Atlas’s place is dim—just a few lamps on the far wall.Finn sits beside me on the couch, knee pressed to mine lightly, like he’s making sure I don’t drift too far away.Kael leans against the counter, arms crossed, gaze warm even in the shadows.Atlas stands near the window, still in protector mode even hours later.
It should feel overwhelming.
Three men.
Three sets of eyes.
Three different flavors of worry.
But it doesn’t overwhelm me.
It grounds me.
I’m wrapped in one of Atlas’s sweatshirts, sleeves swallowing my hands.My hair is still damp from the shower I took here—my second one today—and there’s a quiet fatigue in my bones that feels unfamiliar.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Just the weight of everything settling.
I tuck my knees to my chest and look between them.“Thank you,” I whisper.
Finn tilts his head.“For what?”
“For staying,” I say.“For everything.”My throat tightens.“For last night.”
Kael’s voice is soft.“You don’t have to thank us for that.”
But I do.
They saved me.
Not in a dramatic, kick-down-the-door kind of way—though they did that too—but in the quieter ways.The ways that matter more.The ways that sink deep.
Atlas turns from the window slowly and walks toward us.He doesn’t sit.He lowers himself to the floor at my feet, fingers brushing against my ankle in the gentlest, smallest touch.
“You look tired,” he says.
“I am.”My smile is small.“But I’m okay.”
Finn shifts closer, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind me.“You seemed strong today.”
“I didn’t feel strong.”
“You were,” Kael says from the counter.“Stronger than any of us were ready for.”
My throat warms.The tears that threatened earlier don’t come now.Instead, something gentler blooms behind my ribs.
Soft.
Steady.
Brave.
I look at all three of them slowly.
Finn’s soft eyes.
