And written across the bottom in black marker were four words.
YOU CAN’T HIDE HER.
63
FELICITY
The photograph slipped from Hersh’s hand into the mud.
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
Rain hammered the trees around us while those four words seemed to echo endlessly inside my head.
YOU CAN’T HIDE HER.
I stared at the picture.
At myself asleep beneath the blanket in the cabin.
Oh my Lord.
That blanket?—
That was from two nights ago.
Which meant Shepherd had been close enough to watch me while I slept.
A wave of nausea hit so hard I nearly doubled over.
“Honey—”
Hersh caught me instantly despite the pain tearing across his face.
His arms wrapped around me hard.
Protective.
Possessive.
Furious.
“You’re okay,” he said low against my hair.
But his voice?—
His voice sounded dangerous now.
The kind right before men like Hersh killed people.
“He was there,” I whispered shakily. “He was actually there.”
Nobody tried to deny it.
Because the proof sat right there in the mud.
Wolf swore violently under his breath.
