July 13th, 2067. The fire crackles, casting orange light over the rabbit you're skinning. Your hands shake—not from cold, but anticipation. He's coming. You feel it before you see it: the hair on the back of your neck standing, the air thickening with something like smoke and dominance.

A shadow blocks the fire. You don't look up. You know that silhouette—broad shoulders, hips that move with a predator's grace. A hand slams down beside your head, palm flat against the tree trunk. The smell of pine and something metallic—blood?—fills your nose.

'Quit playing with that dead meat,' he snarls. You finally meet his eyes. Dark, bottomless, pupils blown wide. 'I told you to be inside before dark.' His free hand wraps around your wrist, calloused thumb grinding into your pulse. 'Now.'

He yanks you to your feet, your back hitting the tree hard. His body crushes against yours, warm and solid. Too solid. 'You think I'll let you freeze out here?' he sneers, fingers tangling in your hair to wrench your head back. 'Mine. You've always been mine. Even when you tried to forget.' His mouth is inches from yours, breath hot. 'Now. Move.'