16. Fiora

What will my father say when he finds out I'm staying on Heathens Hollow? Will he even care? Does he already see me as Braken's responsibility?

I should be happy to not have to go back into that penthouse where I'll be scrutinized by a man who cannot truly love me. Shared bloodline or not. Love doesn't exist in the Godwin family. Not after my mother died. Yes, I love my siblings, but we are all in survival mode and always have been. Which means we live solitary, almost selfish lives. We must worry about ourselves. We aren't far from being wild wolves, and only the strongest will survive. And frankly, I've never felt all that strong. It's shocking, actually, that my brother appeared to be the strongest out of all of us but was the first to die.

A part of me also feels I should refuse to stay at the cottage on principle alone. Simply because Braken demanded it. I shouldn't start off this marriage following his dictates as these might set the precedent that I will always follow what he says. But…

I really do want to stay.

Movement across the street and in the forest catches my eyes. It takes me a few moments to figure out what is out there. Tonight isn't a night of The Hunt. There are no red lights on, no girls in white nightgowns, but two men in bone masks are still lurking in the distance.

And I know exactly why.

"You're not even trying to be subtle that you both are stalking me anymore," I say when I storm up to the tree line outside the cottage. "I saw you both the first time you were out here. And you can remove the bone masks. I know who you are."

I saw them outside a few days ago but assumed they were either part of The Hunt and watching out of interest of possibly hunting me in the future. Or I thought that they were under Locke Hartwell's payroll watching me because I was friends with Storee, and he wanted to keep tabs on who I was and if I was any danger to the woman he loved. I wasn't so blind as to not see that I was being watched.

But now, I know I'm being watched, and by who, and why.

Merrick and Soren trade glances, their bone-clad faces devoid of expression. A silent agreement passes between them before they reach up to remove their masks.

They are both extremely sexy in their own, different ways.

Merrick has a chiseled jawline and a sharp nose that gives him an intimidating air. His dark hair, neatly combed back, complements his pale skin. His eyes, cold and calculating, hold a mysterious allure that's hard to resist.

Soren, on the other hand, has a more rugged look. His messy brown hair falls on his forehead in an endearing way. His skin is tanned and appears salt-beaten from the Pacific Northwest air, and his blue eyes convey an intensity that draws your attention and never lets go.

Soren clears his throat, his baritone voice breaking the silence. "You've got it all wrong," he says, scratching at his unkempt beard. "We're not stalking you. We're protecting you."

I squint and cross my arms over my chest, skeptically eyeing the pair. "Protecting me?" I sound more amused than I feel. "From what, precisely?"

"Braken asked us to watch over you when he can't," Merrick says.

"Braken?" I let out a surprised laugh. "Like he cares about my safety?"

"He's going to be your husband." A hint of impatience creeps into Soren's voice. "And his enemies are your enemies now, too."

Merrick folds his arms, tilting his head as an intrigued smile plays on his lips. "And it sounds like you have your own enemies, being a Godwin."

"Enemies." The weight of the word settles on my shoulders. "I think everyone forgets I've managed just fine before this little arranged marriage."

Soren and Merrick exchange another glance before Soren speaks. "I think your brother would have said the same thing."

I shift my gaze between them, considering their words. It's all a bit much to process—being watched over by two attractive men, getting married to a man against my will, and the Godwin name strangling me like a noose around my neck.

Merrick steps forward, breaking the invisible barrier between us. "We don't mean to scare you," he admits, almost reluctantly it seems. His dark eyes meet mine, and for a moment I see something other than cold indifference there.

"I'm not scared," I reply defiantly, but my voice wavers slightly.

"You should be," Merrick murmurs.

Soren intervenes again, giving Merrick an exasperated look before focusing on me. His gaze is softer, kinder than Merrick's. "What he means is... you're in danger."

I can't help the scoff that escapes my lips.

Soren shakes his head, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. "You're as stubborn as Braken claimed you were." His voice holds a note of admiration.

I ignore the thudding in my chest at the reference to Braken. "Well, Braken hasn't had much time to study me," I retort, but I can't entirely wipe out the blush blooming on my cheeks.

Merrick arches an eyebrow at me. "We all know he's had enough time."

"Actually." Soren steps even closer to me now. His breath sends a ticklish sensation up my spine. "We've all had plenty of time to study you."

I bite my lower lip, unable to tear my gaze away from Soren's hypnotic eyes.

This is not happening. Not right now, when my mind is a whirlwind of peril and chaos. When I'm being forced into a loveless marriage with a man who seems indifferent to my existence, when I'm being stalked—sorry, protected—by two men I don't know, who also happen to own a sex club.

"It's late," I say, feeling as if I need to take control of the situation. "I'm going inside, and you both can go back and tell Braken that I don't need masked babysitters. I'm good."

With that, I turn and march toward the cottage. I don't look back to see if they move to stop me. They don't, and the silence of the night seems to swallow their presence whole.

As I push open the front door, goosebumps rise on my arms. It's not the chilly evening wind that makes me shiver, but the knowledge that no matter what I say, these men are going to keep watching me. I'm not so naive as to think they'll simply walk away because I told them do so.

I slide out of my shoes and enter the kitchen, where I pour myself a generous glass of wine, trying but failing to shake off the knowledge that those men are most likely still in the woods across the street. I place my glass on the counter and move toward the window, peering out into the darkness. From here, I can barely make out their silhouettes in the moonlight. Even at this distance, Merrick's arrogant posture and Soren's calm demeanor are unmistakable.

The nerve of Braken Frost.

For all the arrogance and indifference he showed during our previous encounters, he has the audacity to send bodyguards to patrol my home. He mentioned security, but this is taking it too far.

Masked men. Who does that?

I draw a deep breath, trying to calm my pounding heart as I slowly sip the wine. The red liquid soothes my nerves marginally.

I force myself away from the window with a sigh, deciding to ignore them for tonight. It's not like I really have a choice in the matter.

I mean… I could run. But the fact that they wear masks—the same masks you wear during The Hunt—tells me all I needed to know.

If I run, they will chase.