Knox''s car follows


    behind mine the entire way to his house. I try not to overthink it. Try not to let what he said mess with my head. But it sits there anyway.


    ''I think you might be in danger.''


    Who or what am I in danger from?


    I nce at my rearview mirror again. His headlights still follow. It''s a reminder of the conversation he refused to have until we reached his house.


    What if it''s something serious? What if someone''s watching me right now? I hold the wheel tighter,


    heart ticking a little faster as I scan the darkened sidewalks.


    I shake my head..


    This is ridiculous.


    I shouldn''t be spiraling like this, but Knox has this infuriating habit of withholding information until he''s ready to share-


    and meanwhile, I''m left to drown in my own anxiety.


    It''s a relief when I finally pull into his driveway and park. I


    sit there for a moment, hands still on the wheel, trying to catch my breath. His engine cuts a beatter, and I watch through the rearview mirror as he steps out.


    I get out, mming the door behind me.


    "We''re at your house, Knox," I say.


    "I can see that."


    He walks to me and ces a warm hand around my arm, steering me toward the door.


    "Now would be a good time to start talking," I continue. "Who''s after me?"


    He doesn''t say anything until we''re inside. The moment the door


    clicks shut, I toe off my shoes. Knox does


    the same, as meticulous as ever, before heading straight for the bar. He pulls a bottle of scotch from the top shelf and grabs two sses.


    I toss my bag on the couch with more force than necessary and follow him.


    "Come have a drink," he says as he uncorks the bottle.


    Settling into one of the chairs, I reply, "You didn''t even ask if I like scotch."


    He pours the amber liquid into both sses and pushes one across the counter toward me.


    "There''s only one way to find out. Drink."


    usha / опер


    "You''re annoying." I grab the ss and down the whole thing in one go. The burn is instant.


    "You should probably slow down," he says. "That shit is strong."


    "Why?" I set the empty ss down with a satisfying thud. "There''s no reason not to get drunk in your house. You''re my almighty protector who, of course, hasn''t told me what he''s protecting me from." He downs his drink next, refills both, then stares at the freshly poured ss with concentration. Man, if I could read minds, I''d be tearing through his right


    now.


    I count in my head, trying to be patient,


    "You remember that Russian luby?" he finally says.


    The questiones as a surprise.


    "Do you mean the one from the night you had a bad dream?" I ask.


    "It wasn''t just a dream. It was a memory."


    I wait, careful not to push. This is one of those ces I''ve learned to tread lightly-


    Knox''s past. His years in service. I don''t know the full story of what happened overseas and at home


    before he left. But whatever it is, I only hope it hasn''tpletely charged him. Every now and then, I catch a glimpse of the man he might''ve been before it all went dark. The man he might still be if someone co "What is it you wanted to tell me about the luby?" I ask carefully.


    He lifts his eyes from the


    drink and stares into mine. "The man who always sang that luby, we called him T-


    Bone. Used to be a cheerful fellow.


    I nod. "That''s the man who got captured with you, right?"


    "Yes."


    "Did he die before or after you escaped?"


    Silence.


    Then, "I left him there alive. But when we couldn''t


    find himter, we assumed he''d been killed and buried."


    I wait.


    "Turns out," Knox continues, "he''s very much alive. And until I know why he''s taken an interest in you, you''re not leaving my sight."


    My heartbeat falters.


    "Hold up. He''s alive? When did you discover this? And why did you say he''s interested in me?"


    "His name''s Mateo Torres. Does that ring a bell?"


    My mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.


    "Mateo?" I whisper. “The same Mateo I just had dinner with?"


    "Yup."


    "Why would he want to hurt me?"


    "I don''t know."


    I shift in my seat, pushing a bit away from the bar. "I can''t just


    stop going to work, Knox, because you think my boss ns to harm me. Why would he promote me if he has bad ns?"


    "Could be Hunter''s doing. I believe


    Hunter''s an unaware participant i Mateo''s game. Mateo''s probably rolling with the promotion suggestion because it solves the problem of keeping you close."


    "Keeping me close for what?"


    "I''ll have those answers soon. You just sit right in this house and don''t go anywhere."


    He doesn''t really expect me to drop everything and start living in fear just because of a hunch, does he? That''s like saying the man bought an entire firm just to get revenge on a guy he knew in the army years ago.dt sounds dramatic. Paranoid. Borderline unhinged. And maybe that''s exactly what Knox is feeling, but still-locking me inside his house because some ghost from his past resurfaced? That''s not protection. That''s control. And I''m not going to


    y along just because he''s ufortable with Mateo being back.


    "Do you know how to use a gun?" he asks suddenly, after knocking back another shot.


    "A gun?"


    "I gotta get you one."


    "I don''t need it. I hate guns."


    "You don''t have to like them. You just have to know how to use them. We''ll begin lessons tomorrow."


    "Woah, slow down, Rambo. You''re really taking all this too far."


    "Taking your protection too far?"


    I exhale, trying to think straight. Before Knox, I used to think my


    dad was the most paranoid person I''d ever met. Now? Knox is giving him a run for his


    money.


    "I''m not stopping work, Knox," I say. "For the


    sake of your paranoia, I''ll let you arm me. But I''m not quitting my job right when I''m about to be promoted."


    "It''s not like you need the money. I gave you that card."


    "Which I said didn''t need. I can take


    care of myself. This is my life we''re talking about. I''m not throwing it down the drain because of some hunch Or is there something else I''m missing here? Did you do something to him?"


    "It''s the captain''s duty to protect his troops. He might be feeling like I failed him."


    "And the solution is to attack me?"


    "You never know what''s going through a survivor''s mind, especially one who went through a longer time of torture. I don''t want you around him."


    I sigh. "I understand that you care about me, Knox-"


    “I don''t just care about you," he says, voice suddenly low and firm. “I love you, you stubborn woman. And I want you to sit your ass at home where I know you''re safe for the time