I cross the room in three strides and gather her into my arms as gently as I can.
I'm mindful of the monitors, the IV lines, the injuries I can see and the ones I can't.
I'm mindful of the baby growing inside her.
But I need to hold her.
I need to feel her heartbeat against my chest.
Need to breathe in the scent of her hair, even masked by hospital antiseptic and dried blood.
Need to know, in my bones, that she's real.
That she's alive, that I didn't lose her.
"It's over," I say into her hair. "He's gone. I've got you, Van. I've got you."
She breaks down in my arms.
The sobs tear through her, shaking her whole body, and I hold her tighter.
I let her fall apart against me, let her tears soak through my ruined shirt, let her grip my arms hard enough to bruise.
"You came," she whispers between sobs. "I knew you'd come. I told him—I told him you'd come?—"
"Always." I press my lips to her forehead, to her temple, to her swollen eyelids. "I will always come for you, Savannah. There's nothing in this world that could stop me. Nothing."
She cries harder, and I feel tears of my own sliding down my cheeks.
The tears I couldn't shed in that cabin, couldn't let myself feel while the work still needed doing.
I cry for her, for what was done to her, for what she survived.
I cry for the baby.
I cry for myself.
For the man I was before tonight, and the man I've become.
But mostly, I cry because she's alive.
Because against all odds, against every evil thing in this broken world, my wife survived.
And that's all that matters.
"I love you," I whisper against her hair. "I love you so much, Van. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him before?—"
"You saved me." She pulls back just enough to look at me, her swollen eyes meeting mine. "You saved us. You always save us, Bloodhound."
I don't feel like a savior.
I feel like a failure.
Like a man who should have done more, should have been smarter, should have seen the trap before it snapped shut.
But she's looking at me like I'm her whole world.
Like I'm the only thing that matters.
