I set down the shears, move to the cot, and watchBriar sleep. Her breathing is steady, her face relaxed in a way I’ve never seen it before. Some of her hair has fallen across her cheek. Without thinking, I reach out and brush it back behind her ear.
The gesture feels strangely intimate, more so than guiding her hands with the pestle or steadying her when she swayed. This is something else, something I probably shouldn’t be doing.
I pull back my hand quickly, but the damage has been done. I’m aware of her now in a way I wasn’t before. Not just as a responsibility or a shared secret, but as a person. A woman.
Shit.
I turn away, move back to my workbench. Focus on the plants, on what makes sense. Not on the sleeping woman in my bed or the way her hair felt against my fingers or how the search lights are getting closer, cutting through the fog outside.
Not on how complicated everything has suddenly become.
Chapter 13
Damiano
I’ve been working for about an hour when I hear her stir, a small sound at first, then shifting on the cot. I glance over, thinking she’s just adjusting in her sleep, but her eyes are open, and she’s watching me.
“Hey,” I say, setting down my clippers. “Thought you’d be out till morning.”
“What time is it?” Her question is thick with sleep, slurred around the edges.
“Almost midnight.”
She blinks slowly, still half under the influence of the herbs. “Did anyone come looking for me at the house?”
“Not yet, but they will.” I sit on the edge of the cot. “They’ll come through the grounds tonight, probably. Viktor doesn’t waste time.”
She struggles to sit up, the herbs making her movements clumsy. “What do we do?”
“Nothing. We stay calm.” I steady her with ahand on her shoulder. “Listen to me. This is important. They’ll come and look around without permission. It’s how things work here.”
“But they can’t just?—”
“They can. They will. But they won’t find anything.” I rest my hand on her arm, steadying her. “They don’t know the maze like I do. The heart of it, where we put him, is nearly impossible to find if you don’t know the path.”
She nods, absorbing this. “The police?”
“Not yet. Maybe never.” I run a hand through my hair, pushing it back from my face. “Heathens Hollow likes to handle shit themselves. Always has.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that before they call the mainland police, they’ll exhaust every option here. Search parties. Questioning. Bribes for information.” I watch her face carefully. “Tomorrow, expect people to come asking questions. Viktor, maybe others.”
“What do I tell them?” The fog of the herbs is clearing from her eyes, replaced by fear.
“Nothing useful. You had a party. There were tons of people you didn’t know. The party got bigger than you expected. You were tired, went to bed early.” I squeeze her arm gently. “You’ve never even met Liam Bastian. Not that you remember, anyway.”
“Right.” She nods firmly. “If they ask about him specifically, I was tired. There were so many people. I wouldn’t remember one face in the crowd.”
“Exactly. And you don’t know anything about him going missing.”
“I don’t know it,” she echoes, nodding slowly. “I had a party. It got out of hand. I went to bed early. I don’t know everyone who was there.”
“Good.” I check my watch. “It’s too late for them to disturb you tonight. The main house is off-limits still. But tomorrow, be ready.”
She nods, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Good.”
I move closer, checking to see if she needs anything. Water, maybe. “How do you feel?”