Isabella paused, her back still to him. She could feel his gaze on her, the weight of his unspoken words pressing against the air between them. She exhaled slowly, fighting back the urge to just leave and pretend nothing had happened. She wasn't some fragile thing he needed to worry about. She wasn't about to let him see her in a weakened state, not when she had worked so hard to get here.
"Normal women would be dead by now," Cyrus had said.
The words lingered, pulling her thoughts in all kinds of directions. The truth was, she knew she'd been reckless. But she didn't need him—anyone, really—telling her that. She'd made it out of there fine, hadn't she?
Isabella tilted her head back, just enough for him to see the sharp edge in her eyes as she spoke, her voice steady but carrying a slight edge of defensiveness.
"I didn't need protection," she said slowly, purposefully. "I'm not some damsel in distress you need to babysit. The mountain's dangerous, but I can handle it."
