Page 51 of The Scout

Finally, he turned, his expression unreadable—but his eyes weren’t. His eyes were dark, wild, ravenous, like he was forcing himself to stand on the other side of the room because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

He raked a hand through his hair, looking as wrecked as I felt. "Isabel, this isn’t?—"

"Don’t," I cut in sharply. "Don’t say my name like that."

Like it was a warning. Like I was a problem to solve instead of a woman he had spent hours devouring.

His jaw ticked, but he didn’t argue.

The silence stretched between us, heavy, suffocating, until finally, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the sheet falling away, leaving me bare except for the t-shirt. My panties had been destroyed by Ryker in the pool.

His gaze flickered—just for a second, just low enough to betray himself—but it was gone quickly, replaced with cold restraint.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you’re not the only one who gets a say in what this is."

Ryker’s throat bobbed, but he said nothing.

I didn’t wait for him to. Instead, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and froze. One unread text.

Unknown Number.

You looked good in the pool last night.

A cold shiver crawled up my spine.

I swallowed as my pulse picked up. I had been flirting with Ryker’s jealousy—but who else had been watching?

I felt Ryker move before I saw him. One second he was by the dresser, and the next, he was in front of me, his fingers curling under my chin, forcing my gaze up.

"What?" His voice was low, sharp, already laced with danger.

I hesitated for only a second before turning the phone so he could see.

His entire body went still.

Then—he took the phone from my hands, his thumbswiping over the screen. I watched as his breathing deepened, his jaw clenching so tightly I thought he might break a tooth.

"Who the fuck is this?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

I shook my head. "I don’t know."

His lips parted slightly, his gaze narrowing as he read the message again. Then—without warning—he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, my phone still in his hand.

I stood there, watching him disappear, my skin still damp from sleep, from his touch, from the threat that had just entered the room and stolen away whatever moment we had left.

Suddenly, I realized something else. Maybe I wasn’t just trapped in Ryker’s world. Maybe someone else was trying to trap me in theirs.

I stared at the empty doorway long after Ryker disappeared, my skin still humming with the remnants of his touch and my pulse pounding for an entirely different reason now.

I had come here to escape my own thoughts, to distract myself, but instead, I had walked straight into another storm. One that had Ryker’s fingerprints all over it.

But the text—that was something else entirely.

It wasn’t Ryker. It wasn’t Marcus, or Noah, or Charlie, or anyone at Dominion Hall who had spent the last several hours watching me like I was some fractured, delicate thing.

This was someone else. Someone who had been watching from the shadows.

I shivered, rubbing my hands over my arms before moving quickly, going to the guest bathroom, grabbingmy dress off the floor, and pulling it on. The thought of staying here, waiting for Ryker to come back with more orders, more cold restraint, more goddamn rules made my stomach twist.

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