Mia had always loved the scent of her family’s home—the rich wood of the old floorboards, the musty but comforting smell of antique furniture, and the faint scent of lavender her mother kept in every room that Mia still replaced every few weeks. She loved their spacious kitchen and creating recipes for herself. It was a feeling of nostalgia, of safety, the kind of place she had never imagined leaving behind. Until now.

  The chaos of the outside world felt miles away as she stood in the entryway, feeling like a stranger in her own life. Her father’s sudden decision to move her to the secluded house in the woods had left her disoriented. At first, she’d thought it was a temporary thing—a vacation of sorts—but now, after weeks of forced isolation, she wasn’t so sure.

  She didn’t understand why her father had made the choice. What was so dangerous that they needed to leave everything behind? The questions had been building in her mind, but her father had been evasive, only telling her that it was for her protection.

  It was hard to argue when he refused to say more, especially when Mia had always trusted her father completely. But there were moments, like tonight, when she wondered if she was being kept in the dark on purpose. She wondered if her mom’s death would always be the cause of the rift between her and her father.

  She knew he wanted nothing but her safety, but as the years passed after her mother’s murder and Mia grew older her father tightened the proverbial leash until she was choking. She sometimes felt she literally couldn’t breathe because it had been so long since she had left their estate.

  But it didn’t mean she wanted to be forced to leave against her will. Especially not after she had finally been granted the tiniest amount of responsibility in her father’s trading company, something she had argued and fought for well over a year to have.

  Mia had long ago made peace with her relative and comfortable confinement, but she had never been able to shake her desire to roam and for freedom and independence. As a child, she had often escaped out of windows late at night, ducked out of sight at functions, or woken early before the house to steal out into the wild forest that surrounded their family estate. It had driven her father mad to no end and even more so when he discovered that Mia’s mother joined her on late night walks through the trees every so often.

  It had been a secret they shared. Mia’s secret now was that she still dreamed of the freedom of the forest despite her long, reluctant time away. The way the dirt felt under her bare feet, the chill of the trees’ shadow, even the tug at her hair from low branches and leaves called to her like almost nothing else.

  The tug in her chest to run now, to leave this godforsaken cottage and just escape came not for the first time to her mind. She pushed it down.

  This constant war with herself wasn’t anything new, but she had long ago made up her mind to be loyal to her father and her family home. She knew that he needed her to take care of him or else he’d work himself to death.

  A knock at the door pulled Mia from her thoughts. She glanced toward the windows, where the last rays of daylight were fading and a storm raged outside, rain hammering against the windows of the grand estate as Mia paced the length of her room. The crackling fire did little to warm the cold knot in her stomach.

  Her back was to the door but she still heard it opening. She knew it was her father and turned to continue their argument. “I won’t go,” she said for the third time, her voice sharp and unyielding.

  Her father, a man who had spent his life shielding emotions behind steel-gray eyes, exhaled heavily and pressed his fingers against his forehead. “Mia, this isn’t up for discussion. You leave tomorrow.”

  She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. “I have a life here. You can’t just—”

  “I can and I will.” His voice, though even, carried the weight of finality. “You are in danger.”

  “From what?” she snapped. “You refuse to tell me anything! You keep talking about threats and danger, but all I see is a father who’s using fear to control me. You show up here after weeks of leaving me here alone, and for what? To send me away? I thought you were finally moving past everything that happened with Mom. I won’t stay locked up or in the dark forever.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he didn’t waver. “I am doing this to protect you, Mia. That should be enough.”

  The air in the room was thick with words unsaid, with the ghosts of past arguments and the unspoken truth that had hung between them for years—her mother’s murder. Nine years ago, her world had been torn apart, and every day since her father had buried himself deeper in his secrets.

  But she wouldn’t let him control her. Not anymore.

  A knock at the door interrupted the tense silence. She jumped, startled, and looked at her father. He didn’t seem surprised at all. Before Mia could respond, the door once again swung open, revealing a stranger. His presence filled the room, bringing with it a charge in the air that made her skin prickle.

  Mia’s breath caught in her throat.

  The man standing in her doorway was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and a face carved from stone—sharp jawline, chiseled features, and blue, piercing eyes. His gaze swept over her as though he could see straight through to her soul, and for a heartbeat, Mia felt as if she were frozen in time.

  He was breathtakingly handsome, in a way that was almost too much to take in all at once. He stood tall and unyielding, like a force of nature, yet there was something about him that was undeniable—magnetic.

  He didn’t speak at first, and neither did Mia. The air around them seemed to shift, becoming thick and charged. He took a single step into the room and visibly halted as if an invisible wall stood between them. She watched him take one, two, three deep breaths before he closed his eyes, breaking their eye contact.

  When his blue eyes met hers again there was the slightest shift in them, a hesitation almost.

  "Mia Vance?" His voice was deep, low, and carried a slight edge, though there was a strange gentleness to it too. It was the kind of voice that could command attention without effort, but there was a quiet force in the way he held himself.

  "Yes," she said, her voice a little shaky as her pulse picked up. She didn’t know why she felt so off-balance, but it was impossible to ignore the way her body responded to him. The way her heart raced as though it were trying to leap from her chest.

  "I’m Ronan," he said, his eyes narrowing as if he were studying her with a sort of intensity that made her feel like he was seeing more than just her face. "Your father requested me. I’m here for your protection."

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  Mia blinked. She hadn’t been expecting this. A part of her had suspected that someone—someone—would eventually show up at this tiny house in the middle of nowhere, but she hadn’t expected someone like him.

  "Protection?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I thought we were safe here." She glanced at her father before her attention snapped back to the stranger.

  Ronan’s gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as if he were weighing his words carefully.

  "I’m afraid your safety is more... complicated than that," he replied, his voice now more serious, almost strained. "There are forces at work that you don’t understand, and your father’s decision to move you here wasn’t made lightly. But it’s necessary."

  Mia tried to read him, but there was a guardedness in his eyes that made it difficult to pin him down. It was like he wasn’t just talking about her safety—he was talking about something else entirely, something deeper, darker. She could see the faintest trace of what seemed like concern, but there was something else there too—something she couldn’t quite grasp.

  She stepped back, her head spinning. The tension in the room was growing, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was... off. There was an overwhelming sense of something she didn’t understand, something she couldn’t quite place.

  "I don’t—" Mia began, but before she could finish her sentence, Ronan stepped further inside.

  His presence was like a weight in the room. His body language was confident, and controlled, but there was a restless energy beneath the surface—an undercurrent that Mia couldn’t ignore.

  He closed the door behind him, the action swift and decisive. He didn’t seem to care that she hadn’t invited him in—he just moved as though he already belonged there.

  "I don’t need your protection," Mia said, taking a step back. The air felt thick with unspoken questions.

  Her father exhaled loudly. “Mia,” he warned.

  Ronan’s eyes softened for a moment, and he shook his head. "Your father is concerned-”

  There it was again—that strange sense of danger, mixed with an odd warmth that seemed to pulse in the air between them. He spoke as though he didn’t want to be there, but Mia could see something in his eyes, something fierce and determined.

  "About what?" Mia asked, the words feeling strange on her tongue. "What do I need protection from?"

  Ronan turned from her and met her father’s stare, raising his brows. “You didn’t brief us that Miss Vance is unaware of the actions and plans in place.”

  Her father waved a hand impatiently, “It wasn’t pertinent. As long as my daughter is safe, that is my only concern.”

  Ronan’s gaze clouded with anger.

  Mia frowned, but before she could respond, she felt an unmistakable pull from across the room. The air rushed out of her as every last molecule in her body seemed to zero in on the man before her. Ronan.

  It was like a sudden rush of heat that blossomed in her chest, spreading out to her limbs, pulling her towards him in a way that was undeniable. It wasn’t just physical; it was instinctual, primal even.

  She froze herself in place, her body hyperaware of the man standing in front of her, almost screaming with the need to cross the room to meet him, as if being closer would make the electricity crackling over her lessen.

  Ronan’s expression shifted, his brows furrowed in confusion, and then a flash of something more intense crossed his face. His eyes darkened, as though he too had felt it—the pull between them.

  His hand twitched at his side, like he was trying to restrain himself, trying to fight whatever this was. The air around them grew thick with tension, the magnetic attraction between them almost palpable.

  Mia opened her mouth, but no words made it passed the small gasp that left her. She felt like she couldn’t breathe properly, her heart hammering in her chest was so loud that she couldn’t hear anything else.

  Ronan’s gaze flickered down to her lips, and for a moment, everything in the room stilled. It was as though time had stopped, as though the universe had shrunk to the two of them.

  And then, just as quickly, he turned away.

  "I should have known," he murmured, more to himself than to her. His voice was strained, but his back was to her now, and Mia couldn’t read him. He was distancing himself from her, retreating into himself in a way that made her want to reach out.

  "Should have known what?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "That you’d be..." Ronan’s voice trailed off. When he turned back toward her, his gaze was filled with something raw, something that made her pulse quicken in her throat. He stared at her for a long moment and faced her father again. “Gregory, your daughter deserves this information. Mia being in the dark is irresponsible and reprehensible.”

  Her father’s face reddened with anger. “I will make that decision, Mr. Sinclair. You are being paid to protect her, nothing more. If you can’t keep your mouth shut I’ll destroy the contract and look elsewhere.”

  “You will not,” Ronan practically growled.

  Mia stepped between the two men. Ronan was towering, all heaving chest and flaring nostrils. “Dad, stop. You can’t keep treating me like a child. I’ve stuck by your side for years, played by your rules, but you’re sending me away. Tell me why.” Her anger turned brittle by the end and her voice cracked.

  “The men who murdered your mother-”

  Mia gasped. “You know who did it?” At her father’s defeated sigh and slumped shoulders, she pressed a shaky hand to her mouth.

  “It’s more complicated than you think, Mia.” Her father’s words did nothing to soothe the rising panic within her.

  Mia’s world had already been uprooted by their sudden move, by the restrictions he placed on her life. But this? This was something else entirely. This was betrayal.

  She shook her head, forcing herself to take slow, deep breaths even as her pulse thundered in her ears. “If you really wanted to protect me, you would tell me the truth.”

  Gregory opened his mouth as if to argue, but Ronan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. “She deserves to know, Gregory. Whether you like it or not, she’s a part of this now.”

  Mia’s eyes snapped to Ronan’s. There was something about the way he said it, the certainty in his voice, that made her stomach twist.

  A part of this?

  Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly struggling with whatever war raged inside him. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with resignation. “The men who killed your mother… they weren’t just men.”

  Mia’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”

  Ronan and Gregory exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before Ronan spoke again. “They’re not human, Mia. At least, not entirely.”

  She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. Waiting for some logical explanation that would make sense of everything. But Ronan’s expression remained serious, his jaw tight, his gaze unflinching.

  Not human.

  A cold dread crept down her spine. “You’re saying—” She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “You’re saying the people who killed my mom were—what? Monsters?”

  Silence.

  And then, Gregory nodded.

  Mia let out a shaky laugh, but there was no humor in it. “That’s insane.”

  “It’s the truth,” Ronan said, his voice low, steady. “And whether you believe it or not, you’re in danger because of it.”

  Mia backed away, shaking her head. “No. No, this is crazy. You’re both crazy. This has to be some kind of joke.”

  But deep down, a small voice whispered that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t. Because if there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that her father didn’t joke.

  “How long have you known about who killed Mom?” When he didn’t answer she took a step back. “Months? Days? Years? Oh my g- You’ve known the entire time who killed my mother and you never told me?”

  Her father looked heartbroken for a moment before pulling himself straighter. “Yes. And I know that they’re searching for you.”