I don’t answer.
He gestures sharply. “Stand up.”
I don’t move.
He steps closer, crouches in front of me, and his expression changes fast.
My eyes are red. My hands are shaking, I can’t stop them. I can’t slow my breathing.
“Sofie,” he says, quieter. “What happened?”
I shake my head. Words feel unsafe.
“Call your driver,” he says, defaulting to logistics. “You shouldn’t be out here like this.”
“No,” I whisper.
He frowns. “You’re scared to go home.”
I can’t freaking breathe.
He straightens and pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’ll call a car.”
“Aleks—”
“Stop,” he cuts in. “You’re not walking. And you’re not going with someone who could see you like this, hurt you.”
He turns away, speaks low and fast into the phone, and then holds out his hand, “Come on.”
I take it because my legs won’t hold me otherwise.
The car pulls up quietly. Aleks opens the door, shields me from the cold, then slides in beside me without asking.
We don’t talk, I can’t. He gives the driver an address, but I can’t focus enough to know if it’s mine or someone else’s.
The ride is short. Too short to be my place. When we pull up, I realize where we are before the door opens. The Puck Pad. His place. Where he lives with Faulker and Marshall,Paul.
“Can’t.” That’s all I can manage.
“You’re safe here,” he says, not looking at me. “Faulker and Marshall are out.”
He gets out first, helps me out, scans the street once, and shields me with his big body before guiding me inside like it’s instinct.
He closes the door behind us, the lock clicking into place, and finally turns.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” he says. “But you’re staying until you’re steady.”
I sink onto the bench, hands twisting in my lap, chest still tight.
Aleks leans against the wall across from me, arms crossed, “Breathe. Just breathe.”
I hold my hand to my chest, “Can’t.”
“Then I’ll have to call Claudia.”
“No,” I gasp.
“Gospodi,” he grumbles.
