Nadia's POV
The taste of brine clings to my lips as we trudge away from the coastline. Dawn broke hours ago, yet the sea's roar follows us like an accusation. The rocky path we follow cuts through the cliffs like an old wound that refuses to heal.
I refuse to glance backward.
Bogart maintains his position several steps ahead, his stride never faltering. Sunlight catches the dark strands of his hair, still carrying moisture from the morning's spray. He's stopped questioning our destination. He simply obeys my directions without protest.
His silence should please me. No complaints, no interrogation, no expressions of gratitude. Yet his quiet compliance irritates me in ways I cannot explain.
"When we reach the next settlement," I announce, "you continue alone."
He turns his head slightly. "I expected nothing else."
"Excellent. We're in agreement."
A single nod, then he resumes walking.
This is precisely what I desire. A swift, uncomplicated parting.
