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“Isabella?” His voice was low, rough, and filled with relief.

“I’m here!” My voice cracked with emotion. “Oh dio, you found me.”

Without thinking, I scrambled to maneuver down the tree, my limbs clumsy with cold and exhaustion. Bark scraped my palms raw as I descended, branches catching at my clothes. In my haste, my foot slipped on moss-slick wood. I gasped, flailing wildly as gravity claimed me.

The last few feet became a blur of motion and fear before strong arms caught me. The impact knocked the breath from both of us, Jaxon staggering backward but keeping his footing. The gun clattered to the forest floor.

Relief exploded through me like wildfire. I grabbed his face between my trembling hands and crushed my mouth against his, desperate and fierce. His beard scraped my skin as I poured every ounce of fear and hope into that kiss.

“You’re not dead,” I choked.

He was warm under my touch. That rough vibration in his chest was real enough. “You called. I came.”

I thumped my fist into his chest. “I called nights—and nights ago!”

He clasped my hand, folding his fingers around it, and brought it to his lips. “I heard, bella. I just couldn’t come then.”

The sorrow in his voice, raw and penitent, rocked me.

“Tell me everything,” I demanded.

Jaxon shook his head. “Let’s get you back to the cabin. I just came to check on you; there are groceries. And then I have to leave again.”

“Like hell you’re leaving me here again!”

Jaxon hmphed. The sound was a deep rumble in his chest.

Oh, it’s on.

Those strong arms held me, refusing to let me go the entire way.

The short, ten-minute walk.

I had never been so mad in my life. Which had to be part of the reason I started yelling at him the moment my feet hit the porch boards.

Chapter 42 – Isabella

“You don’t get to hate me for this.” Jaxon’s statement hung in the purple, predawn air. He stood calmly by the open door, arms crossed over his broad chest, and watched me pace.

I don’t get to hate him?

Did I hate him?

Fury was just a cover for the fear. I’d gone off on him the moment we arrived, when the sky was still dark. It was hard to say how long I’d been out here, venting and raging. I demanded we leave; he insisted it wasn’t safe. The debate turned heated, violent on my part. This wasn’t his decision, yet he was determined to be part of the equation.

And I was blinded by fear and a reckless determination for him to see reason. The need to vent, to let it all out, consumed me. The purge was necessary before I could calm down and be reasonable.

I stopped mid-step, took another long swig of water. I was done with this place. The time to hide was long over, and the terror of the night drove me to act. I was ready to take control, to fight to the death if necessary.

Yet we were still in this godforsaken wilderness, in no hurry to leave.

“Take me back to the city.”

At my demand, his jaw tightened.

“I’m serious.” I pointed the cup at him. “I’m not some delicate creature. I live or die with the famiglia.”

He studied me.