Cold autumn rain lashed against my face. I dragged my battered suitcase up the wooden steps of the cabin. The porch boards groaned under my weight, protesting the intrusion.

"Don't go near him," the tavern owner had warned me yesterday, wiping a dirty glass with a dirtier rag. "Silas Thorne is violent. He'll snap you in half just for looking at him."

"I just need a room," I had told the old man. "I can pay a little."

"Not there, you won't. Nobody goes to the Thorne property. The man is a beast. He hates company, and he hates strangers even more."

I had no other choice. My knuckles rapped against the heavy oak door.

The wind howled, drowning out the sound. I knocked again, harder, my fist aching from the cold.

The lock clicked. The door swung inward.

Silas filled the frame. He was a mountain of a man, casting a long, dark shadow over the threshold. An oppressive weight radiated from him, a silent warning to turn around and run. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were like chipped flint.

I didn't move.

"What do you want?" His voice was gravel, scraping against the damp air.

"I need a place to stay." I gripped the plastic handle of my suitcase. "Just for a little while."

He stared at me. For a split second, his jaw tightened. His chest expanded as he inhaled, his nostrils flaring just a fraction. He was taking in the cold air between us—taking in my scent.

A strange flicker crossed his eyes. It looked like pure shock. His entire massive frame went rigid, as if a ghost had just appeared on his porch. But just as quickly as the emotion surfaced, he crushed it. His expression hardened into stone, wiping away any trace of recognition.

"You're lost," he said, pushing the door to close it.

I shoved my wet boot into the gap. "I'm not lost. I was told you live here. Alone."

"Then you were told wrong. Get off my porch."

"Please," I said, my voice steady despite the shivering in my chest. "The town is miles back. The rain is turning to ice. If you lock me out, I'll freeze."

"Not my problem."

"It will be when you have to drag my frozen body off your steps tomorrow morning."

Silas paused. He looked down at my boot, then up to my face. His eyes were cold, calculating.

"You aren't afraid of me?" he asked.

"Should I be?"

"People in town talk. I assume you've heard."

"I heard you're violent," I said, wiping a streak of freezing rain from my cheek. "I heard you've hurt people who crossed into your territory. I also heard you broke a man's arm just for trespassing."

"I broke both his arms," Silas corrected, his voice deadpan. "And his nose."

"Well, I don't plan on trespassing. I plan on being a guest."

He let out a harsh, humorless sound. "And you think those rumors are lies?"

"I think I'm freezing to death on your porch," I countered. "I don't have anywhere else to go. You're the only one out here. I don't think you'll hurt me."

"You don't know me."

"Then prove the town right. Slam the door on my foot."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and thick. The rain hammered the tin roof above us. Silas kept his gaze locked on mine. He was searching for something, peeling back my layers with just a look. I held my ground, forcing my hands to stop shaking.

"Why come to me?" he asked, his tone dropping. "Why not the inn?"

"I don't have money for the inn. I can work for my keep here. I'll cook. I'll clean."

"I don't need a maid."

"Then you need quiet company. I won't bother you."

He leaned closer. The scent of woodsmoke and rain rolled off his clothes. "You're taking a massive risk, little girl."

"My name is Elowen. And I'm out of options."

He stared at my face. His eyes darted to my lips, then back up to my eyes. He swallowed hard.

"If you steal from me, I'll break your fingers," he finally said.

He stepped back, pulling the door wide open.

"I don't steal," I said, dragging my suitcase over the threshold.

"Take off your boots. Don't track mud into the hall."

The inside of the cabin smelled like pine and old leather. It was warm, a sharp contrast to the freezing downpour outside. I kicked off my boots and left them by the door. Water pooled around my socks.

"Upstairs," Silas ordered. "First door on the right."

He didn't offer to help. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and hauled it toward the wooden staircase. The wheels caught on the edge of a thick woven rug. I yanked it, but the heavy bag tipped sideways, crashing onto the floorboards with a loud bang.

"Damn it," I muttered, bending down to right it.

Silas was there before I could grab the handle. His large hand clamped around the worn plastic grip.

"I've got it," I said, reaching for it at the exact same time.

My fingers brushed against his knuckles.

A sharp, scorching jolt snapped through my hand, racing straight up my arm. I yanked my hand back, gasping. The heat of it burned beneath my skin, unnatural and terrifying. It wasn't just a spark. It felt like a live wire had been pressed directly against my veins.

Silas flinched. He dropped the handle instantly. The suitcase hit the floor again with another loud thud, but neither of us looked at it.

"What was that?" I asked, rubbing my palm. My skin felt like it was humming, vibrating with an invisible energy.

He stared at his own hand for a long moment. His fingers curled into a tight fist. His throat

"Static," Silas muttered, breaking the heavy silence from the night before.

He had stared at his trembling hand, shoved it deep into his pocket, and stalked away without another word.

Now, morning sunlight filtered through the dirty kitchen windows. I kept my promise. I found a metal bucket, a frayed rag, and a block of harsh-smelling soap under the sink. I tied my hair back and got to work.

"You're moving my things," Silas said.

He stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a mug of black coffee. He kept a wide berth, pressing his massive shoulder against the doorframe to stay as far from me as possible. His eyes tracked my every movement.

"I'm cleaning them," I corrected, scrubbing a layer of grease off the wooden counter.

"I didn't ask you to scrub the kitchen."

"I said I'd work for my keep. This place is a disaster."

His jaw clenched. "I like it how it is."

"You like living in filth?"

"I like living alone."

He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room. He had to pass behind me to reach the sink. The space was incredibly narrow. As his broad chest brushed past my shoulder, a sudden, heavy pressure seized my lungs.

My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A strange, magnetic pull dragged my attention straight to him. My blood rushed through my veins, humming with the same wild energy from last night.

Silas froze mid-step.

The dark coffee in his mug sloshed over the rim, burning his knuckles. He didn't even flinch at the heat. His head tilted, leaning just an inch toward my neck. He inhaled sharply.

"Do I smell bad?" I asked, gripping the edge of the wet counter.

"What is that?" His voice was a low, rough scrape.

"Cheap soap?"

"No." He stepped back quickly, putting three feet of distance between us. His chest heaved as he stared at me, his eyes wide with a frantic, chaotic energy. "You smell like..."

"Like what?"

He cut himself off. The vulnerability vanished, replaced instantly by cold, hard stone.

"Like the city," he snapped. "It's suffocating."

"I'll stay out of your way, then."

"See that you do." He dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain and marched out of the room.

By afternoon, I moved to the hallway. The wooden floorboards were warped and slick with soapy water. I dragged the mop in wide arcs, trying to ignore the constant prickle of awareness on the back of my neck. Silas sat in the living room, staring at an open book. He hadn't turned a page in an hour.

"You're using too much water," his voice boomed from the armchair.

"The wood is stained," I called back. "It needs soaking."

"You're going to rot the floor."

I turned around, leaning my weight on the wooden mop handle. "If you want it done your way, Silas, do it yourself."

"I told you I didn't need a maid."

"And I told you I pay my debts. A deal is a deal."

I shifted my stance to face him fully. My wet sock hit a puddle of soapy water. My foot shot out from under me.

"Ah!"

I braced for the bone-jarring impact of the hard wood. It never came.

A massive arm wrapped around my waist, hauling me upward with terrifying speed. Silas crushed me against his solid chest. His grip was iron-tight, his large fingers digging into my ribs to keep me upright.

The moment our bodies collided, that same scorching jolt erupted between us.

It shot through my veins, setting every nerve on fire. My skin buzzed. My heart slammed against my sternum, syncing perfectly with the rapid, thunderous beating of his own heart.

Silas let out a low, rough groan. His face dropped, burying his nose into my hair. He took a deep, dragging breath. The scent of pine, rain, and dark earth wrapped around me, clouding my senses.

A violent shudder ripped through his massive frame. He was shaking. The man who looked like he could snap trees in half was trembling while holding me.

For a split second, his grip tightened. He pulled me closer, erasing the last millimeter of space between us.

Then, his entire body went rigid.

He shoved me backward.

I stumbled, my hip slamming into the hallway wall to keep from falling.

"Watch where you're stepping!" Silas roared. His eyes were wild, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon.

"I slipped," I gasped, rubbing my bruised side.

"You're careless. You're going to break your neck, and I'll be the one dealing with the corpse."

"You didn't have to catch me."

"Next time, I won't."

He dragged a shaking hand down his face. He refused to look at me. He stared at the blank wall above my head, his jaw ticking furiously.

"Clean this up," he snapped. "And stay out of my sight."

He spun around and took the stairs two at a time, the wooden steps groaning under his weight.

Night fell, bringing a bitter chill to the cabin. The storm outside had turned to sleet, pelting the glass window of my small guest room.

I lay on the thin mattress, shivering uncontrollably. My sweater wasn't enough to block out the freezing draft creeping through the floorboards. I curled into a tight ball, rubbing my arms to generate heat.

A floorboard creaked out in the hallway.

I held my breath.

Heavy footsteps approached my door. They stopped right outside.

"Silas?" I whispered into the dark.

No answer.

A faint rustling sound came from the other side of the wood. Then, silence. The footsteps retreated, moving down the hall toward the master bedroom. His door clicked shut.

I threw off my thin sheet and crept across the freezing floor. I turned the knob slowly and peeked out into the dark hallway.

A thick, heavy wool blanket sat neatly folded on the floor right outside my room.

I picked it up. It was incredibly warm. I buried my face in the dark fabric. The scent of woodsmoke and pine hit my senses instantly. It was his blanket. He had brought it straight from his own bed.

I pulled it around my shoulders, letting the warmth soak into my freezing skin.

Through the thin walls, I heard a dull thud.

I pressed my ear against the cold plaster.

Silas was pacing in the room next door.

"Stop it," his voice rumbled, muffled by the wall. It sounded strained, laced with an agonizing frustration. "You don't know her. It's not her."

Another thud, like a fist hitting a wooden desk.

"Get her scent out of your head," he growled to himself.

I gripped the edges of the wool blanket, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.

Who did he think I was?

And why did my blood sing every time he came near?

I stepped back toward my bed, my eyes locked on the wall separating us. Then, a low, guttural snarl echoed from his room, followed immediately by the terrifying sound of glass shattering into a thousand pieces.

The passenger door of the rusted truck slammed shut, rattling the windows. Silas kept his hands clamped on the steering wheel, his knuckles stark white against the dark leather.

"You didn't have to drive me," I told him, breaking the suffocating silence.

"It's a three-mile walk to the high school," he replied, his voice rough. "And the sleet hasn't stopped."

"I've walked in worse."

"Not from my property." He threw the truck into gear. "I don't need the town thinking I leave girls to freeze on the shoulder."

I stared at the side of his face. His jaw was locked tight. Neither of us had mentioned the shattered glass I heard last night.

The tires crunched over the gravel parking lot. The moment we stepped out of the cab, the atmosphere shifted. Students loitering by the entrance froze. Whispers erupted, sharp and fast, cutting through the damp morning air.

"Keep your head down," Silas muttered, walking slightly ahead of me.

"I don't have anything to hide."

"They don't care about the truth."

We pushed through the double doors into the main corridor. The noise of slamming lockers and chattering teenagers died instantly. The crowd parted, pressing themselves against the metal lockers to give us a wide berth.

Three girls stood dead center in our path.

Maren Falk crossed her arms, her lips curled into a cruel sneer. Her two friends flanked her, mirroring her disgust.

"Well, look who finally hit rock bottom," Maren announced, her voice echoing in the quiet hall.

I stopped walking. "Move out of the way, Maren."

"Or what?" She took a step forward, her eyes darting to Silas before snapping back to me. "You'll have your pet monster attack me?"

"He's not a monster. Let us pass."

Maren let out a loud, theatrical laugh. "Are you really that desperate for attention, Elowen? You couldn't find a single guy in town to look at you, so you run to the beast in the woods?"

I let out a short, dry chuckle. Maren blinked, clearly expecting me to shrink away.

"You're pathetic," I said, my voice steady. "You block a hallway just to hear yourself speak. It's embarrassing."

Maren's face flushed a deep, ugly red. "You're a trashy little stray. Everyone knows what he does to people. He's a violent freak. Have fun getting your bones broken."

She reached out, aiming to shove my shoulder.

She never made contact.

Silas shifted. It was barely half a step, but the movement was lightning fast. He positioned his massive frame directly between Maren and me, completely shielding me from her view.

He didn't raise his hand. He didn't shout.

He just looked down at her.

His eyes narrowed into dark, frozen slits. A terrifying, oppressive aura radiated from his body, heavy enough to suck the oxygen straight out of the corridor. The sheer scale of him dwarfed the three girls.

Maren's hand dropped to her side. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

"Are you finished?" Silas asked. His voice barely rose above a whisper, yet it carried a lethal edge.

Maren took a frantic step backward, bumping into her friend. The color drained entirely from her face. She couldn't hold his gaze. She ducked her head, grabbed her friend's sleeve, and practically ran down the adjacent hallway.

The surrounding students scrambled to mind their own business. Lockers slammed shut. People hurried into classrooms.

Silas turned his head slightly, peering at me over his broad shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No. Thank you."

He didn't say another word. He just nodded once, turned, and walked toward the exit, leaving me to navigate the rest of the school day alone.

* * *

The drive back to the cabin was entirely different.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving a thick, gray fog rolling over the highway. Silas drove with one hand resting on the bottom of the wheel. The crushing tension from the morning had faded into a strange, heavy exhaustion.

"You shouldn't have laughed at her," Silas said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"She was being ridiculous."

"She was telling you to save yourself."

I turned in my seat to face him. "Why do you let them talk about you like that?"

"Because they're right."

"You didn't break anyone's bones today."

"That doesn't mean I haven't before." He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I heard what she called me. A monster. A freak."

"They're just stupid kids, Silas."

"They repeat what their parents say." He let out a hollow, bitter sound. It wasn't a laugh. It was the sound of a man who had accepted his own execution. "Ten years of isolation does things to a man's reputation. You become the town ghost. The boogeyman they use to scare their kids into behaving."

"You chose to live out here alone."

"I didn't have a choice."

"Everyone has a choice."

"Not me." His voice dropped, thick with a loneliness that caught me entirely off guard. "Some things are decided for you. You just have to live with the fallout."

I watched the way his throat worked as he swallowed. He looked tired. Not just physically exhausted, but deeply, fundamentally worn down.

"Is that why you hate having me at the cabin?" I asked softly.

He flicked his gaze to me for a fraction of a second. "I don't hate having you there."

"You told me to stay out of your sight."

"That was for your own good."

"I can take care of myself."

"Not against me, you can't."

The truck bumped over a pothole, jostling us both. My arm brushed against the center console. Silas immediately shifted his right leg away, ensuring no part of us touched.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" I pressed.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Then why did you break a glass in your room last night after bringing me a blanket?"

The truck swerved slightly. Silas slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the heavy vehicle to a sudden halt on the empty dirt road leading up to his property.

He threw the truck into park.

He turned to me, his entire body rigid. The raw, chaotic energy from the kitchen returned in full force. His eyes searched my face, scanning my features as if looking for a map only he could read.

"You heard that," he stated.

"I heard you talking to yourself. You said I wasn't her."

His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow bursts. He leaned closer, the scent of pine and rain washing over me.

"Who is she?" I demanded, refusing to back down.

He reached out. His large, calloused fingers hovered just an inch from my cheek. I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. The invisible static hummed in the air between us, making my blood race.

"You ask too many questions," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Give me one answer."

He dropped his hand and turned back to the windshield. "We have company."

I blinked, completely thrown by the sudden shift. I looked out the front window.

Parked directly in front of the cabin porch was a sleek, black SUV. A man in a tailored suit stood on the wooden steps, holding a silver briefcase.

Silas's expression hardened into pure ice.

"Get out of the truck," Silas ordered, unbuckling his seatbelt. "And whatever he says to you, do not tell him your real name."