Page 26 of Shadow of Misty Mountain

“Anytime. And if you’re expecting Travis to storm in here like some mountain man on a mission—let’s sell tickets. We could make a fortune.”

She winks and leaves, her laughter trailing behind her. I lock the door again, sit down on the edge of the bed, and stare at the tray she left.

Food. Warmth. Safety. And somewhere out there in the cold, Travis Holt. Complicated and dangerous—and trying to protect me in the only way he knows how.

I just don’t know if I can keep letting him. Because wanting him is starting to feel like standing too close to a cliff in awindstorm. The problem is, I’m not sure if I’ll get blown off or leap with abandon into the abyss.

The knock on the door doesn’t come. It’s a heavy footstep, deliberate, right outside the room. I already know it’s him. Travis doesn’t knock. He shows up with a key and just lets himself in. I want to throw something at him. I’m just not sure if it’s a bookend or myself.

The second the door clicks shut behind him, the air shifts. The silence changes. It's like the room itself braces for his presence. I turn slowly, arms crossed, all the words I’ve been holding back rising to the surface like a tide I can’t stop.

He looks like he walked through hell to get here—snow still clings to his shoulders, the flannel shirt over his broad frame soaked through in patches. Ice and snow cake his boots, and they are starting to melt. His jaw is tight, and his eyes—those dark, piercing blue eyes—lock on me like he’s been tracking me across a battlefield.

He opens his mouth, probably to start barking orders, but I beat him to it.

“No.”

He pauses mid-step, eyebrows pulling together. “No?”

“No, Travis. You don’t get to walk in here after leaving me behind like I’m some mission detail to be shelved, and act like we’re picking up exactly where you left off.”

His eyes narrow. “I told you I was coming back.”

“Yeah. And you think that’s enough? That I should just nod along while you make all the decisions and keep me in the dark like I’m breakable?”

He stalks forward, slow and steady. “I kept you in the dark to keep you alive.”

“I’m not asking you to stop protecting me,” I snap, stepping right into his space. “I’m asking you to stop treating me like I don’t get a say in any of this. I’m not your soldier. I’m not your responsibility.”

“You’re wrong.”

That stops me short. “Excuse me?”

“You are my responsibility. You were the second your brother put my name in your hands.” His voice is low now, deadly calm. “I gave him my word, Abby.”

“And that’s all this is to you? A promise to a dead man?”

His jaw ticks. “Don’t twist my words.”

“Then say what you mean.”

“I mean,” he growls. I step back until my back brushes the wall, “I’ve been trying to protect you without pulling you under with me. And I’m failing at it.”

“Maybe because you keep pretending we’re not already in this together.”

One second he’s across the room. The next, I’m against the wall, his body pinning mine, heat radiating off every inch of him. His hands cage me, one planted beside my head, the other gripping my hip.

“You think you don’t matter?” His voice is low and lethal. “You think I’d burn my life to the ground for just anyone?”

My heart stutters. “Then stop acting like I’m an inconvenience you’re babysitting.”

He dips his head, mouth brushing my ear. “You’re not an inconvenience.”

“Then what am I?” My voice breaks, too soft, too honest.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are fire.

“Mine,” he says.

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