Gideon’s jaw flexed once. He turned his head, just slightly, and for the first time Eliza felt his gaze land on her.
Not hungry. Not disgusted.
Just… present.
It was unsettling. She’d spent her life being looked at like a warning sign. Gideon looked at her like she was a person standing on dirt.
“She know about this?” Gideon asked.
Jeb blinked. “Don’t matter if she knows.”
“It matters to me,” Gideon said.
The yard went quieter, like the air itself leaned in.
Jeb’s grip tightened on Eliza’s wrist. “Tell him,” he hissed. “Tell him you’ll go.”
Eliza swallowed. Her throat felt lined with sand. “Go where?”
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