Shadow keeps my hand in his the entire drive, like if he lets go I'll disappear.
I lean against his shoulder, exhausted, traumatized, but safe.
Charlie's snoring softly in the back seat, and for the first time in hours, I let myself relax.
We arrive at the clubhouse at some point in the night.
My body is shutting down, running on fumes and adrenaline, and the last thing I’m doing is looking at the time.
Sakura is waiting outside. When she sees me, she starts crying.
"Grace, I'm so sorry—" she starts.
"No." I hug her tight. "You kept me alive. You made the right call. It's not your fault."
"I should've?—"
"You did everything right. I'm here. I'm safe. That's what matters."
Sakura hugs me back, mindful of my injuries. "Let's get you cleaned up. You need a shower and food and rest."
The clubhouse bathroom is small but clean.
Siren helps me out of my clothes—they're dirty, torn, smell like cage and fear—and into the shower.
The hot water feels like heaven. Washing away the grime, the blood—not mine—and the memory of those metal bars.
Siren washes my hair while I just stand there, too exhausted to do it myself.
"You're safe now," she says quietly. "Shadow's right outside. Won't leave the door. Been standing there the whole time you've been in here."
"He's scared I'll disappear."
"Can you blame him?"
No. I can't.
After the shower, Siren helps me into clean clothes—sweatpants and a t-shirt someone donated.
She bandages my wrists where the zip ties cut deep enough to break skin.
I look at myself in the mirror.
Bruised. Exhausted. Traumatized.
But alive.
There's a knock on the door. "Grace?" Shadow's voice, rough with worry.
"I'm okay. Almost done."
But Siren opens the door anyway, and Shadow's there immediately, his eyes scanning me like he needs to confirm I'm real.
"Better?" he asks.
"Better."
He wraps his arms around me, careful of my injuries, and just holds me for a long moment.
