It turned out working with Ronan was mostly just staying out of his way. He stepped outside to take mysterious phone calls, took long perimeter walks to “secure the area”, and ran his day by a strict routine. Mia was relegated to the chair by the fire in the afternoons. Sometimes she went on his morning walks with him where they traded slightly stilted and awkward conversation. She never joined him on the ones at night even when he asked. Instead she locked herself in her room and tossed and turned until morning.


    It had been nearly two weeks of this and they were finally falling into a comfortable routine. Mia found that Ronan was a relatively easy housemate. There were just small problems.


    First, he was unfairly handsome and any time he was near she had the irrational desire to jump him. She’d hoped prolonged exposure would help with it, but that strange electric energy that flowed over her skin when he was near seemed to only intensify.


    Second, Ronan held her at arm’s length despite their agreement to work together. He almost never shared personal details but was always incredibly curious about anything she had to say.


    The third reason wasn’t really Ronan’s fault but her own nightmares come to life.


    The cabin was never truly silent. Even in the dead of night, the wind slipped through the trees, rustling the leaves like whispers against the darkness. The near constant rain had stopped hours ago, leaving behind a damp chill that clung to the wooden walls. But it wasn’t the wind or the cold keeping Mia awake.


    It was him. Ronan.


    Even now, she could feel him. His presence was an anchor, heavy and constant, even when she couldn’t see him. He wasn’t in the room, but she knew—knew—he was close, just beyond the door, keeping watch like he always did. It should have annoyed her, the way he hovered, the way he kept her caged under the guise of protection.


    But it didn’t.


    Mia exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples as she paced in front of the unlit fireplace. She had agreed to stay, agreed to work with Ronan instead of constantly looking for an escape route. But cooperation didn’t mean she understood what was happening between them—what this pull was.


    Every time he was near, her skin burned. Every time he touched her, even by accident, her breath hitched. It was more than attraction, more than chemistry. It felt like he was embedded in her very bones.


    And that made no sense.


    She barely knew him. She shouldn’t want him—not when he was keeping things from her, not when she still didn’t fully trust him.


    Especially, not when there were more important things to worry about.


    A sound echoed through the trees, low and distant. A howl.


    Mia froze.


    Another joined it. Then another. The hairs on the back of her neck rose as the eerie chorus filled the night, the notes long and deliberate, too many voices overlapping. It wasn’t the random call of a lone wolf.


    It was coordinated and intentional.


    Her stomach twisted. She had heard howls like this before. The night her mother died.


    Mia squeezed her eyes shut, but the memories surfaced anyway. The coppery scent of blood. The shattered glass. The way the air had felt too still right before the wolves began to sing in the forest behind the house. She had been just a kid, too young to understand what was happening, but she had felt the wrongness of the night before she even found her mom’s broken body.


    And now, standing in this dimly lit cabin, years later, that same feeling crept up her spine.


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    She backed away from the window, pulse thudding against her ribs. The howls faded into the distance, but the unease stayed, curling around her like a ghost.


    She needed to clear her head.


    Slipping on a sweatshirt, Mia pushed open the door. The hallway was dim, the only light coming from the small lamp near the kitchen. And there he was. Ronan. Seeing him loosened the anxiety gripping her chest and she was able to breathe.


    He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, gaze flicking to her the second she stepped into view. His sharp blue eyes darkened, scanning her like he knew something was wrong.


    “Couldn’t sleep?” His voice was a low rumble, rough with exhaustion.


    Mia shook her head. “Neither can you.”


    Ronan exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the front door. “Something’s off tonight.”


    She swallowed. “I heard them. The howls.”


    His jaw tightened. “They’re restless.”


    Something in the way he said it made her chest constrict.


    A part of her wanted to push, to demand answers, but she forced herself to let it go—for now. They were both exhausted, bothon edge. This wasn’t the time for another fight, especially when Ronan had been only kind to her.


    Instead, she leaned against the kitchen island, mirroring his posture. “So, what now?”


    Ronan studied her for a long moment before answering. “We keep doing this. We stick to the plan. Lay low. Wait for my team to make their move.”


    It was the same thing he had told her before, but this time, she didn’t argue. She just nodded and settled beside him pulling a mug from the dishrack. “Tea?” she asked.


    He shook his head but reached above her to grab the small box out of the cabinet and handed it to her. His fingers brushing hers sent a flutter of nerves in her belly. Another part of their routine was how very good Ronan had become at predicting her needs.


    “Thanks,” she murmured, hyperaware of how close they were in the small space.


    His lips turned up at the corner and his voice came out low, “You’re welcome, Mia.” Sometimes, in moments like this. Mia wondered if Ronan felt it, too, that pull that hooked her to him.


    She slid a plate of cookies across the counter and was filled with satisfaction when he took one.


    At first, it was just for herself. The second night after Ronan arrived, she had rummaged through the small pantry, unwilling to eat another protein bar or bland meal from the cabin’s stash of survival food. Cooking had always been a comfort, a way to settle her thoughts, and she had needed that more than ever.


    But then Ronan had walked in, his gaze landing on the simmering pot on the stove, and something in his expression had shifted.


    “You cook?” he had asked, almost skeptically.


    Mia had rolled her eyes. “Yes, Ronan. I cook. Do you eat, or just brood in the corner until your enemies drop dead?”


    The corner of his mouth had twitched—almost a smile.


    The next night, she had cooked again, and he had stayed.


    It became an unspoken ritual. She would chop vegetables, stir pots, lose herself in the familiar motions while Ronan sat nearby, close but not too close, watching her. Sometimes he would ask questions—what she was making, how she learned. Other times, they would just sit in quiet companionship, the only sounds the crackling of the stove and the steady rhythm of her knife against the cutting board.


    And they talked.


    Not about the war raging in the shadows. Not about the secrets still hanging between them.


    But about other things. Small things.


    She told him about her mother’s cooking, about the Sunday dinners that had once been sacred in their home. He told her about his team who were more like family, about the ridiculous bets they used to make during training.


    She learned he liked his coffee black but had a weakness for cinnamon.


    He learned she hated the cold but loved the sound of rain.


    It wasn’t much. But it was something.


    And now, as she stood in the kitchen, feeling the weight of the night pressing in, she found herself reaching for the skillet. For normalcy.


    She didn’t need to ask if Ronan wanted food. She just started cooking.


    Behind her, he shifted, watching. She could feel his gaze on her back, the way it sent warmth curling through her body.


    “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured.


    “I know.” She cracked an egg into the pan, the sizzle filling the space between them. “But I want to.”


    Ronan was quiet for a long moment. Then, finally, he moved closer, just enough that she could feel the heat of him at her back.


    Mia’s pulse skipped.


    The howls were gone now, swallowed by the silence of the forest. But something else lingered in the air, thick and unspoken between them.


    She wasn’t sure if it was trust, but she decided she didn’t really care as she handed Ronan a plate and he smiled at her.