Kyle’s attention snaps back to me, desperation sharpening. “Tell them—tell them you came willingly. Tell them you’re?—”
“I’m not,” I say, voice steady now, because Nash is here and the fear finally has somewhere to go besides inward. “You tied me up, Kyle.”
Kyle’s face contorts. He takes one step toward me?—
Nash moves.
He doesn’t lunge wild. He doesn’t lose control. He simply becomes a wall between Kyle and me in one heartbeat, and the look he gives Kyle is so cold it makes my skin prickle.
“Don’t,” Nash says quietly.
Kyle’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
“On the ground,” Gray repeats, sharper. “Now.”
Kyle hesitates—just long enough to think he can still negotiate his way out.
And then one of Nash’s men takes him down, fast and efficient, pinning him to the floor and snapping cuffs on his wrists. Kyle starts shouting, thrashing, spitting words that don’t make sense.
“This was supposed to—she was supposed to—she’s mine?—”
Nash doesn’t even look at him anymore. He turns to me and drops to his knees in front of the chair like the rest of the room isirrelevant. His hands shake as he reaches for the rope behind my wrists. “Laney,” he murmurs, voice breaking around my name, “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
The first slice of the rope feels like air returning to my lungs. Then my wrists are free. My arms ache as blood rushes back in, needles and fire. I gasp.
Nash immediately slides his hands to my forearms, steadying me, checking me like he’s counting bones. “Are you hurt?” he asks, eyes frantic. “Did he?—”
“No,” I whisper quickly. “No. Just… ropes. My shoulders. I’m okay.”
His jaw tightens, rage flashing. Then he swallows it down like a man who learned the hard way how to control what lives inside him. He cuts the rope at my ankles.
The second I’m free, I fold forward—half from stiffness, half from relief—and Nash catches me like he’s been waiting his whole life to do exactly this.
I cling to him.
His arms lock around me, crushing and careful at the same time, his face pressed into my hair. “You’re safe,” he whispers. “You’re safe. You’re safe.”
My body shakes like it’s finally letting go. “I knew you’d come,” I choke out, voice breaking.
Nash pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes glossy with something dangerous and soft. “Always,” he says. “Always, Laney.”
Behind us, Kyle is still yelling, the sound of a man unraveling completely. Someone drags him toward the door. His buddy is hauled up too, wrists cuffed, head down.
Gray’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Sheriff’s on his way. Everybody hold positions.”
The wordsheriffmakes reality crash back in.
The house. The ropes. The crime.
But Nash keeps me anchored. His thumb wipes at my cheek, and I realize I’m crying. “Hey,” he murmurs, forehead to mine. “Look at me.”
I do.
“You did good,” he says. “You fought. You stayed smart.”
“I was scared,” I admit, voice small.
“I know.” His voice softens. “Brave isn’t not being scared. It’s doing it anyway.”
