the momentum to straddle him, finding a surprising amount of bravery for something I want despite the trembling in my limbs.
“Of course,” I laugh nervously. “I mean, if we were siblings, we’d know, and hell no to kissing...”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his knuckles down my cheek in a gesture that’s both reassuring and possessive. There’s still darkness in his words, in his eyes, and part of me isn’t entirely certain. If this comes back to bite me, I’ll be devastated to discover I’m attracted to my brother or cousin or whatever.
“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs, pulling me closer. “Deep breaths, okay?”
My confidence falters. What am I doing? This isn’t me—I don’t straddle near-strangers for dares. But before I can retreat, Hunter’s large hands come up to cup my face, his touch surprisingly gentle for someone so strong.
He leans in slowly, giving me every opportunity to back away. When I don’t, his lips meet mine with the gentlest pressure. The kiss starts soft, exploratory, as if we’re finding our way to each other through darkness. His lips are warmer and softer than I expected, moving against mine with restrained passion.
Then something shifts. Hunter makes a low, growly sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly, the kiss deepens. His hands slide from my face to my waist, then to my back, pulling me closer against him. My body responds instinctively, curving into his, a small sound—embarrassingly close to a purr—escaping my throat.
No one has ever kissed me like this before. It’s consuming, elemental, like being caught in a riptide. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open to him without hesitation. The taste of whiskey and chocolate mingles between us as his tongue strokes against mine, confident but not demanding.
His hands span my back, pressing me closer until I can feel the solid wall of his chest against mine. Beneath me, I can feel his hardening cock, his hips shifting subtly upward. He’s massive everywhere, and the realization sends a jolt of electricity down my spine.
One of his hands tangles in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further. The gentle tug against my scalp draws another sound from me, half-gasp, half-moan. I’m floating, drowning, burning—all at once. My fingers grip his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath his Henley, then slide up to the nape of his neck, where his hair curls against my fingertips.
His mouth moves against mine, his hand lowering to my ass, holding on tight. The heat of him beneath me, the woodsy scent of him filling my lungs with each ragged breath. It feels both endless and too brief. I don’t want it to end.
Someone clears his throat loudly, followed by a nudge against Hunter’s shoulder, shaking us. Hunter and I part reluctantly, both breathing heavily. I lick my lips instinctively, tasting him still, while his gaze tracks the movement with a craving that makes me shiver.
“Fuck, you’re addictive,” Hunter murmurs. “Like the kind of candy that ruins a man—sweet, sinful, and impossible to quit.”
Slowly, I become aware of the room around us again. Archer stares at me, his earlier playfulness replaced by something darker, more primal. James’s eyes burn with what looks distinctly like jealousy, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. The energy in the room has shifted dramatically, a palpable current of desire that makes the air feel thick and charged.
I remain on Hunter’s lap for a moment longer, acutely aware of his arousal pressed against me, twitching, and his hands tight on my waist. His gaze has darkened to the color of amber in shadow, pupils blown wide. He looks like he wants to devour me whole.
“Well,” I finally manage. “That was... something.”
“Something is one word for it,” Archer murmurs, shifting in his seat.
I slowly extricate myself from Hunter’s lap, my legs embarrassingly unsteady as I settle back onto the couch beside him. His hand lingers on my thigh for a moment before reluctantly withdrawing.
James studies the exchange with hooded eyes, swirling the remains of his whiskey before draining the glass in one swallow. The tension in the room has become almost unbearable—unspoken lust hanging in the air between us.
“I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night,” I say, trying for casual but hearing the slight tremor in my words. “Thanks for the game.”
“Running away, Lily?” James asks softly, and there’s something in his tone that makes me want to prove him wrong.
“Not running,” I counter, meeting his gaze steadily. “Just tired.”
“It is getting late,” Hunter agrees, though his expression tells a different story—one where sleep is the furthest thing from his mind.
I stand, gathering my sweater from where I’d tossed it earlier. “Goodnight, boys. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”
Thor is instantly on my heels.
Forcing myself to walk—not run—to the stairs, I sense all three sets of eyes tracking my every movement. Only when I’m out of sight do I allow my composure to crack, hurrying down the hallway to my bedroom. Thor is in my room before I reach it, nudging the door open and scurrying inside. I find him already at the end of my bed, stretched out, ready to sleep.
I close the door behind me and lean against it, my heart thundering against my ribcage. What just happened down there? What was I thinking, kissing Hunter like that in front of the others? And why did it feel so incredibly, addictively good?
I press my fingers to my bruised lips, still tingling from his kiss. I can still taste him, still feel the pressure of his hands on my body. And worse, I can’t stop picturing James and Archer looking at me afterward—like they were imagining themselves in Hunter’s place. But James… fuck, he was fuming.
Good.
He should suffer.
Low voices drift up from downstairs, too muffled to make out words. Are they talking about me? Laughing at how easily I melted for Hunter? Or making plans for who gets to try next?
The most terrifying part is that some small, reckless part of me wouldn’t mind if they were.
I slide down against the door until I’m sitting on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. A soft whine draws my attention as Thor, who pads across the room toward me. His blue eyes watch me with an intelligence that seems almost human as he nudges his head against my arm.
“At least someone’s checking on me,” I whisper, making room for him.
Thor doesn’t hesitate, pushing his large head into my lap with a soft huff. His fur is thick and soft beneath my fingers as I absently scratch behind his ears. He settles against me, a warm, solid presence that grounds me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control.
“You’re amazing for caring so much,” I tell him, burying my fingers in his ruff. “Is this your job? Comforting distressed Omegas after your master is done with them?”
Thor just blinks up at me, his weight a reassuring pressure against my legs.
This storm needs to break soon. A few more days trapped with these three Alpha men, and I might do something truly stupid.
The thought sends a delicious shiver through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with a desire I didn't know I possessed until tonight. Thor seems to sense the change in me, nudging my hand when I stop petting him.
“Sorry, buddy. Just having an existential crisis over here.” I resume stroking his fur, finding comfort in the rhythmic motion. “Your owner has really complicated my life, you know that?”
I need to get a grip. They’re virtual strangers, and at least one of them has already lied to me. This isn’t a romance novel or a fantasy—it’s a precarious situation that could go very wrong, very quickly.
Thor rests his chin on my knee, his steady gaze somehow reassuring. He doesn’t judge me for my conflicted feelings, doesn’t expect me to be anything other than what I am in this moment.
“What would you do?” I ask him quietly. “If you were me?”
He gives a soft woof that makes me smile despite everything.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you'd say.”
But as I push myself up from the floor and move to the bed, Thor padding faithfully beside me.
Thor jumps up onto the end of the bed, turning in a circle before settling down with a contented sigh, his watchful eyes never leaving me. Whatever comes next, at least I'm not facing it completely alone.