The damn cabin door almost flew off its hinges, rattling like it was about to give up.
She yanked herself away from him, still breathless, lips burning from that kiss—God, that kiss—like it'd punched a hole right through everything between them. His eyes? Not soft anymore. Nope. All the heat gone, replaced by this wild, razor-edged focus.
"They're here," he spat, already ducking for the blade he'd stashed under the bed earlier. "Stay behind me."
Her heart nearly beat out of her chest, and not because of the makeout session this time. Nope, this was pure panic—the oh-crap kind. Shadows flickered outside the window, voices whispering closer, tightening around them.
"No." She clung to his arm, voice shaky but stubborn as hell. "I'm done hiding. Not after all this."
He hesitated for half a second—jaw locked up, stuck between wanting to shield her and maybe, finally, trusting her to handle herself. Then he pressed a dagger into her hand. It was still warm from his skin. Weird detail to notice, but there it was.
The door exploded inward.
Two guys rushed in, weapons flashing in the lamplight. He was already moving—honestly, the guy was like a wrecking ball—slammed the first dude into the wall so hard it made a sick crack. The second one barreled straight for her.
Instinct just kind of took the wheel. She ducked, slashed upward with the dagger—caught the guy's arm. He swore, stumbled back, and she booted him straight toward the firelight.
"Nice," he barked, shoving her out of the way as he buried his blade in attacker number one. "Don't lose your head."
Chaos. Boots pounding, glass shattering, more people piling in. For every one that dropped, another one spilled through the door.
But the two of them? They fought together. Side by side, back to back, out of breath and bleeding, but totally in sync. He was a damn hurricane; she was wildfire. They moved like they'd been doing this forever—no second-guessing, no hesitation, just this weird, terrifying harmony.
Then it went dead quiet.
Bodies everywhere, firelight flickering across the mess. She sagged against him, lungs burning, hands shaking so bad the dagger slipped right out of her grip.
"They'll send more," he rasped, still eyeing the busted windows like he expected another ambush.
She locked eyes with him, wiped blood from her cheek. "Then we run."
He nodded, squeezed her hand tight. "Yeah. Together."
And just like that, they vanished into the night—no looking back, just gone.