Page 71 of You've Got The Love
When he looks back, his voice is low. “Someone’s moving along the side of the cabin.”
My pulse surges into my throat so hard it makes me dizzy. “Do you think?—”
“It’s them,” he says simply.
The footsteps pause. Then—the faint rattle of the front door handle. Not loud, not forced, just…tested. A slow push down and release, as if the person behind it has all the time in the world.
Bas motions me back from the door. I force my legs to move, retreating toward the couch, every step feeling like it might give me away. My heart is a solid, pounding weightagainst my ribs, so loud I’m sure they can hear it through the walls.
The handle moves again. This time it holds a fraction longer before it releases, and I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop the sound building in my throat.
We wait, barely breathing, the air thick enough to choke on.
Then the crunch of snow again, moving toward the side window. My chest feels too tight, my breath too shallow, and I swear the whole curtain shifts with the thud of my heartbeat.
I watch the fabric’s outline bend slightly—not from wind, but from someone brushing against it on the other side.
“They’re looking in,” I whisper, my voice trembling so much it barely sounds like mine. My hands are shaking, and I press them to my sides, but it doesn’t help.
Bas moves toward the front of the cabin; eyes locked on the sound. “They’re mapping us,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
The footsteps drift toward the back, and the next sound is another door handle tested—slower this time, like they’re feeling for a weakness. My stomach knots so hard it hurts. I picture a gloved hand curling around the metal, twisting, trying to coax it open. For one wild second, I’m certain the latch will give, and the door will swing inward, and I don’t know if I’ll scream or stop breathing altogether.
For a few minutes, it’s just that—quiet testing,circling, never rushing. I can feel every second crawling past, my muscles locked, my jaw aching from clenching it too hard.
Then the sound fades, swallowed by the snow.
We stand there for a long time, listening, the fire’s light flickering over the walls, throwing shadows that seem to twitch at the edges of my vision.
Finally, Bas lets out a slow breath. “They’re not going away,” he says. “They’ll try again.”
I think of Dad on the other end of the line earlier, promising he’s coming, telling me not to get clever. I picture him riding through the dark, my dad’s MC cutting across snowy roads fromDenmark, but I have no idea if they’ll get here beforeTheReapersdecide waiting isn’t worth it. The thought makes my chest feel hollow.
I meet Bas’s eyes, and my voice is steadier than I expect when I say, “Then we stay ready.”
He nods once.
Outside, the snow keeps falling, thick and steady, as if it has no idea the world has teeth.
Chapter 39
Bastiaan
The cabin feels smaller now. Not because anything’s changed in the walls or the floor, but because there’s this tight, lingering pressure in the air from earlier. That knock of adrenaline hasn’t gone anywhere—it’s just settled into my bones, leaving my muscles stiff and my chest heavy.
Amber’s curled up in the armchair by the fire, a blanket pulled tight around her shoulders. She’s looking at the flames, but I can tell she’s not seeing them. I’m the same—staring at things without really looking, because all I can hear in my head is the sound of boots crunching in the snow and door handles being tested.
We haven’t talked much since it happened. I think we’re both still listening, half expecting to hear it again.
I should say something. I should walk over, crouch down in front of her, take her hands and tell her it’s okay. But the words don’t come.
Because I’mnot sure itisokay.
I’m not built for this. I’m not the man who can stand at a window with a gun and keep danger out. I’m not trained; I’m not prepared for this kind of shit. And tonight made that clearer than ever. I can’t pretend I’m some kind of shield when the truth is, if they’d wanted in badly enough, they’d be in. Yes, I’d jump in front of a bullet for her, but that’s about all I could do.
That thought opens a door in my head I don’t want to go through, but it’s already swinging wide. Back to another night, another moment when I thought everything would be fine until it wasn’t.
The hospital hadthatsmell—disinfectant and something sharper underneath.
