“Easy,” I murmur, stepping in close. I grab the handlebars and flick the kickstand out with my boot before guiding the weight of the bike down and steadying it. Only once it’s secure do I reach for her.
“Come here.”
She doesn’t argue. Just lets me wrap an arm around her waist, but the second her feet touch the ground, her knees give out completely.
I catch her before she falls and scoop her into my arms without hesitation. She tenses for half a second in a knee-jerk reaction, then melts against me, as if her body’s finally given permission to stop pretending it's okay.
She’s trembling, but she’s still burning from the inside out. That same fire I’ve seen since the first time she snapped at me across a barroom floor.
Candace chose me. When everything broke, she chose me.
Inside, I kick the door shut, lock it tight, and carry her upstairs. Every step, every breath, is a vow. Her weight presses into my arms, and I hold her tighter, afraid she might vanish if I loosen my grip. My arms burn with the need to keep holding her even after we reach the bed.
I set her gently on the bed in my room and grab a water from the mini fridge. She clutches it with shaking fingers. Her thumb taps lightly against the plastic bottle. A slow, steady beat. Almost a rhythm. I doubt she even knows she’s doing it. I don’t say a word. The sound fills the silence, echoing a heartbeat.
Her voice cracks as she speaks. “I had nine grand saved. Hidden in my room. He stole it. That’s how he paid his dues.”
My fists curl so tight my knuckles ache. Blood rushes to my head, hot and sharp. Nine grand. Her way out. Gone.
“I figured it out when I got home,” she continues. “Trashed his room. That’s where these came from.” She lifts her arm, showing me cuts and glass-splintered skin. Fury surges. But beneath it? Fucking pride. She didn’t sit still. She fought.
“I fell asleep in the hallway,” she adds, swallowing hard. “When I woke up… he was home. With two men. They were talking about selling me.”
I freeze. Ice floods my bloodstream. The room tilts slightly, as if the words shifted gravity.
“They were there to take me,” she whispers.
Every part of me goes still. Then violent. My vision edges black. Not rage. Something colder. Final. A cold clarity settles behind my eyes, storm pressure building on the brink of breaking.
She lifts her chin. “I fought back. Took them by surprise. Got out.”
I pace, mimicking a caged animal. My heart’s in my throat, pounding. My head’s a pressure cooker about to blow. The air tastes of metal.
“I hurt them more than they hurt me,” she says, a small, defiant edge to her voice.
I stop in my tracks. “You trained with Coach Tompkins, right?”
She nods, her mouth twitching in something close to pride. “Broke a guy’s nose. Knocked the other one out cold. I’m sure I left marks.”
“Good.” I step close. “I hope they remember you every time they breathe.” The way I’ll remember this moment every time I breathe.
She offers a crooked smile. “I punched my dad too. He tried to run. So I hit him and took the bike.”
The anger in me twists into something darker. Protective. Territorial. It coils in my chest and settles behind my ribs, fire licking at the edges.
“You’re safe now,” I say, softer this time. “He’s never touching you again.”
She leans against me. No words. Just trust. For the first time, she lets herself collapse. And I hold her as if I’ll never let go.
Her breath fans against my neck. A shiver I feel all the way down my spine. Her skin is damp with sweat and blood, but her body fits against mine, carved for this moment.
While she’s in the shower, I make the calls I need to. Quiet, necessary, and merciless.
First to Nash. He picks up on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Yeah?”
“Chuck stole the money Candace saved,” I say without preamble. “Then he brought two men to take her. Sell her. She fought them off.”
There’s a pause. Then a sharp inhale. “What the fuck?”
