This guy? He’s something else entirely. Mid-to-late thirties, tall, with an athletic build that makes his plain black T-shirt look almost criminally good. Dark hair, thick and just tousled enough to seem effortless. A close-trimmed beard frames his strong jawline, giving him a rugged edge. And his eyes—piercing, almost unnervingly focused—seem to register everything at once. Anyone can tell that this guy doesn’t just observe a room. He assesses it.

He looks like he belongs on a movie poster—one where there’s a motorcycle, a revenge plot, and just enough brooding to make the audience swoon. But he isn’t wearing a badge.

He reminds me of Atlas, but not in a way I can easily explain. They could be related, but probably not.

“So, I heard you need a place to stay,” Gale says, her tone light but her eyes sharp.

Talk about small-town gossip. This is the last thing I expected her to say. “No. I’m at the hotel,” I reply, casual as anything.

That year I spent in high school thespian club is finally paying off. My mother always said it was a waste of time, but she clearly underestimated my acting skills.

“Listen, I’m here to help you,” she says, lowering her voice just enough to force me to lean in to hear her.

She tells me a story—one that sounds too familiar for comfort. How her mother ran from this very town years ago, living under a new identity until the day she died.

“I didn’t even know who she really was,” she admits, her voice laced with something I can’t quite name. “But if it hadn’t been for the people who helped her, I don’t know what kind of life we would’ve had.”

I swallow hard, my pulse stuttering. Do they know I’m running away?

But how do they know? Did someone tip them off?

My gaze flicks to Malerick, his expression unreadable. Does law enforcement have my face plastered on a bulletin board somewhere? Winston claiming I’m unwell and need to be escorted back home? Lost Heiress or something equally intense. Reward Offered.

People will do a lot for money.

I should leave. Now.

“Sorry about your mom,” I mumble.

“Thank you,” Gale says gently, pulling me back. “My point is, I want to be there for women who have to run, like my mom did. If you need a safe place, we’ve got a guest room at our house. It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable. You’d be welcome to stay while you figure things out. My husband and his brothers can even look into getting you a job with their timber company. Might pay better than what Delilah can offer.”