The snow bit into Lila’s skin as Adrian carried her away from the wreckage of the cabin, his grip unrelenting. The fire still roared behind them, an angry beast devouring every secret she had tried—and failed—to erase. Smoke curled into the sky, a funeral pyre for the truth.

She shivered against him, not from the cold, but from the way his fingers pressed into her ribs, possessive and punishing.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his breath hot against her temple. “I’ve got you.”

Safe.

The word was a lie, but she clung to it anyway, burying her face in the crook of his neck. The scent of gasoline and burning wood clung to him, but beneath it was something darker, muskier—something that made her stomach tighten despite herself.

Adrian walked without hesitation, his boots crunching through the snow toward the tree line. She hadn’t noticed it before—a narrow path, half-hidden by frosted branches.

“Where are we going?” she whispered.

His lips brushed her ear. “Somewhere no one will find us.”

The promise—or threat—sent a shiver down her spine.

The second cabin was smaller, nestled deep in the woods like a predator lying in wait. The windows were dark, the porch sagging slightly under the weight of untouched snow. Adrian shouldered the door open, stepping inside with Lila still in his arms.

The air was stale, thick with dust and disuse. But there was a bed. A stove. A door that led to a bathroom.

He set her down gently, his hands lingering on her waist as if he couldn’t bear to let go. His gaze raked over her—her soot-streaked face, her trembling lips, the way her clothes clung to her, damp with melted snow.

“You’re freezing,” he said, voice rough.

She was. But the way he looked at her—like she was something to be devoured—made heat pool low in her belly.

Adrian reached for the hem of her sweater, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her stomach. “Let me take care of you.”

She should have pulled away. Should have fought.

Instead, she let him peel the fabric from her body, his touch deliberate, slow. His knuckles grazed her ribs, her collarbone, the frantic pulse at her throat. Everywhere he touched, her skin burned.

When she stood before him in nothing but her bra and panties, his breath hitched.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging a thumb over the curve of her hip. “Look at you.”

She didn’t dare speak. Didn’t dare move.

Then—

His hands were on her again, turning her toward the bathroom. “Shower,” he commanded. “Now.”

The water was scalding, steam curling in the air as Adrian stepped in behind her, naked and unashamed. His body was a map of scars and sinew, every inch of him honed into something dangerous.

And he was hard.

Lila’s breath caught as he crowded her against the tile, his cock pressing into the small of her back.

“Turn around,” he growled.

She obeyed.

The moment she faced him, his hands were in her hair, tilting her head back under the spray. Water sluiced over her skin, washing away the ash, the fear, the lies. His thumbs traced her cheekbones, her lips, before sliding down to cup her breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, rolling her nipples between his fingers.

She gasped, arching into his touch.

Adrian smirked, his other hand slipping between her thighs. “And so wet for me already.”

She was. God, she was.

His fingers circled her clit, teasing, relentless. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” she choked out.

“Say it.”

She dug her nails into his shoulders. “I want you.”

He rewarded her with a thrust of two fingers inside her, curling them just right. Her knees buckled, but he held her up, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue.

She could taste the smoke on his lips. The violence. The hunger.

When he pulled back, his eyes were black with need. “I’m going to fuck you,” he said, voice raw. “And you’re going to come on my cock like you’ve been starving for it.”

She was.

He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the wall. The cold tile bit into her back, a sharp contrast to the heat of him as he lined himself up and pushed inside with one brutal thrust.

Lila cried out, her nails scraping down his chest. He was everywhere—filling her, stretching her, owning her.

Adrian groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

Then he moved.

Each stroke was deliberate, deep, his hips grinding against her in a rhythm that had her seeing stars. The water cascaded over them, mixing with the sounds of skin slapping skin, of her breathless whimpers, of his guttural curses.

“That’s it,” he rasped, biting her shoulder. “Take me. All of me.”

She did.

Her climax hit her like a freight train, her body clamping around him as pleasure tore through her. Adrian followed with a groan, spilling inside her with a shudder, his grip on her hips near-bruising.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—panting, tangled, wrecked.

Then he kissed her again, slow and filthy.

“We’re not done,” he murmured against her lips.

And she knew—

She was his now.

In every way that mattered.