Page 42 of Hunting Harbor

I pull away from his touch, drawing the blanket tighter around my shoulders like armor, though we both know it’s useless against him. My mind races through options, each more impossible than the last. The cabin is isolated, my clothes are gone, my phone… My phone.

My eyes meet his, and I try to keep my expression neutral, unreadable. “Can I—” My voice cracks and I swallow hard before trying again. “Can I at least check in with my best friend? She’ll worry if she doesn’t hear from me. I promise to call her yesterday.” I force the next words past the revulsion they cause. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Kairo’s eyes narrow slightly, assessing me. The calculating look sends ice through my veins—he weighs risks, considers angles, determines if this request is a threat to his control.

“Please,” I add, hating how pathetic I sound. “Lila will send someone looking for me if I disappear. She knows I come here with you.”

That isn’t entirely true. Lila knows I’m meeting someone at Pine Ridge Retreat, but I’ve been deliberately vague about Kairo. Just another in a series of stupid decisions that lead me here.

“Hmm.” He steps back, giving me breathing room. His body language shifts subtly: relaxed shoulders, open stance,performing the role of reasonable man rather than predator. “I suppose that would be sensible. We don’t want anyone interrupting our time together, do we?”

I nod, playing along. “Exactly. Just a quick call so she doesn’t worry.”

He studies me for another moment, then nods once. “Your phone is in the office. Wait here.”

As he leaves the kitchen, I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. This is my chance, my only chance, to send some signal to the outside world. But how? Kairo will be listening to every word. Any obvious cry for help will end with him cutting off the call and eliminating this small freedom. I need to be subtle, to plant seeds of concern without alerting him.

He returns less than a minute later, holding my phone in one hand and his in the other. “Before you call,” he says, tapping something on his screen, “let me just enable the Wi-Fi connection.”

My breath catches. The fucker has a Wi-Fi blocker. Of course he does. This cabin is a trap designed with meticulous attention to detail.

“There,” he says, sliding my phone across the counter. “Signal should be fine now.”

I pick up the phone with trembling fingers, hyper-aware of his eyes tracking my every movement. My lock screen shows severalmissed calls from Lila, the last one from late last night. Guilt and hope tangle in my chest—she’s already worried.

“Speaker phone,” Kairo instructs, tone casual but brooking no argument. “I’d like to say hello to your friend too.”

Of course. I’m not getting a private conversation. I swallow hard and nod, hitting Lila’s contact and putting the phone on speaker. The dial tone seems unnaturally loud in the kitchen’s tense silence.

“Harbor! Jesus fucking Christ, where have you been?” Lila’s voice explodes from the speaker after just one ring. “I’ve been calling you all night!”

I glance at Kairo, who gives me an encouraging nod, as if we’re just a normal couple fielding a call from a worried friend.

“Hey, Li. Sorry about that,” I say, working to keep my voice steady. “The reception up here is really spotty. I just got your messages.”

“Well thank fuck you’re alive. I was about to call the retreat and demand they send a search party into the woods for you.” Her voice carries the familiar mix of annoyance and relief that defines our decade-long friendship. “So? How’s the writing going? Is the cabin everything the mysterious guy promised?”

“The cabin is… beautiful, truly. Remote as hell, though.” I emphasize the last part, hoping she catches the hint.

“That’s the point, isn’t it? To get away from distractions?” Lila laughs. “So tell me about Mr. Mysterious. Is he as hot in person as you say? Must be since you take off with him like a bat outta hell. I still can’t believe you go off to a remote cabin with a guy you barely know, but I guess writers have to take risks for their art, right?”

Kairo smiles at that—a stretch of lips that doesn’t reach his eyes. He leans against the counter, arms folded across his chest, watching me with the focused attention of someone enjoying a private show.

“He’s…” I hesitate, searching for words that satisfy both Lila’s curiosity and Kairo’s scrutiny. “Intense. Not what I expect.”

“Ooh, intense how? Good intense or bad intense? Like, intense in bed or intense like he might have bodies buried in the yard?” She laughs again, the sound painfully normal against the surreal horror of my situation.

Kairo’s smile widens at her joke, a silent acknowledgment that makes my skin crawl.

“Lila, Jesus,” I force a laugh that sounds brittle even to my ears. “It’s not like that. We’ve been focused on my manuscript.”

“Uh-huh. You disappear into the woods with a random guy who offers to help with your writer’s block, and you expect me to believe you’re just working? Harbor Elliot, you’re the worst liar in the world.”

I close my eyes briefly. If only she knew how accurate and yet how wrong she is. “The manuscript is… coming along,” I say carefully. “Kairo’s been helping me explore some of the darker themes. The ones I’m afraid to really dive into before.”

I watch his reaction as I speak. His eyes glitter with approval, his head tilting slightly at my careful choice of words. A wave of nausea sweeps through me at how quickly I learn to please him.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” Lila continues, oblivious to the subtext. “Your agent’s been breathing down your neck for months. So this Kairo guy is good for you then, huh?”

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