Willa woke to silence and the scent of pine smoke.
For one blissful second, everything was still—her limbs tangled in sheets, her head nestled against Cade's chest, his arm draped over her waist. His steady heartbeat thudded beneath her cheek, grounding her in a moment that felt impossibly safe.
Too safe.
Her eyes snapped open.
What the hell had she done?
The memory came rushing back in waves—his mouth, his hands, the way he'd said her name like it meant something.
Her body still hummed with the aftermath, but her mind was already three steps ahead, running scared.
She eased out of bed, moving slow so she didn't wake him. Her shirt was half-tangled on the floor. She snatched it up and pulled it over her head with a muttered curse.
What had she been thinking?
He was the mark.
The damn bounty.
And she was falling into his bed like some kind of amateur with a hormone problem.
Professionalism, Lang, she snapped to herself. Remember that?
She found her boots near the door and tugged them on just as a voice rumbled behind her.
"You always sneak out after?"
She froze.
Turned slowly.
Cade sat up, the sheet low on his hips, hair a mess, lips still kiss-swollen. Unfair.
Willa crossed her arms. "Not sneaking. Just… thinking."
He arched a brow. "About last night?"
"About everything."
He stood, grabbing his jeans off the chair and pulling them on with casual ease. "You're not the only one. I haven't stopped thinking since the first time you pulled a blade on me."
Willa scoffed. "Romantic."
"It is when you grow up in a town full of killers and wolves," he said with a half-smile. "You don't get many women who'll challenge you and save your life in the same breath."
She looked at him sharply. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Act like this is… something."
He stepped closer, voice low. "You sure it's not?"
Willa looked away.
Because no, she wasn't sure at all.
And that terrified her.
She'd lived her life by codes, never get attached, never trust the job, and never sleep with the damn target. And she'd just broken every single rule.
"I need air," she muttered, brushing past him.
"Willa—"
"Don't," she snapped. "Just… give me a minute."
She left the cabin and stepped into the trees, heart racing like she'd just run a marathon. The morning sun was just starting to filter through the branches, lighting the path in fractured gold.
And right there, in the silence of the woods, Willa let herself feel.
The pull.
The fire.
The fear.