By the time we make it back upstairs, the packhouse feels quieter. Not empty. Just… holding its breath before the last act.Cameron closes the bedroom door behind us, and the click of the latch sounds louder than it should. For a second, neither of us speaks.The adrenaline that carried him through the courtyard is fading. I can see it now - the stiffness in his movements, the tightness in his jaw.“You overdid it.” I say softly.“I stood and spoke. Like I should.”“You stood and bled through fresh stitches.” I point to his wound.He gives me a look that says I’m exaggerating.He is absolutely bleeding through fresh stitches.“Shirt.” I order.He arches a brow. "Don’t start with me.”A slow, almost amused exhale leaves him, but he obeys. Carefully. When he pulls the fabric over his head, I see the darkened gauze at his shoulder.My stomach tightens.“Cameron.”“It’s superficial.”“You were pretty hurt yesterday.”“And I’m still here.”I step closer, fingers brushing lightly over the b
Last Updated : 2026-02-20 Read more