Page 74 of Only the Hunter

Gabe steps closer. But not so close that he takes away my space.

“You’re safe,” he says. “Don’t let them scare you.”

“What about you?”

“Oh. I’m intrigued.”

I study him. The steadiness. The determination. He hasn’t tried to stop me. He’s only supported me. And god I’m grateful for that.

“I’m not afraid,” I say quietly.

“A little fear is healthy.” There’s a half-smile, a hint of humor.

But that fracture cracks further, because it’s all too heavy.

“I found her too late,” I whisper. “And now they’re interested in you.”

“Curious. Probably wondering what resources you’ve conjured.”

“They may come after you. I don’t want to put you at risk. I can’t… If something happened to you because of me…” I mean every word, deep in my bones, but it’s the glassy eyes and swell of tears that I don’t anticipate.

Without thinking, I’m moving, stepping into him.

His arms come around me immediately, holding me close enough that I can feel the heat of him through layers of winter fabric. Solid breadth. A place to stop.

He holds me like we’ve done this before, like it’s as natural as donning a coat or slipping into sleep.

I breathe him in.

He smells like cedar and coffee, and beneath both, something that just smells like him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says, his voice a gravelly rumble that dislodges the guilt. “We do this together.”

I tilt my chin up.

He doesn’t move.

He waits.

My breath catches halfway in, like even my body isn’t sure this is a good idea.

But I rise on my toes without plans or calculations.

Just—closer.

Close enough that I can see the faint scar at his temple. The one I remember from years ago, when he and my brother came home from a pick-up game bloodied and laughing.

I was twelve. He was untouchable.

He’s still untouchable.

Except he’s not moving away.

His hand comes up—slowly—and brushes a damp strand of hair away from my face. His thumb grazes my cheekbone.

I stop breathing.

“Evie,” he says, and like so often when he says my name, it feels heavy, as if it’s loaded with a message. A warning? A question?