Page 29 of Protector of Talon Mountain

We walk in silence. The kind that doesn’t feel empty. The kind that feels like everything matters too much to speak aloud.

The sky’s a muted blue-black, clouds moving like smoke across the moon. My boots crunch over frozen gravel, and his steps fall in rhythm with mine. There’s no space between us. Not really. Even when there is, it hums with potential. With pressure. With something that’s building, always building.

“You want me to sweep the house again?” he asks as we step onto my porch.

I hesitate. “No, I made sure everything was locked up tight when I left this morning.”

He doesn’t argue. But he doesn’t move away either. I turn to face him. He’s close enough that I can see the faint line of stubble on his jaw, the way the porch light glints off the edges of his collar. His eyes are darker now, like they’re carrying something he’s not saying. Something he won’t until I ask.

“I don’t want to need you this much,” I blurt out without thinking.

He lifts a hand and tips my chin up with just two fingers. Firm. Gentle. Decisive.

“You need me, Sadie,” he says, voice low. “And I’m not going anywhere. So stop treating that like it’s a burden.”

My breath catches. The porch disappears. The cold disappears. There’s just him. Just us. And that weight in the air we’ve been circling for days.

Zeke steps in, slow but sure, like he knows I won’t pull back. His hand slides to the curve of my jaw. Warm. Commanding. His lips hover just above mine. Not touching. Not yet.

My pulse hammers in my throat. Everything in me wants to lean in. Close the distance. But I don’t.

I press my hand gently to his chest. Not a push. Just... a pause.

“I can’t,” I whisper. “Not yet.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t sigh or retreat. He just nods once and stays right where he is, eyes locked on mine. His voice is a rasp when he speaks again.

“I can wait. But I won’t wait forever.”

And that should scare me, but... it thrills me. He steps back. Just enough. His eyes still hold mine, like he’s daring me to look away first. I don’t.

“Lock both bolts,” he says, nodding toward the door.

I nod.

He waits until the lock clicks into place before he turns and walks into the dark. No words. No goodbye. But everything about him says soon, and that’s exactly the problem.

Because for the first time in years... I want soon.

7

ZEKE

The air bites colder the farther I get from the road. It’s early, not even six, but I couldn’t sit in that studio apartment above the café one second longer. Not with Sadie’s face still in my head. The way she looked at me last night when I leaned in, when she stopped me—not afraid, not unsure. Just not ready.

I respect that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. Want her. All of her.

So instead of pacing in front of the cottage like a man ready to burn something down, I lace up my boots and head back toward the shack. The one in the woods no one’s supposed to remember.

Snow crunches under my steps, but it’s patchy now—the melt is starting to win in places. Leaves stick to frost and mud. My breath comes out in sharp clouds. I move fast, not because I’m rushed. Because I know exactly where I’m going.

The shack hasn’t changed. Still half-collapsed, still stinking faintly of burnt metal and fuel. But I don’t stop at the threshold like last time. This time, I walk around the back.

If you’re hiding something, you don’t leave it near the fire. You build your burn site where it covers the truth, not where it lives.

I press my hand against the rear wall—rot-soft in one spot, brittle in another. Then I crouch. There, at the base: a panel of rotted siding loose enough to pry up with a blade. I slide my knife from my belt and wedge it beneath the edge. The panel lifts with a groan and reveals what I’d suspected. A stash point.

Inside: two burner phones, both dead but intact. A GPS beacon, tucked into a small metal tin. And a weatherproof field notebook sealed in a ziplock bag. When I open it, I see it immediately: not scribbles. Logs. Tight writing. Encrypted. Not military standard, but close enough that I’d bet money on someone with a background in spec ops or intelligence passed through this shack. Probably used it as a drop.

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