We stand.We move.Not out of fear.We’re not running, we’re walking into this chaos together.And for the first time since the fire, and maybe long before it, I don’t feel like the girl waiting for the next match to strike.I feel like someone holding a bucket of water and a very sharp tongue, ready to fight like hell for the life I finally want.
He falls in beside me in the hallway, not ahead, not behind.Side by side.I feel powerful and in control of my own life.And God help anyone who thinks they’re going to set me on fire again.
Chapter Eight
Not His Victim Anymore
Darren
Some days, the world tilts and dares you to stay upright.Today, I bare my teeth and dare it back.
Olivia sits beside me in the passenger seat of my truck, shoulders squared like a soldier walking toward something she’s terrified of but refuses to avoid.She keeps one hand clenched in her lap.The other is in mine.
I didn’t ask.I just offered and she took it.
The fire station and police department share a municipal lot with Kidds Beach budget reality, and the familiarity of the place should be comforting.It isn’t.Tension hums under my skin.My protective instincts are pacing like caged animals.
I park and kill the engine before I look at her.
“You good?”I ask.
“No,” she says honestly.Then she lifts her chin.“But I’m going in anyway.”
Pride hits me like a punch.
We walk inside together.Fluorescent lights buzz.Paper smells mix with burnt coffee.The front desk officer, Constable Meyer, recognizes me instantly and nods, then clocks Olivia’s expression and sobers.
“I need to report contact from a restrained party,” she says before I can open my mouth.
Her voice is steady.She is fierce and determined and, goddamn, if that isn’t sexy as hell.
Meyer gets the detective on the arson case.Statements.Forms.Recorded notes.Olivia recounts the phone call, the words he used, his casual confession threaded through cruelty.I sit there useless and vibrating while she relives every syllable.
When she falters, I squeeze her knee under the table.
When she finishes, there’s a beat of silence.The detective nods, his voice measured and careful.They talk about the next steps—warrant applications, temporary protection orders, flagging patrols near where she’s staying.
