Then, after a heartbeat, he held out his hand—rough, solid, steady.
For me to take.
I stared at it, my heart a mess of anger, shame, and something I couldn’t name.
But I reached out and took it, bracing for him to yank me upright.
Instead, he eased me up carefully, his grip firm but steady.
I wobbled the moment I was on my feet, legs threatening to fold under me. As I swayed, Rio caught me—one strong arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me in against the solid wall of his chest.
“You fucking stink,” he grumbled.
“I almost fucking died!” I snapped back, the words shooting out before I could stop them. “Asshole,” I added under my breath.
I tried to push away, needing space, but my knees buckled, and the room spun hard.
With a muttered curse, Rio swept me up—arms sliding under my knees and shoulders, lifting me as if I weighed nothing.
Because this situation wasn’t humiliating enough.
“Let me go!” I yelped, wriggling in his arms.
Every muscle ached, my ribs flared sharply with every tiny movement—but I kept squirming.
Rio huffed and, in one smooth move, set me on my feet.
I managed all of a millisecond before my knees gave out.
Rio caught me again without missing a beat.
“See?” he muttered. “Stop wriggling.”
Then, he stalked toward the bathroom, carrying me as if I were some fragile, breakable thing.
I wriggled anyway.
Because fuck if I was going to stay vulnerable without a fight.
Rio kicked open the bathroom door, carried me in, and lowered the toilet lid with a flick of his boot.
He crouched, his hands surprisingly steady as he helped ease my boxers far enough for me to sit. I fumbled to cover myself, face burning with a humiliation that had nothing to do with fever.
Rio glanced up once—just once—then turned away, stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him.
He was… giving me privacy?
I stared at the door, heart rattling in my chest.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have felt like anything.
But it did.
Because here was the man who’d threatened toend me stepping out without a word. Giving me space when I was at my weakest.
And that cracked something open inside me that I wasn’t ready for.
Kindness was a hook people used when they wanted something. A leash they clipped to your neck so they could tug it later. I’d survived Kessler’s system and his fucking army of creeps and wannabe assassins by keeping people out, by staying three steps ahead, by knowing no one ever gave anything for free.
