Warner doesn’t address his choice to disrobe, even when he toes off his boots and shucks off his shorts. The guy stands in only his boxer briefs, and I’m not even able to admire the view because we’re being stalked by a deadly animal.

“I thought she might leave us alone, but with her cubs nearby …” Finally, he looks at me, his expression more serious than I’ve ever seen it. “When I say go, you need to run as fast as you can back to the truck.”

Something about his phrasing throws me off. “You mean, we’ll be running to the truck.”

Another brief headshake. “Mountain lions are hardwired to give chase.”

“You want to use me as bait?” I squeak.

“No. I’m going to distract it while you get away.”

He steps away from me, as if giving me room to sprint. Even with my aching feet, I know I can still run, especially if my life depends on it.

But not if it means leaving Warner behind to deal with a wild animal on his own.

“I’m not doing that.”

“Zoey”—his voice is so tense that I can almost imagine cracks running through it—“I know you’re scared, but I promise I won’t let it get to you.”

“I am scared. But I’m not leaving you. Two against one is better odds.” I flick off the safety on the bear spray, trying my best to make out any moving shapes in the darkness.

“I can take care of myself,” he growls.

Now, I’m the one shaking my head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Zoey, I need you to go. Now.” There’s an edge of desperation to his command.

Since I can’t find the animal in the shadows, I turn my attention and my glare to Warner. “I won’t leave you.”

Agitation radiates off him. As he steps toward me, I watch his amber eyes flit between my face and the surrounding woods. In the fading twilight, his irises look black.

When Warner grips my upper arms, I half expect him to give me a shove toward the truck. Instead, he backs me up against a thick tree trunk.

“They attack from behind. Stay here. Keep your spray out. And take this.” Faster than I can blink, Warner crouches by his shorts to pull an item from his pocket and is back at my side. He presses a large pocketknife into my hand. When I flip the blade open, I find it’s longer than any of my fingers and looks wickedly sharp.

Then, he steps away, backing into the road.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Is this some weird making-yourself-bait thing?”

Warner drags his desperate gaze over me. “Don’t be scared, Zoey. Please, trust me. You don’t need to be scared.”

“It’s a mountain lion! I can’t help it!”