Page 46 of Brotan

"Fine," I growl, the tone carrying a warning he knows better than to ignore. "Just watch her today."

"Always do." He claps my shoulder, then hesitates. "You know, she's different with you. Smiles more. Got a light in her that wasn't there before."

The observation hits harder than it should, especially after what just happened. "Just do your job, D."

I pull away before he can respond, the bike's engine drowning out whatever he might have said. I need space, need to think. Need to understand what's happening between Maya and me, and why that phone call was enough to erase the progress we'd made.

The road to the clubhouse beckons, but Victor Hargrove's estate pulls me toward a brief detour. Three days focused on Maya have made me neglect my other responsibilities. The fires, the threats, Victor's connection to it all—none of it has disappeared just because I've been distracted by a woman with healing hands and a will of steel.

The mansion sits quiet on its hill, nothing stirring behind the ornate windows. The ankle monitor on Victor's leg means he's not going anywhere, but his nephew, Royce, is still out there somewhere. And if there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's that the real danger often comes from the ones you aren't watching.

I make a mental note to have Ash increase surveillance on Victor's known associates. If they're behind the fires, we need to know before anyone else gets hurt.

Especially Maya. Because no matter what just happened between us, no matter how quickly she retreated, one thing remains unchanged—I'll burn this town to the ground before I let anyone harm her.

ChapterTen

Maya

My mother's ultimatum hangs over me like a storm cloud. The memory of her unexpected phone call replays in my mind as I organize supplies at the clinic.

"Your father pulled strings with Marcus Winthrop," she'd explained with that crisp efficiency she uses for everything from dinner plans to life-altering decisions. "They need a concierge doctor at his Long Island practice—wealthy clients, reasonable hours, triple what you'd make in that backwater clinic."

When I hesitated, her voice had hardened. "This is the last time we intervene, Maya. Marcus needs to fill the position quickly. The offer expires in two weeks."

Those two weeks are ticking by and my indecision has created an invisible barrier between Crow and me. He senses that something's wrong, but he doesn't know what. I've been distant, distracted, unable to focus on our budding relationship while this choice looms over me. What was once effortless now feels strained. We move around each other carefully, his confusion matching my reluctance to explain.

The supply cabinet needs organizing, so I sort gauze pads by size. Focusing on this routine task occupies my hands while my thoughts return to the inevitable question: what happens when those two weeks are up?

Those days with Crow had revealed possibilities I hadn't allowed myself to consider. We fit together seamlessly—his strengths complement my weaknesses, and my skills fill his gaps. In him, I'd glimpsed a partnership unlike any I'd experienced—the protective warrior and the healer, creating something greater than either of us alone.

But Mom's call collapsed that vision like a house of cards.

If she hadn't blocked her number, I never would have answered, never would have watched our connection dissolve like tissue paper in rain.

My phone buzzes with a text. Mom again:We need to talk about your decision.I delete it without responding, though a knot forms in my stomach. I'd hoped to have more time before facing them directly.

The weight of their expectations presses against my chest. Stay in Shadow Ridge, and I forfeit my parents' approval. Go back to New York, and I lose... what, exactly? A town that needs me? A makeshift clinic?

A green-skinned fighter who looks at me like I can heal every wrong done to him?

It's an impossible choice, but one I know time is running out on making.

I've just finished reorganizing the bandages when the clinic door swings open, setting off the small bell I installed after the trash can fire. I step out of the supply room, expecting Mrs. Patterson for her blood pressure check. Instead, Crow fills the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light.

"Diesel's running late," he says. "I'm covering till he gets his shit together."

My body responds instantly to his presence—a flutter beneath my ribs, warmth blooming across my skin as his scent surrounds me. Leather and cedar and something uniquely Crow that I've tried unsuccessfully to forget. I press my palm against the edge of the desk to anchor myself, wondering if his enhanced hearing can detect the sudden rhythm change in my chest.

"I thought you had meetings with Ash today." I keep my voice neutral, professional, forcing back a wave of emotion.

"Rescheduled." He scans the waiting room, empty at the moment, then turns his attention back to me. "You busy?"

"Just restocking supplies." I gesture toward the back. "Nothing urgent."

He nods, then steps closer, closing the distance with deliberate steps. My heart rate picks up, responding to his proximity like I'm hardwired to his presence.

"What's going on with you?" he asks, voice dropping to that low register that vibrates through my bones.

---