Page 79 of Only the Hunter

We don’t stop until we’re three blocks away, ducked into a crowded tram station where bodies and noise provide cover.

Evie’s breathing hard, eyes wide, the folder clutched against her chest.

“What the hell just happened?” she demands.

“You got made,” I say. “They followed the woman. Or they followed you. Either way, that meeting was a setup.”

“She gave me the file⁠—”

“She gave you bait,” I snap. “And you almost took it.”

Her face goes red. “I know that. I’m not disputing that we needed to leave.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“What I’m disputing,” she says, voice low and furious, “is that you didn’t tell me. You didn’t say ‘we need to go, now, here’s why.’ I had my phone up—I was trying to get their faces, something we could actually use—and you grabbed my wrist before I could even get the shot. You hauled me out of there like my opinion doesn’t matter.”

“There wasn’t time for a vote.”

“There’s never time with you. That’s exactly the problem.”

We don’t speak again until we’re back in the hotel room.

She closes the door. Hard.

“I needed ten seconds. That’s all. Ten seconds where you tell me what you see instead of just deciding for both of us.”

“I had ten seconds. I used them to get you out alive.”

“That’s not the point⁠—”

“It’s exactly the point.”

She exhales, some of the fire draining out of her, replaced by something rawer. “You don’t understand. My whole life, people have made decisions about my safety without asking me. My father. The men at work. Every single one always knows what’s best. I can’t—I won’t be someone people just move.”

“I’m not your father.”

“I know that.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I know that. But it still felt the same, for about ten seconds. And that terrifies me more than the men in the café did.”

“I hear you. But I’m struggling, because I think you’re willing to die for this case.”

“And you refuse to think about why. You don’t care about why. You’re willing to control me to stop me.”

She speaks with the force of a slap—exactly as intended.

I step closer, my voice low and equally hard. “That’s not what this is.”

“Yes, it is,” she snaps. “You don’t trust me to assess risk. You don’t trust me to know when to walk away. You think I need you to protect me from myself.”

“I trust you. I don’t trust the people trying to kill you.”

“Then why won’t you let me do my job?”

“Because your job will get you killed!”

The silence that follows is thick. Charged.

She steps closer, brown eyes blazing with hints of gold. “You don’t get to decide what risks I take.”