Hayden came alone, as per my request. No Shaun. No dark-suited shadows. Just Hayden at the tree line, jacket zipped to his throat, shoulders set like he had rehearsed how not to flinch. The wind combed the needles overhead and carried his scent ahead of him, smoke, iron, and the sharp bite of nerves.
“Come in,” I said. He hesitated on the step. His eyes flicked to the doorframe, the hinges, the window latch, cataloging exits the way we were trained to. Then he nodded and crossed into Thorne’s cabin like he expected it to bite.
“Close it,” Thorne said from the hearth. Hayden shut the door. The latch clicked. He didn’t turn his back on Thorne. He didn’t turn his back on me either. He found the exact middle of the room and stood there, careful to touch nothing.
“You invited me,” he said to
