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Nora returned 8:46 a.m.

Nora restless tonight.

No visible threats near north tree line.

Right.

That.

“You’ve been tracking me?” she demands.

“For safety.”

“For safety,” she repeats flatly. “You wrote down what time I left the cabin to walk twenty feet to my own car.”

“You were alone.”

“I was outside.”

“Exactly.”

Her jaw tightens so hard I can practically hear it.

“You cannot seriously think this is normal behavior.”

I shrug once. “Feels pretty normal to me.”

“That is deeply concerning.”

I almost smile.

Almost.

Nora starts pacing again, furious energy rolling off her in waves while snow crashes against the cabin windows outside.

“You tracked my movements.”

“You’re being hunted.”

“You don’t get to decide where I go.”

“No. I decide whether it’s safe.”

Her eyes flash instantly. “See? That right there. That caveman, alpha-male nonsense where you think you’re in charge of everything.”

“I am in charge of keeping you alive.”

“I didn’t ask you to monitor me like some paranoid prison guard.”

I push off the couch slowly.

The second I stand, her breathing changes.

Tiny shift.

But I catch it.

Always do.