Dakota stared at the figure. Something inside her recoiled—not because she recognized him, but because an old, animal instinct told her the question mattered in a way that went far beyond a casual provocation.
"You've mistaken me for someone else," she said, forcing steadiness.
The stranger's smile was small and almost pitying. "No." His gaze did not waver. "I really haven't."
The shop seemed to warm around her. The floral perfume that had been pleasantly domestic when she walked in thickened into something cloying and heavy; the scent settled at the back of her throat and a dull ache began behind her eyes. She blinked it away.
"Where is Takoda?" she demanded.
He watched her without answering. Patient. Calculating. As if he were measuring her responses rather than responding to them.
Then Dakota noticed the floor feel farther away. The edges of her vision blurred and snapped back into focus. Her stomach tightened; every instinct flared Danger. She stepped backward.
