Page 52 of Burned

She looks toward the cabin. Toward us. I don’t even know if the camera goes both ways, if she can see us, but it feels like I know the moment she finds him.

Rafe says something unintelligible.

I go very, very still.

And the woman I thought was buried in ash lifts one trembling hand.

And waves.

Rafe asks, “Should we bring her in?”

“No,” Lucian says.

The word cracks through the room.

Everyone looks at him.

Even Isobel, outside on the camera feed, seems to pause as if she heard him through the walls.

Lucian’s face has gone hard. I can’t read his emotions. Finally, he says, “She does not enter this house. Not with Erin here.”

Blaze’s brows lift. “We’re interrogating her in the snow, then?”

Blaze doesn’t sound like he has any soft feelings towards her. That makes me feel better than it should. Petty.

Blaze cuts him a look. “We have cars. We have other buildings.”

Rafe says, “We’ll figure it out.”

Blaze lifts both hands. “Just checking logistics.”

Rafe looks at Lucian. Lucian stares at the screen. The beautiful woman stares back.

I feel my world crumbling.

“If Carlos sent her,” Rafe says, “then leaving her outside is exactly what he expects us to do. He wants chaos. He wants you to be reactive.”

“I’m not reactive,” Lucian growls.

Gregory, the little brother and the only one who could say something to him without being unalived, looks like he wants to speak some sense into Lucian. He runs a hand through his hair, deciding to stay quiet.

Unfortunately for Gregory’s brother, I haven’t formed that kind of restraint yet.

I glance at the screen again.

Isobel stands very still, trying not to let her shivering show. Snow clings to the hem of her coat.

But there is something else in her stillness. Not only fear. Not only cold.

Guilt.

Whatever haunted her was not only what Carlos had done to her. Some of it was what she had let him do.

She must be freezing. Annoyingly, that bothers me. These men are letting her stand on the porch while they argue, and it’s warm here.

I do not want to do it. But I’m a girl’s girl, and he asked me to trust him. She should come inside.

“She’s not dressed warmly enough,” I say. “You have to let her in.”