Because I don’t know why I’m doing this. I tell myself it’s tactical. If she’s with me, I can control the variables. I can keep eyes on her. I can make sure she doesn’t slip out a window and go playing Nancy Drew in the snow. But there’s another reason, and it’s uglier. If she’s not with me, I’ll be thinking about where she is. About whether she’s safe.
Or, if she’s scared. And I don’t like how quickly she became a thought I can’t shut off.
Gavin finally nods. “Fine. But rules are rules. She stays on property. Radios on. Perimeter protocol. And Rhett?—”
“I know,” I say. “I’ve got her.”
Emma’s cheeks flush, and her eyes dart away like the words landed somewhere private.
Chase grins like he’s about to explode. “He said ‘I’ve got her.’”
“Shut up,” I growl.
Thorne’s voice is quiet from the back. “No leads on Renshaw means he knows we’re looking.”
Silas nods. “Or he’s already moved Mia.”
Emma goes still. Her humor drains out of her face so fast it’s like someone pulled the plug. “Moved her… where?”
Gavin’s tone is careful. “We don’t know yet.”
That’s the worst answer in the world. I see it in Emma’s eyes—the panic trying to rise, the helplessness she’s been fighting for too long. I step closer without thinking, just enough that she can feel I’m there. Her gaze flicks up to mine, and for a second she looks like she might fall apart. Instead, she swallows hard andsays, “I’m not leaving. I’m not going home. I’m staying until you find her.”
Gavin nods once, respect in his eyes. “Good.”
The meeting breaks after that—everyone moving into motion again. Wyatt back to digging through digital trails. Silas heading out to make calls. Boyd, Harlan, and Thorne taking perimeter shifts. Eli checking gear.
Chase lingers long enough to stage-whisper to Rafe, “He’s totally into her.”
Rafe replies dryly, “Rhett doesn’t get into people. He gets into trouble.”
Chase points at me. “See? Trouble.”
I throw him a look that would make a lesser man reconsider his life choices.
Chase blows me a kiss and saunters off like he hasn’t just poked a bear.
Emma stands slowly, pulling her hoodie tighter around herself. “So… is this where I ask if your cabin is serial-killer-themed?”
I head toward the hallway. “My cabin is functional.”
“That’s what serial killers say.”
I stop and look back at her. “Do you want to be safe, or do you want to keep making jokes about me murdering you?”
She lifts her chin. “Both.”
Of course she does.
I gesture for her to follow. “Come on.”
She falls into step beside me, boots scuffing the floor. She smells like winter and something sweet—vanilla maybe. It shouldn’t matter.
It does.
We pass through the main hall where Kayley’s photo is still pinned on the community board from last week’s “Welcome to Haven 7” bulletin Harper made—because Harper is determined to domesticate the entire compound through emotional manipulation and baked goods.
Emma slows, staring at it. “Who’s that?”