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“You can’t go a few hours without it? Seriously? Why you worried?”

I give no answer as I jerk the wheel hard, the tires digging grooves in the soft ground. The engine revs and a high-pitched-whir makes it impossible to hear “Highway to Hell”on our way back to the cabin.

We skid to a stop beside Gilli’s crappy car and I cut the machine off. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“Grab some snacks while you’re at it. The cookies,” Aiden calls after me. “I’ll pack up the truck.”

The man can eat anyone else under the table. He’s always been able to do what he wants because he practically lives in the gym. Things are tougher after the accident but his determination never falters.

I’ve always wanted to take a page out of his book. I’m too stubborn to spend hours in the gym, though. Not when my time is spread thin enough as it is. I’ve got a long list of shit to get done and not enough hours in the day to do it.

I jog to the door into the living room.

Gilli drops her eyes the moment I round toward the kitchen. “You’re back!”

My attention narrows on her fingers, clenched around my cell, and the way her chin trembles like she’s expecting a blow.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My voice is deadly calm.

She looks guilty as sin as I cross the room and snatch it out of her hand. “I’m sorry.”

I keep the phone close to my chest as I unlock the screen, scanning through to see what apps she’s used. My fury mounts by the second.This little bitch.

“How did you unlock it?”

Her face falls. “Your passcode isn’t that hard to guess. I’m sorry,” she repeats.

Anger and disappointment mix together and churn like acid in my veins. She wasn’t alone in the cabin ten minutes before she did this shit.

I make a mental note to change the code, since she easily figured it out. I keep her pinned between my body and the counter as I check everything, then land on the phone icon.

My body tenses at the number at the top of the screen, the most recent outgoing call to the local police. A chill spreads outward from a center of ice in my gut and I stare at her, my grip tight enough on the screen to crack it.

“Why’d you call the police? What kind of trouble are you in?”

I hold my breath, waiting.

She doesn’t respond. Without a thought, I reach down and draw her into me fast enough for her to gasp.

“Gilli, answer me.”

She tips her chin up. “Relax, Soren,” she replies. “I’m just trying to get a handle on the local situation. In case there are any Jason Voorheeses out there in the woods.”

Goddamn lies.

I cock my head to the side and shoot her a wicked grin. “There arerealproblems out there. You want to waste time worrying about imaginary ones?”

I shouldn’t expect her to be honest with me but somehow I do, and the disappointment grows. If she’s in that much trouble, she needs to fucking say something.

My instincts scream at me. Something serious is going down, more serious than I thought before.

I tower over her yet worry bubbles up, sharp and fierce, along with a desire to protect her from whatever creeps or ghouls are really there, imaginary or otherwise.

She’s shaking again and paler than I’ve ever seen her. The dark circles underneath her eyes have only gotten worse since her arrival.

She takes a step away but there’s nowhere to go.

I slide my grip from her wrist to her bicep. “Gilli, if you’re in trouble, you have to tell me.”