Maddie
Idon’t realize how badly I miscalculated until I see his face.
Ethan isn’t loud when he’s angry.
He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t snap.
He goes still.
And that?
That’s worse.
We’re halfway back to the cabin when it happens—when something in him shifts so sharply it feels like the air drops ten degrees.
“What?” I ask, breath still uneven from trying to keep up with him.
He doesn’t answer.
Doesn’t even look at me.
He just stops.
Drops low.
And studies the ground like the forest just told him something it wasn’t supposed to.
“Ethan,” I push, stepping closer. “What is it?”
His hand comes out without looking, catching my wrist, holding me in place.
Not rough.
But not gentle either.
“Don’t move.”
My pulse spikes. “Why?”
“Because he was here.”
The words land like a strike.
I freeze instantly.
“Where?” I whisper.
His grip tightens just slightly as he angles his body in front of mine, putting himself between me and whatever he’s seeing.
“Close,” he says.
“How close?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
That’s my first real warning.
Because Ethan always answers.
“Ethan.”
His head lifts slowly, gaze scanning the tree line, sharp and calculating, and when he finally looks at me—
There’s nothing soft left in his expression.
Nothing controlled in the way I’ve seen it before.
This is something else.
Something colder.
“Close enough to follow you,” he says.
My stomach drops.
“He tracked me out here?”
“Yeah.”
I swallow hard, my throat tight. “Then we need to—”
“We’re done reacting.”
The words cut me off.
Clean.
Final.
I blink at him. “What?”
“We’re done letting him set the pace.”
There’s something in his voice now I haven’t heard before.
Not just control.
Not just confidence.
Something darker.
Something that makes my pulse spike for an entirely different reason.
“You’re scaring me,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Good.”
That shouldn’t make my breath hitch.
It does.
“Why is that good?” I ask, quieter now.
“Because it means you’ll listen.”
I stare at him.
Because this isn’t the same Ethan from earlier.
This isn’t the man who watched me like a problem he wanted to solve.
This is something else entirely.
“You said I wasn’t prey,” I say.
His gaze locks onto mine.
“You’re not.”
“Then stop treating me like I am.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally just told me not to move.”
“And you didn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“It means you trust me,” he cuts in.
The words land before I can stop them.
Because he’s right.
Because I did.
Because I didn’t even think about it.
My jaw tightens. “That doesn’t mean I’m okay with you turning into… whatever this is.”
His mouth curves slightly.
Not amused.
Not soft.
Sharp.
“You haven’t seen anything yet.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
Not entirely fear.
Not entirely anything I want to name.
“Then maybe you should explain it to me,” I say, lifting my chin. “Because right now, it feels like you’re about to do something reckless.”
“Not reckless.”
“Then what?”
“Effective.”
The word sits heavy between us.
I don’t like how it sounds.
I don’t like how calm he is when he says it.
“He’s dangerous,” I say.
“I know.”
“And you’re just going to—what? Hunt him?”
His gaze doesn’t waver.
“Yes.”
The answer is immediate.
Certain.
And it hits me all over again how serious this is.
“This isn’t a game, Ethan.”
“No.”
“You could get hurt.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not even hesitating.”
“No.”
Frustration flares hot in my chest. “Why not?”
His eyes flick over me, slow and deliberate, and the look on his face—
It shifts something in me I don’t want to acknowledge.
“Because he came onto my land,” he says quietly. “And he touched what’s mine.”
My breath catches.
“That’s not—”
“It is.”
The words come out low.
Final.
And for a second, I forget what I was about to argue.
Forget everything except the way he’s looking at me.
Like he’s already decided something I haven’t agreed to.
“You don’t get to claim me like that,” I say, but my voice is thinner than I want it to be.
“I’m not asking.”
“You don’t—”
“Maddie.”
My name drops between us, heavier this time, rougher.
And I feel it.
That shift again.
The same one from before.
Only sharper now.
More dangerous.
“You ran,” he says.
I stiffen. “I already said I wasn’t going to—”
“You left a note and ran.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You made yourself easier to find.”
The truth of that stings.
I hate that it does.
“I didn’t know he was this close.”
“I did.”
I blink. “You did?”
“I had a feeling.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
His jaw tightens. “I was trying to confirm it.”
“By not telling me?” I shoot back. “That’s your version of protection?”
“My version of protection is making sure you don’t panic before I know what we’re dealing with.”
“I wasn’t panicking.”
“You ran.”
Silence slams down between us.
Because he’s right.
Because I did.
“Don’t do that again,” he says.
It’s not loud.
Not harsh.
But it’s not a suggestion either.
I cross my arms. “You don’t get to—”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the only one here who knows how to handle him.”
“That’s not—”
“And because you’re not thinking clearly when you’re scared.”
My eyes flash. “I am thinking clearly.”
“No,” he says. “You’re reacting.”
“I had a plan.”
“You had fear.”
The words hit hard.
Too hard.
Because they’re true.
Because I hate that they’re true.
“You don’t get to decide what I feel,” I say, but there’s less fight behind it now.
“I don’t,” he agrees. “But I can see it.”
I look away.
Because I don’t want him to.
Because I don’t want him to see how close I am to losing it again.
A branch snaps somewhere deeper in the trees.
This time, Ethan doesn’t even flinch.
His entire body just shifts. Locks in.
Like something inside him just clicked into place.
“Stay here,” he says.
“No.”
His head turns slightly, just enough to look at me.
“Don’t argue with me right now.”
“Then don’t give me orders.”
His gaze sharpens.
“You want to help?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Then you stay where I can see you.”
“I’m not—”
“Or I take you back to the cabin and lock you inside.”
My pulse spikes. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
The challenge sits heavy between us.
I hold his gaze.
So does he.
And then—
I exhale.
Sharp.
“Fine,” I mutter.
“Good.”
I hate that word.
I hate how easily it gets a reaction out of me.
But I don’t push again.
Not this time.
Because something tells me he’s not bluffing.
Because something tells me this isn’t the moment to test him.
He moves before I can say anything else, slipping through the trees like he’s part of them, silent and precise in a way that makes it clear this isn’t new to him.
This is what he does.
What he is.
I stay where I am.
Barely.
Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to follow, to not let him out of my sight, to not stand here alone in the dark where I already know someone else has been.
But I stay.
Because he told me to.
Because I trust him.
Voices carry through the trees a few minutes later.
Low.
Familiar.
Not one.
Several.
I turn slightly, tension snapping tight in my chest as figures emerge from the darkness.
Flint.
Hudson.
Zane.
Slate.
They move like Ethan.
Like they belong here.
Like the mountain answers when they call.
Hudson’s gaze flicks to me first, taking me in quickly, assessing. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say automatically.
He doesn’t look convinced.
“Where is he?” Slate asks.
“Tracking,” I answer.
Zane lets out a low whistle. “He called us up here—he doesn’t like that you ran.”
“I didn’t—” I start, then stop.
Because I did.
Because they already know it.
Flint’s gaze sharpens slightly. “You’re still standing, so he didn’t kill you for it.”
“Funny,” I mutter.
Slate smirks faintly. “That means he’s in a good mood.”
“Is this him in a good mood?” I ask.
Hudson’s mouth curves. “You don’t want to see him in a bad one.”
My pulse spikes again.
Not entirely from fear.
The sound of movement cuts through the conversation.
Ethan.
He steps back into view a second later, his expression just as cold, just as focused—but now there’s something else under it.
Purpose.
“Found him?” Hudson asks.
Ethan nods once. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
Ethan’s gaze flicks to me briefly.
Then back to the others.
“Close enough,” he says.
The way he says it sends a chill down my spine.
Not because I’m scared of the man in the woods.
But because I’m starting to understand something else entirely.
He’s going after him.
And nothing is going to stop him.