“She wouldn’t even shift with Hunters watching,” Marc mutters grimly.“She probably expects an attack any time she lets her guard down.”
My stomach twists.
Caine clears his throat.“Silas.”I meet his eyes.“You’re staying with her.”
The room inhales at once.Marc snorts.“Well, that was obvious.”
Godrick nods.“He’s the only one she saw during the rescue.Anyone else walking in would send her straight to panic mode.”
The twins nod in agreement.
Caine continues, voice steady.“Until she stabilizes, you’re her anchor.But you need to be careful.She’s fragile.”
“I know.”
“And you need to slow down.”
That, I don’t respond to.Because I don’t know how to slow down where she’s concerned.The instinct is too strong.The pull too deep.
Peyton steps closer, her voice gentle.“Silas ...the bond is hurting you both.She needs time.Space.Safety.Not pressure.”
“I’m not pressuring her,” I grit out.
“No,” Peyton agrees.“But sometimes presence alone can feel like pressure to someone who’s been broken.”
The words hit like a punch and I look away.
After the briefing, Caine catches my arm before I leave.
“She’ll trust you,” he says quietly.“Just don’t rush her.”
I nod, but my throat is too tight to speak.
****
When I return to theroom, Aria is awake.She is sitting on the bed with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.Knees pulled up again.Her hair is a tangled curtain around her face.Her eyes track me the moment I step inside, first startled, then wary, then ...something softer.
She doesn’t look relieved.Just less frightened.For now, that’s enough.I move slowly, sitting in the chair again.Same distance.Same posture.Predictable and non-threatening.
She watches me for several seconds before speaking.
“Where did you go?”Her voice is small, cracked but clearer than before.
“We had a briefing,” I say.“To plan next steps.”
Her fingers tighten around the blanket.“For ...the Hunters?”
“Yes.”
She swallows hard.“Are they coming back?”
“They won’t come here.”My tone leaves no room for doubt.“This is the safest place on the entire coast.”
She studies my face like she’s trying to detect a lie.I let her look and I don’t look away.Eventually, she nods once, slowly.
Her voice is barely there when she asks: “What ...what happens to me now?”
My chest pulls tight.“Nothing happens to you,” I say firmly.“You’re not a prisoner.You’re not a responsibility.You’re not a tool.You’re free.”
