The knock on the cabin door cuts through sleep like a blade, sharp and insistent, and I jolt awake with my heart already racing before my brain catches up to where I am. For a second the room is all shadows and half remembered warmth, Axel’s arm heavy across my waist and Atticus close enough behind me that I can feel his breath against my shoulder, steady and grounding even as adrenaline spikes through me.
“Get up,” Axel murmurs quietly, already moving, the blanket shifting as he sits up and reaches for his jeans, his tone all instinct and urgency without panic.
I scramble too, fumbling for my clothes in the dim light, pulling on whatever I can find fastest because the knocking comes again, louder this time, impatient, and whoever it is clearly isn’t going to wait for us to be ready. Att
