“Because I don’t like bullies,” he said finally, voice rough and low.“Because I don’t want to see your blood spilled.Hell if I know, Mara.Maybe I just can’t walk away.”
She wanted to argue, to tell him that no one did things out of kindness, that the world didn’t work that way.Every man she’d ever known, especially the ones wearing cuts, had always wanted something in return.
When she opened her mouth, nothing came out.Her throat closed up, tight and aching.The fear, the exhaustion, the days of running hit her all at once, wave after wave until her chest felt too small to hold it all.
Tears slipped free before she could stop them.Viper froze.She saw the instinctive stiffness in his shoulders, the quick flash of uncertainty.It was the kind of discomfort men had when faced with something they couldn’t fix with their fists.
Then, slowly, like a man approaching a wounded animal, he stepped closer.
“Hey,” he said softly.“You’re safe now.”
The words cracked something deep inside her.Safe.She hadn’t felt that in years.Not in her father’s house, not in the Blood Vultures’ compound, not even out on the open road when she’d been free but alone.Safety had always been a luxury.It was something for other people.
She pressed her face into her hands, shoulders shaking as the dam finally broke.
Viper didn’t move for a long moment.Then he rested his hand between her shoulder blades.His touch was tentative, the warmth of his palm grounding her in a way that made her chest ache even harder.
He didn’t say anything else.Viper didn’t try to hush her or tell her it would be okay.He just stayed there, solid, steady, and quiet while she fell apart.
Viper brushed his fingers against the back of her neck once, briefly, before pulling back again, as though the contact burned.
Mara tried to stop crying, tried to pull herself together, but the harder she tried, the more the tears came.It was humiliating, standing there in front of him like that.She’d survived worse, seen worse.Mara shouldn’t be crying now.
However, something about the way he stood there, silent and unmoving, made her feel like she didn’t have to hide it.When she finally looked up, her eyes were rimmed red, lashes damp.
Viper was still there, close enough that she could smell the faint trace of motor oil and leather and something else.Cedar and smoke.His expression hadn’t changed much, but there was something behind his eyes she couldn’t name.
“Feel better?”he asked quietly.
She gave a shaky laugh.“Not really.”
“Didn’t think so.”
He crouched down then, until they were almost eye level.The movement surprised her, but because she had a feeling no man like him ever made himself smaller for anyone.
“What’s going through your head right now?”he asked.
Her lips parted, but she didn’t know what to say.Mara felt fear, relief, and confusion.
“I don’t know,” she said finally.“I just...I don’t get it.Why you’d help me.Why you’re still here.”
He studied her for a long moment.Viper didn’t stare at her in the way men usually looked at her, hungry and appraising, but searching.
“I told you,” he said.“I don’t like bullies.”
She swallowed hard.“You don’t even know me.”
He gave a faint huff that might’ve been a laugh.“Guess that makes two of us.”
Silence fell again, thick and electric.She should’ve stepped back.Should’ve put space between them.But she didn’t.Couldn’t.There was something about the way he looked at her, like he saw more than she wanted to show.
Up close, his eyes weren’t just gray.They were layered, storm-dark around the edges with a ring of steel near the center.They looked like they’d seen too much, carried too much.For reasons she couldn’t explain, Mara found herself wanting to know what had put that heaviness there.
Her breath caught when he reached up, brushing the back of his fingers lightly across her cheek to wipe away a tear.The touch was fleeting, almost accidental, but it sent a shiver through her all the same.
“Guess I’m not as good at keeping my distance as I thought,” he muttered.
Mara’s heart stumbled.“You don’t have to stay close.I’ll be fine.”
