"He accepted because you're six foot eight and holding a weapon designed to dismember large animals!" My voice echoes off the metal walls. "That's not an invitation, Lanek. That's a threat. That's assault. That's potentially a felony depending on how long you kept him here!"
"He came to the shop on his own." Lanek's jaw tightens. "I simply suggested we discuss his business practices in private."
"While sharpening a cleaver."
"I sharpen my tools every morning. He happened to be here during my routine maintenance."
"Stop." I press my hands to my face, trying to breathe through the crushing disappointment. "Just stop. Don't try to spin this into something reasonable."
He steps toward me, and I back up instinctively. Hurt flashes across his face.
"I was protecting you," he says quietly. "He was threatening your livelihood. Your home. Everything you've built. I wasn't going to let him destroy you."
"So you decided to terrorize him instead?" I drop my hands, meeting his gaze. "You decided to solve a legal business dispute with intimidation and violence?"
"I solved it." His voice hardens. "He's going to give you a fair lease. You can keep your bakery. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Not like this!" The words burst out of me, sharp and desperate. "Not with you dragging people into your freezer and threatening them! Not with you making decisions about my life without consulting me! We talked about this literally yesterday, Lanek. We agreed to be partners. To handle things together."
"You were sleeping." He crosses his arms, matching my defensive posture. "You were exhausted from crying yourself sick over this bastard's threats. I wasn't going to wake you up to ask permission to defend what's mine."
And there it is. The thing that's been lurking under all of this since the beginning.
"I'm not yours to defend," I say quietly. "Not like that. Not like I'm territory you need to patrol and protect from invaders."
His eyes flash. "You said you were mine. Last night, in your bakery, you told me you belonged to me."
"I meant emotionally!" My voice cracks. "I meant I love you, you idiot. I didn't mean you get to make unilateral decisions about my problems and solve them with violence!"
"This is how my people handle threats." He's not yelling, but his voice fills the small space. "When someone comes for my mate, I eliminate the threat. That's not violence, Quinn. That's protection."
"Your people don't live in a modern city with laws and lawyers and security cameras!" I'm shaking now, from cold and anger and heartbreak. "Your people's traditional methods are going to get you arrested! What happens when Mr. Corrigan goes to the police? What happens when they show up here asking questions about why a terrified man ran out of your shop this morning?"
"He won't go to the police." Lanek's certainty is infuriating. "He's guilty of predatory real estate practices. The last thing he wants is legal scrutiny."
"You don't know that!" I'm yelling now, my careful control shattering. "You're gambling with your freedom because you can't let me handle my own problems!"
"I'm ensuring you don't lose everything you've worked for because some corporate bastard sees an opportunity to exploit you!" He takes another step toward me, and this time I hold my ground. "You're brilliant, Quinn. You're fierce and strong and capable. But you're also five foot two and running a failing business in a neighborhood full of predators. You need someone watching your back."
The words hit like a slap.
"A failing business?" My voice drops to something cold and dangerous. "Is that what you think? That I'm some damsel in distress who needs her big strong Orc to save her from the mean corporate world?"
He falters. "That's not what I meant."
"Then what did you mean?" I step closer, tipping my head back to glare up at him. "Explain to me how terrorizing my landlord is you watching my back instead of you completely undermining my agency and treating me like I'm incapable of fighting my own battles."
"I'm not—" He drags a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. "You're twisting my words."
"No, I'm hearing them clearly for the first time." The realization settles over me like ice water. "You don't see me as a partner. You see me as something to protect. Something to claim and defend and keep safe."
"You are safe with me." His voice roughens. "Always. I would die before I let anyone hurt you."
"I don't want you to die for me!" The words tear out of my throat. "I want you to trust me! I want you to respect that I can handle my own problems! I want you to ask me what I need instead of deciding for me!"
We stare at each other across the freezing space, our breath misting between us.
"I do respect you," he says finally, but his voice lacks conviction.
