Chapter 25 · HEA Claim

"Take your hand off my door, Cain, or I swear I'll cut it off."

Cain's palm stayed flat against the wood.

He stood between Ella and the bedroom, blocking the only way out. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, black blood drying along his ribs. Her blood. The wound in his side matched the one burning under her collarbone.

"You won't cut me," he said.

"Try me."

His eyes dropped to the knife in her hand. Then they came back to her face.

"Your hand is shaking."

"Because you keep bleeding on my floor."

"That's not why."

Ella stepped closer until the blade touched his stomach. Cain didn't move. He was too tall, too calm, too sure she would lower the knife first.

That was the problem with him. He always acted like the choice had already been made.

Behind him, the old manor groaned under the force of the storm outside. Three windows had shattered during the attack. The front hall was full of broken stone, blood, and the bodies of the men who had followed them home.

Home.

Ella hated that the word came to her at all.

"Move," she said.

"No.