RYKER’s POV

We are ten feet against the house when she stops. Just ahead, I can see the logs of wood placed there specifically for sitting. 

I look at her. “Why did you stop?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, the oversized jacket sleeves swallowing her hands. The gauze on her forehead catches the light, a stark white against her dark hair. My fists tighten at my sides. 

"How long were you following me?" she asks. Her voice carrying a quiet challenge, instead of fear. 

"From the window," I answer. My tone comes out rougher than I intend. 

She blinks and surprise flickers across her face like starlight. "You...