Wren nods, small and unsure.“I will.”
Finn reaches across her legs and squeezes my knee lightly—a silent signal to breathe.I didn’t realize how hard my grip was on the seat.
Kael pulls away from the curb and drives us back to his place.Wren watches the city lights through the window.She relaxes incrementally, piece by piece, as the distance between her and her apartment grows.
When we pull into Kael’s garage, she doesn’t move right away.
“Wren?”I ask.
She turns to me.“Thank you.”
I don’t know what to do with the word.No one says it to me like that.Soft.Honest.Vulnerable.
I swallow.“Always.”
Finn smiles.“Every time.”
Kael glances back at her.“Go inside.We’ll take shifts.”
It’s practical.Steady.Safe.
And she nods like it’s the first time she’s been offered a real night of sleep in months.
When we step inside Kael’s apartment—quiet, dim, warm from the heating—it feels like stepping into a different world.
A world where she isn’t hunted.
A world where she isn’t alone.
A world where three men watch her shoulders drop and silently vow to keep them that way.
She looks around, wraps her arms around herself, and whispers, “I don’t know how to do this.”
I answer without thinking.
“We’ll teach you.”
She meets my eyes.
And for the first time, she doesn’t look scared.
Just held.
Just seen.
Just...safe.
