An invitation.
A lifeline.
I take it.
His fingers close around mine, warm and steady, pulling me up gently.He doesn’t let go even once as he leads me to the bedroom to grab my bag.The whole time, he watches the windows, the shadows, every crack and creak of the cabin.
“Riot?”I whisper.“Are we in danger?”
He stops.
Turns.
Looks at me with something raw in his eyes.
“No,” he says.“You’renot.You’re never in danger with me.”
His thumb strokes my knuckles so briefly I could pretend I imagined it.
“I won’t let anything touch you,” he adds.“Not again.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“What about you?”I whisper.
He gives a small, broken smile.“I stopped worrying about myself a long time ago.”
He squeezes my hand once, then releases me and grabs the bag.
“Stay behind me,” he orders gently.“Don’t talk to anyone.And if I tell you to run, you run.”
My breath stutters.“Is it that serious?”
“Someone hit you with a truck twice,” he growls.“And someone else stood outside this cabin.So yeah it’s that serious.”
Fear curls tight in my stomach.
But something else grows there too fierce, warm, unexplainable.
I trust him.God help me, I trust him completely.
We step outside to loading trucks and armed brothers.The sky is turning gray, storm clouds gathering in thick rolls.Riot moves ahead of me like a shadow, silent, deadly, and keenly aware of everything.
His hand reaches back blindly and brushes my hip, guiding me behind him.Like he’s done it a thousand times.Maybe he has.I wish I could remember.
I lean into the motion, into the safety of it, into him.
By the time we’re in the truck again, my heart hasn’t slowed.
Riot starts the engine, jaw clenched.“Where are we going?”I ask.
He glances at me, eyes softening barely.“Somewhere safer,” he states.“Somewhere you were before.”
That shouldn’t calm me.But it does.
Somewhere inside the fog of my mind, a spark flickers, warm, bright, familiar.
“Will I remember it?”I ask.
