"Angel."Hades' voice cuts through the panic.His hand finds mine in the darkness, warm and solid."You're safe.You're home."
"I know."But my voice shakes, betraying the lie.
He sits up beside me, pulling me against his chest.I can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong.Real.
"Same dream?"
"Always the same."I close my eyes, breathing him in.Leather and motor oil and something uniquely him."I'm back there.In the warehouse.And I can't get free."
His arms tighten around me."You're free now.You got yourself free.Remember?"
I do remember.The thumb I dislocated while escaping those ropes.The way I fought even when my body screamed to give up.But remembering doesn't stop the dreams.
"How long has it been?"I ask.
"Three weeks."
Three weeks since the warehouse.Since Ethan died.Since everything changed.
Three weeks of living in this beautiful house with Hades and five children who need us.Three weeks of trying to pretend I'm healing when really I'm just barely holding it together.
"I'm sorry I woke you."
"Don't."His lips brush my temple."Don't ever apologize for this."
But guilt gnaws at me anyway.He already carries so much.The club, the kids, keeping us all safe.He doesn't need my broken pieces on top of everything else.
"Come here," he murmurs, shifting so I'm cradled against him."Let me help."
His hands move over my back, slow and careful.Not sexual, just soothing.Grounding me in the present, in his touch, in the safety of this moment.
My breathing gradually slows.The trembling eases.
"Better?"he asks after a while.
"Getting there."
"Want to talk about it?"
I shake my head against his chest.Talking about it means reliving it, and I've relived it enough for one night.
"Okay.Then just stay with me.I've got you."
We lie there in the darkness, his heartbeat beneath my ear.Eventually, exhaustion pulls me back under.
When I wake again, morning light streams through the windows and Hades is gone.The space beside me is still warm, which means he hasn't been up long.
I force myself out of bed, every muscle protesting.The physical injuries are healing.Ruin says another few weeks and I'll be back to normal.But the rest of it?The fear that lives under my skin now?I don't know if that ever goes away.
The bathroom mirror shows brutal honesty.The bruises have faded to yellow and green, but they're still visible.The cut on my arm is healing into a scar.My split lip is better, though still tender.
I look like someone who survived something.Because I did.
Shower first.Then face the day.
The hot water helps, washing away the lingering dread from the nightmare.I take my time, letting the steam fill my lungs, grounding myself in simple sensations.
Clean.Safe.Alive.
