GageI don’t like bringing her into town, and she knows it.Mara stood in the cabin’s kitchen doorway in my hoodie, arms crossed like she lived there. The view of her in my clothes made my skin hot. Put thoughts in my head I had to shake away.The ward stone in the baseboard killed her signal and kept her here. The bond kept tugging anyway, reacting every time her gaze slid over me like a challenge.“You said one lead,” she said.“I said you come with me to verify one lead,” I corrected. “Not that you get to freelance.”She lifted her chin. “Same thing.”“It’s not.” I checked the bag: cuffs, zip ties, gauze, silver wrap, burner, keys. Then I shut it. “Rules.”Her eyes narrowed. “Let me guess—don’t breathe.”“Rule one: you stay within arm’s reach in public.”“I’m not a toddler.”“You’re a target,” I said. “Rule two: you don’t speak unless I ask you a direct question.”She opened her mouth anyway.I stepped closer until the bond flared and her breathing hitched. “Rule three: if I put my
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