The television flickered so quietly that you could probably even hear the pitter-patter of a mouse. The flickering light of the pictures only dimly illuminated the living room and the glow of the dancing flames in the stone fireplace.

But there was no room in Ryker's head to follow the flickering conversation on the screen for more than a few seconds.

He glanced back at the window from which he had seen the figure before and from there to the others. Alert and restless, almost paranoid, he peered into the night, as tensely watchful as the sheepdog at the door. Anger still seethed in his veins, straining his already tense nerves even more, as his concern for Eve was driving him crazy.

What was that all about?

Why was the person lurking around out there like a criminal?

Was it Dylan, or had he sent someone else?

Did he follow her all the time, or did he come by from time to time?

Why didn't he show himself? Was he afraid of Eve's reaction?

Was he going to check on Eve and Liam?

Would he look for Eve?

Did he have a chance of finding her?

Countless questions made it impossible for him even to begin finding peace. As if the sea of his feelings and thoughts wasn't already turbulent enough.

In his delirium, between seething anger and worry, he stormed up the stairs when he got home to check on Liam. Fortunately, everything was fine with the boy. Liam hadn't noticed any of the commotion - luckily, otherwise, Ray would have needed an explanation. After all, he had shouted his father's name into the night to get the fleeing figure to stop. But apparently, the game really exhausted Liam. Sometimes, the children's deep sleep was a blessing because he didn't seem to realize anything was wrong.

The incident outside the house still weighed heavily on Ray's mind, even though Chief had stopped barking some time ago. Now, the dog was in front of the fireplace, getting some well-deserved warmth. Ray had thought long and hard about leaving him outside... but in the end, he was concerned for the dog's welfare. Eve would certainly have ripped his head off if anything had happened to her son or the dog.

Since then, he had been sitting in front of the flickering screen, which couldn't hold his attention in the slightest. But at least the faint sounds filled his surroundings. They broke the silence that might otherwise have worn him down. All his senses were alert, even though his thoughts were racing.

Again and again, the camouflage colors flashed before his inner eye as they hurriedly pushed their way into the bushes. Accompanied by the rustling of the leaves. Unconsciously, his fingertips ran over the thick beard on his chin.

There weren't many who wore something like this. Soldiers, mercenaries, hunters ... Rarely a camper. But this wasn't the time for adventurous freaks who cut their way through the bushes and frightened people with cruel jokes. Not only because Silvershore was so remote. As soon as the first snow fell, Eve had made it clear to him that it was impossible to get away. Many roads then became utterly impassable. It was far too cold for a student to venture into the forest to camp. Especially not when you think of the bears and wolves increasingly hunting to stock up on food for the winter.

He knew that there was a strange hermit nearby who also hunted. Riona had told him about it when he asked her where they got the venison on the first evening. The guy probably brought the game sometimes and supplied the hut with wood. But why would the man, crazy or not, be sneaking around the hut at this time of night? It was far too late and too dark to hunt.

What if he had needed help? But he quickly pushed this thought aside. No, definitely not. Then why would he sneak through the bushes like a robber and run away from him instead of making himself noticed?

No, there was only one logical answer, and it had a name: Dylan.

Outside the door, he heard the roar of an engine mixed with the crunch of gravel. He immediately turned his head jerkily back to the window and saw a bright cone of light illuminating the dark panes for a moment before the headlights slipped past again. His whole body immediately tensed as he quickly freed himself from the cushions and literally jumped to his feet.

His gaze flew to Chief, who had raised his head and twitched his ears. The dog seemed to be listening, then he turned onto his stomach and looked towards the front door—but he didn't strike. This probably meant that whoever had come was known and familiar to the dog. Astonished, he glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was just after two.

He hadn't partied for years, but it wasn't the right time to come home from a bar. Just getting to the nearest 'town' took almost an hour. So if he calculated back ... No, that couldn't be right. But he couldn't explain Chief's calmness any other way. It simply HAD to be the woman.

His blood began to rush again at this thought. Cold crept into his body like drifting snowflakes and displaced his anger at Dylan. What if something had happened?

The spark of that thought was enough to steer his tired legs quickly into the hallway. His fingers trembled as he turned the key and opened the door. But what awaited him made his blood run cold for a moment ...

The trembling in his fingertips stopped abruptly as his hand clenched into a fist. As quickly as the cold had crept into his limbs, it disappeared under the flare of the mixture that spread through his veins: a mixture of burning rage and an explosion of jealousy that dug into his chest and stomach like a dagger with a serrated blade. His breath instantly caught in his throat.

"I promised Riona I'd get you safely to bed ..."

He had opened the door just as the words left the blond's lips before his eyes. The slender, tall body bent over the smaller figure before his eyes as if in slow motion, and the lips, framed by the angular jaw, stroked his cheeks and the corners of his mouth ...

Beneath his skin, his muscles screamed under the tension that flooded him. Like the string of a bow, the moment before the shot. He squinted his eyes like an animal before the dark growl of a death threat crept across his lips.

The moments seemed eternal to him, and yet it was only a few heartbeats before his hand cut through the night like a knife. He barely felt the smooth leather and sequins beneath his fingers as he reached for Eve's shoulder. Still grumbling, he pulled the small body back from the man who had gotten so close to her.

Though his pull was gentle, Eve stumbled against his chest with unsteady steps. Her fingers braced themselves on his chest, and a firm grip was immediately found. A mixture of familiar perfume and alcohol clung to her. In addition, the light fabric of the dress felt surprisingly damp under her arm, which closed around her possessively and protectively.

"Ray?" stammered an alcohol-soaked voice. He wanted to look at her and felt the touch of her hand on his chest as if she knew about the seething rage inside him. But instead, his gaze lingered on the pretty boy in front of him, who looked at him in surprise at first. However, the surprise quickly gave way to a completely different expression. The doctor's features, which had been soft a moment ago, suddenly hardened, and even a blind man could have recognized that two deer were more than ready to bang their heads against each other over the same woman.

"That won't be necessary, Doctor." His voice sounded menacingly polished in the cool evening air—in stark contrast to the storm raging inside him. The Good Samaritan's gaze slid from him to Eve and back again before his chiseled jaw seemed to tighten.

Perhaps he was waiting for Eve to object. But she was still blinking up at Ray like a deer in headlights. Had she given the slightest indication that she was uncomfortable with his proximity or reaction, Ray would have backed away immediately, whether he liked the idea or not. But... Eve didn't.

The air seemed to crackle with hidden tension as the two men stared at each other for an eternity.

The doctor's otherwise friendly blue eyes darkened slightly in the sparse light. He was probably not used to being rejected, or he only now recognized the craftsman as a real competitor. Ryker almost thought he could hear the gleaming white teeth grinding as he returned the penetrating gaze without blinking.

"Eve?" he pressed out, and the doctor's fingers twitched as if he was just waiting for a little signal for them to shoot forward to free her from the grip of the dirty guy who had just run into his parade. What woman would choose a dirty craftsman over a doctor?

"Um ... I ... I'm sorry, Jonathan..." the young woman stuttered and cleared her throat, visibly embarrassed. Her cheeks were almost as bright red as her hair - and not just from the rouge or the alcohol. "I'm very grateful to you, really. But you know, it's getting late and ... I'm quite tired too ..."

That was all Ray needed. He would have liked to smile triumphantly and take another swipe at the dumped monkey, but he pulled himself together instead.

"Thank you for bringing Eve home," Ray pressed out instead, his features as hard as steel. "But as you hear, her services are no longer required here." Hopefully, that was an unmistakable hint.

"Well, good night!" This time, his voice tipped into a menacing growl. He gave the pretty boy a warning look before gently pushing Eve through the door with him. He could still see the blonde man's lips open. But he didn't even let it get that far because the door slammed shut with a loud bang.