By the time they finally crashed into the cabin (if you could even call it that—honestly, it looked like it was held together by spite and rotting wood), their lungs felt like they'd been set on fire. Clothes? Totally soaked, sticking everywhere, hair a mess. The place was kind of squashed behind a bunch of pines, hunched and forgotten, like even the forest was embarrassed for it.
"It's abandoned," he muttered, though he still prowled around the place like someone was about to jump out with a chainsaw or something.
She trailed after him, shoving open the door with a groan that could've been from a horror movie. Inside, the air was thick—dust, charred wood, a hint of something funky. At least it was dry. Not exactly the Ritz, but hey, better than being wolf chow.
He shut the door real quiet, sliding the bolt home. "We'll rest here. Just for tonight." Like he could actually relax. Yeah, right.
She just kind of melted, all the tension hitting her at once. Silence was everywhere, thick as a blanket. The whole place was one room: crusty fireplace, shelves that looked ready to collapse, and a bed so narrow she'd probably fall off if she sneezed.
She glanced at the bed, then looked away fast. Nope. Not going there.
He noticed, of course, because he noticed everything. His eyes did this thing—just for a second—then he crouched by the window, peeking out into the black. "The rogues'll still be hunting. Don't even think about letting your guard down."
She hugged herself, shivering now that the adrenaline had dried up. "Didn't plan on it."
He finally turned, saw her shaking, and didn't say anything—just shrugged off his cloak, slung it around her shoulders. His hands lingered at her neck a second longer than necessary. Warmth, real warmth, finally.
Her heart hammered. "Thanks," she breathed, barely above a whisper.
"You need sleep," he said, all gentle, looking at her like he was searching for something. "I'll watch."
She reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him cold. "You do too," she whispered, voice shaking. "You can't keep me safe if you're dead on your feet."
That touch—electric. Neither of them moved, like maybe if they stayed still, the world would stop spinning for a sec.
Rain hammered on the roof, their breaths all uneven. He glanced at her mouth, quick, then back up. Something raw and messy flickered in his eyes.
She could almost hear what he wanted to say, but didn't.
Finally, he jerked away, jaw clenched, and went to sulk by the hearth. "Sleep," he tossed over his shoulder.
She curled up on the bed, cloak still warm, nerves humming. No way sleep was coming tonight. Not with him so close. Not with the storm outside—or the one going off inside her chest.