"We need to talk."
She sits up slowly, pulling the blanket with her and wrapping it around her chest, looking both vulnerable and strong.
I trace a finger down her arm and feel the goose bumps rise. “What happened tonight?—"
"You saved me."
I shake my head. "No. I was almost too late. And next time, it won’t be two drunk hunters."
Her breath catches. "Next time?"
I shake my head. No, no, I don’t want to talk about next time. I want to talk aboutus.
“What happens when you leave?”
She looks away, not meeting my eyes. “Been wondering the same thing,” she whispers. “What if I want to stay?”
My heart stumbles in my chest. It’s the exact fucking thing I was hoping for and the worst possible outcome. I shake my head.
“You can’t?—”
But her face falls, and I feel like the world’s biggest douchebag ever.
“Listen, it isn’t you, it’s just that… the work I do would put you in danger.”
“How?” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand, Owen.”
I sigh and run my hand through my hair.
"If your book gets out there, if you go back to that life… people are going to find you. People who don’t want you to be happy. Who don’t care if you’re safe. And instead of protecting you like I did tonight… I won’t be able to. And it will be my fault for leading you there.”
She swallows. "You mean Jake."
"I mean all of them." I take a deep breath. "I’ve spent years trying to find a way to get you out of that world. To bring you here. Tokeepyou here. And now that I have you… I’m scared about what could happen.”
I sigh hard. I don’t find it easy to admit this.
She looks at me. No fear. No confusion. Just that soft, steady knowing in her eyes that always cuts me in two.
“I want to stay with you, Owen. No matter what.”
My throat tightens. "You don’t have to choose," I say, even though I want her to. Even though I want her to burn every bridge back to that world and stay here with me—innocent, brilliant, and mine.
"Don’t I?" Her voice is barely audible. "Because if I go out there, I know what I’ll find. The same cold hands and smiling knives. And if I stay…"
"You’ll have me."
Me, and every one of my goddamn enemies.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Emma
I stare at my phone.It’s so strange that Jake hasn’t called me, not since Owen got here. I check and find I do have at least one pathetic little bar of cell service.
Steam coils under the door, the hiss of water, steady and relentless. Owen’s in the shower, and I love it because it’s like watching him shed a skin. My Owen becomes someone else in there—boyish and carefree, like the weight of the world doesn’t press against those broad shoulders for once. His voice, deep baritone, rolls through the tiny bathroom walls, echoing, vibrating through the plaster like thunder caged in a box. And I smile.
I want to bottle that version of him and keep it… because it’s rare.