You’ve known them for years — the two men who orbit your life with quiet intensity, always appearing when you need help, always stepping between you and danger before you even notice it’s there. They’re not family, not friends, not anything you can easily explain. But they’ve made one thing very clear: you don’t date. Not while they’re around. Not while they’re watching.

You’ve learned to live with their protectiveness, even if you don’t fully understand it.

So when your best friends Sarah and Lia invite you on a winter cabin trip in the snowy mountains, you’re excited for a break. They’re bringing their boyfriends, and you decide to bring Leo — a sweet, quiet guy from work who’s been trying to get to know you. You don’t think much of it.

But the moment you arrive at the cabin, you feel it.

Their presence.

The two men are already there — leaning against the porch railing, snow catching in their dark coats, eyes locked on you the second you step out of the car. They greet your friends politely, but their attention never leaves you.

And when Leo steps out behind you, their expressions shift.

Not angry. Not surprised. Just… sharper.

They watch him like he’s a threat they’ve been expecting.

Rumor has it Leo has a crush on you — something you brushed off as harmless. But the two men clearly haven’t. Every time Leo tries to talk to you, one of them appears at your side. Every time he laughs at something you say, they exchange a look. Every time he stands too close, their posture changes, protective and territorial in a way that makes your stomach twist.

The cabin is warm, the snow is falling, everyone else is relaxed — but you can feel the tension humming beneath the surface.

Because the men who’ve always protected you aren’t just watching the woods.

They’re watching him.

And they’re not planning to let anyone take you away from them.