I tuck her hand carefully against her chest and trail my fingers through her hair, brushing the stray curls from her forehead.
“You were screaming at trees for me hours ago,” I whisper into her hair. “Calling me a coward. Begging me to show myself.” I laugh quietly, the sound dark and soft. “Well. Here I am.”
Her eyes flutter again, sinking shut, then dragging open on pure instinct.
Her lips shape a broken half-word?—
“…don’t… go…”
It hits me like a fist to the ribs. “I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur. “Not tonight. Not again.”
She exhales shakily, sinking deeper into the mattress, into the drug, into me. Her breathing is slow now—too slow. The chemicals are dragging her under harder, deeper.
Noah tried to make her pliant.
Docile.
Quiet.
And it fills my chest with something violent enough to break bone.
I lean in close, forehead brushing hers, voice dropping to a whisper that only someone inches away could hear.
“I’m going to kill him for this.” Her eyelids flutter.
“…Noah…” she breathes, barely.
“Don’t say his name,” I murmur. “Not while you’re like this. Not while you’re in my hands.”
She makes a soft, confused noise, turning her face toward me, seeking something she’s too drugged to name.
I stroke her cheek with my thumb.
She stirs.
Barely.
Just a soft shift of her hips against the sheets, her breath catching like her body is remembering something her mind can’t reach through the fog.
My eyes narrow, pulse tightening under my skin.
She shouldn’t be waking yet.
Noah drugged her hard enough to fell a grown man.
But she’s fighting it.
Of course she is.
Scarlett never stayed down when someone tried to break her.
Her fingers twitch, brushing my thigh again—not deliberate, not controlled, but warm enough to make every muscle in me go electric.
Then her head turns toward me, slow, heavy, dragging through the haze.
“Kai…”
Not a question.
