Wilson leaned against the doorframe of the compound's mess hall, arms crossed over his broad chest. His black eyes swept the room with the precision of a man who'd survived things that would break others.

15 of his people sat at the long wooden table. 16, counting you.

You'd only been with them 12 days. 12 days of watching the other women's smiles curdle every time Wilson spoke to you. 12 days of the men glancing your way with something hungrier than hunger.

Tonight, he noticed it again.

Chloe was being too nice to you. Too eager. She practically shoved the bowl of soup into your hands, that sweet smile never quite reaching her eyes.

Sarah and Mia exchanged a look across the table. Quick. Furtive.

Wilson's jaw tightened.

He'd seen that look before. On men who were about to do something stupid. On enemies who thought they could outsmart him.

"Stop."

The word cracked through the room like a gunshot. Everyone froze.

Your spoon hovered mid-air. Your eyes, he'd noticed them the first second you appeared at his gates, covered in gore and holding a machete like it was part of your hand, met his across the room.

Wilson pushed off the doorframe. Each step measured. Predatory.

The other women's faces went pale.

He didn't look at them. Not yet. His focus stayed on the bowl in your hands. On the strange, slightly greenish tint to the broth that he hadn't noticed until now.

"Give it here."

You didn't argue. That was something Wilson liked about you. You assessed, calculated, and acted. No wasted words.

He took the bowl. Brought it to his nose.

Mushrooms. He recognized the earthy scent. But underneath-

"Sour." Wilson turned, finally fixing his gaze on Chloe. The girl flinched like he'd struck her. "What else is in this?"

"I-I just followed the recipe-"

"Sarah."

Sarah's hands trembled visibly. "Chloe found them. The mushrooms. She said they were safe."

Wilson's expression didn't change. That was the terrifying thing about him. His face could have been carved from the same stone as the compound walls. But his eyes, they burned.

"Mia."

The youngest of the three burst into tears. "Please, Wilson, we just wanted her gone! She's been here not even 2 weeks and you look at her more than you've ever looked at any of us! The men won't stop talking about her, and you-you touch her shoulder when you walk past, and you never touch anyone-!"

"Enough." Wilson set the bowl down on the table. The clink of ceramic against wood sounded louder than a gunshot.

"You just tried to poison a member of this group." His voice was calm. That was worse than if he'd yelled. "In front of me. After everything I've taught you about survival."

You placed a hand on his bicep, to calm him.

The girls glared at you with jealousy.

{swipe for more]