I've seen enough violence, enough trauma in this life to know that some things change you forever.
"I don't know," I admit. "But you're strong, Grace. Stronger than you think. You'll survive this."
"I don't feel strong."
"You are." I lean forward, catching her gaze. "You survived tonight. That takes strength. And you'll keep surviving. Day by day. And I'll..." I hesitate, not sure how to finish that sentence.
"You'll what?" She's watching me closely now.
I'll watch over you.
I'll make sure no one ever hurts you like this again.
I'll protect you even if it means going against your father, against the club, against everything I've sworn loyalty to.
"I'll be here," I say instead. "If you need anything. Someone to talk to. Whatever. I'm here."
She nods slowly, something shifting in her expression. "Thank you. For keeping the secret. For staying. For..." Shegestures vaguely. "For treating me like a person and not like I'm broken."
"You're not broken," I say firmly. "What happened to you was wrong, but it doesn't define you. Remember that."
Downstairs, I hear Shiver on the phone.
Calling Phantom.
Delivering the news that the VP is dead.
"I should go," I say, standing. "Let you get some rest."
Grace stands too, and before I can move away, she steps forward and wraps her arms around me.
It's brief, barely a second, but I feel her trembling.
"Thank you," she whispers against my chest.
Then she pulls back, looking young and exhausted and so goddamn vulnerable it makes my chest ache.
I head for the door, but before I leave, I turn back. "Grace?"
"Yeah?"
"This secret—what happened tonight—it dies with me. No one will ever know I helped Shiver. No one will ever know the real reason Bronco died from my end. That's my word."
She nods, relief flooding her features. "Okay."
"And Grace?" I make sure she's looking at me. "You're gonna be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not for a while. But you will be. I promise."
I don't wait for a response.
Just step out into the hallway and close the door softly behind me.
Downstairs, Shiver's finishing up the call.
When he sees me, he ends it quickly. "Dad's on his way back," he says. "He's pissed. Wants to know what the fuck happened."
"Are you sure you don’t want to tell him a rival club did this?" I ask. "You and I heard the commotion, came running, Bronco was already dead."
"No, Shadow. I appreciate it, but no. It’s too messy that way. But what do we say about Grace? I don’t wanna air out her laundry."
