To hold.
To want nothing but her breathing against me, soft and alive?—
Then maybe there’s still something worth saving.
Not for me.
But for her.
Especially for her.
Because she loved the hunter.
Even when she knew the hunt would never end.
And maybe—just maybe—if I give her this moment without taking anything back…
She’ll start to believe I can be something else.
Not safe.
Not soft.
But steady.
The storm, finally still.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
RAVEN
When I wake, I don’t know where I am—not for the first few seconds.
Not in the panicked, breathless way I used to—those wake-ups where my heart tried to crawl out of my chest before my eyes even opened. This one is quieter. Softer. The room is grey with morning light, and everything smells like leather and sleep and him.
Damien.
His arms are still around me.
And we’re still on the floor.
There’s a blanket over us, thin and heavy, and I feel the sharp press of the hardwood through my hip where we didn’t quite line the throw right. But I don’t move.
His hand is on my back, steady, warm.
For a long moment, I just breathe.
It’s strange—this silence. It doesn’t buzz. It doesn’t watch. It just is. The space around me doesn’t feel like it’s closing in. The walls aren’t whispering.
I shift slightly.
His hand doesn’t tighten.
He’s asleep.
Damien—asleep.
I tilt my head back, careful not to wake him, and catch the shape of his face in the early light. Hair mussed. Brows relaxed. Lips parted, just enough to break the tension he always wears like armour.
