The old wall clock in the cabin ticked with merciless precision.
Camilla sat on the edge of the worn sofa, knees pulled close, her eyes flicking to the door every time the wind shifted outside. Xavier stood near the window, a dark silhouette against the moonlight, one hand resting on the hilt of the knife strapped to his thigh.
"Stop pacing," she said softly.
He glanced at her. "I'm not pacing. I'm counting."
Her brows furrowed. "Counting what?"
"How many heartbeats until midnight."
Her stomach knotted. "You make it sound like you're expecting a war."
"I'm not expecting one," he replied, his tone flat. "I'm promising it."
The words sent a shiver through her. Before she could respond, the sound came — soft at first, then sharper. The crunch of footsteps on frost-covered leaves.
Xavier's head turned toward the sound, every line of his body coiled tight. "They're here."
Camilla's breath quickened. "Who—?"
"Stay behind me," he ordered, his voice low but fierce.
The cabin door rattled once. Twice. Then the wood splintered as it was kicked open. Three men stepped inside, dressed in dark coats, eyes glinting like predators in the half-light.
One of them smiled coldly. "You've got something that doesn't belong to you, Manson."
"She's not a thing," Xavier said, his voice edged with steel.
The man's gaze slid to Camilla. "Pretty. No wonder you broke the rules."
Xavier moved then — not a step, but a blur. The first man hit the floor before his smile had time to fade, Xavier's knife pressed to his throat. "You want her, you go through me," he said, his tone deathly calm.
The other two lunged, but Xavier was faster. Camilla could only watch, frozen between fear and awe, as he disarmed one with a brutal twist of the arm and sent the other crashing into the wall.
When the last man groaned on the floor, Xavier straightened, his chest rising and falling sharply. A streak of blood marked his cheek, but his eyes were fixed only on her.
"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.
She nodded shakily. "I… think so."
He crossed to her in two strides, cupping her face in his hands. "You're safe now. I won't let them touch you."
Her voice trembled. "You could've been killed."
His lips curved faintly — not in humor, but in something darker, something that made her pulse race. "For you, Camilla, I'd risk worse."
The words undid her. She didn't remember moving, only that her mouth found his, the kiss fierce and desperate, tasting of adrenaline and something far more dangerous.
When they finally broke apart, the clock struck midnight.
And Xavier whispered against her lips, "This isn't over. They'll send more."