Page 96 of Savage Surrender

I read it again.

The words stay the same.

Sorry. Do not try to follow. Us.

The paper crushes in my fist.

They left while I was asleep.

No. They waited until I was asleep.

I am moving before the thought finishes. Out of the den, across the hall, Tristan’s shirt snapping against my thighs as I stalk toward the bathroom.

The water shuts off before I reach it. Tristan steps into the hall with a towel around his hips and another in his hands, rubbing it through his hair.

“Where are they?”

He lowers the towel.

No surprise. Not even the quick calculation that usually crosses his face when I catch him off guard. He looks at the note sticking out of my fist and meets my eyes.

“They should be at the house by now.”

At the house. Owen with a bad shoulder. Freddie with his hands shaking over those photographs.

“How long have you known?”

Tristan doesn’t reach for me. Smart man.

“Since last night.”

My fingers tighten around the note.

“For the record, I objected to the wording.”

“The lying part?”

“The do not try to follow us part.” He folds the towel over one shoulder. “Optimistic.”

My fist hits his chest.

Tristan rocks back and catches himself against the bathroom doorframe. The towel slips from his shoulder. Owen’s note slides out of my hand and sticks to the wet floor between us, but I don’t care.

“We were supposed to finish discussing this before making a decision. You let me go to sleep believing that.”

His hands stay loose at his sides. No laugh. No filthy little smile over the marks I’m leaving. He takes it like a punishment he already agreed to.

“Say something!”

“I told them keeping it from you was a bad idea.”

“Wow. Thank god there was one brave man in the room.”

“I wasn’t agreeing they should take you.”

I slam both palms into his chest. “You say you love this side of me. But when I might actually be useful, I get left in the soft room?”

Tristan’s back hits the wall.