Something closer to… satisfaction.
He leans forward slightly. “No.”
Just that.
No.
My chest tightens. “No?”
He holds my gaze like he’s making sure I hear him. “You’re the first.”
My breath catches.
I stare at him, trying to find the lie. Trying to find the angle.
There isn’t one.
“And you should know,” he adds, voice rougher, “I don’t bring anyone to my cabin. I don’t bring anyone into my life.”
Life.
The word lands heavy.
I swallow. “Why not?”
His eyes flick to the fire, then back to me. The shift is small, but I feel it. Like he just touched something sharp inside himself.
“I don’t do well with people,” he says.
I blink. That sounds ridiculous when it comes from a man who’s part of a motorcycle club with a reputation that makes men like Voss back away.
Wolf’s mouth twitches like he knows what I’m thinking.
“I’m good at crowds when I have to be,” he says. “I’m better alone.”
The silence stretches again.
Then he exhales through his nose and says it like it costs him nothing, like it’s just information.
“I did three tours.”
My stomach drops.
He doesn’t elaborate right away, but I can see it in the way his eyes lose a little warmth. In the way his shoulders go tight. In the way his hands curl slightly, like he’s gripping something invisible.
“I got out recently,” he continues. “Came here because it’s quiet.”
Quiet.
That makes sense. The cabin. The distance from town. The way he sits like he’s always watching.
I whisper, “Were you hurt?”
His eyes flick to me. “I’m fine.”
It’s the same lie I told him.
He catches himself, then adds, softer, “I’m done bleeding.”
