As soon as they escape, I freeze, shocked at myself. We've never said those words. It's too soon, too fast. We're still figuring out what we are to each other. But in this moment, with my body still trembling from adrenaline crash and relief, it's the only truth that matters.
Axel doesn't hesitate, doesn't pull back in surprise. His eyes lock on mine, clear and certain.
"I love you too," he says, the words simple and unadorned. "So damn much."
He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like he's just stating a fact we both already knew. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Axel loves me.
I stare at him, stunned by the simplicity of it, by the certainty in his voice. No one has ever loved me like this, openly, honestly, without conditions or expectations. Without trying to change me or control me or make me smaller.
"You don't have to say it back just because—" I start, but he cuts me off with a gentle finger against my lips.
"I'm not," he says, his eyes never leaving mine. "I've known since Denver. Maybe before. I just didn't want to scare you off."
A laugh bubbles up, watery but real. "You didn't scare me then. You don't scare me now."
"Good." He smiles, that crooked, gentle smile that reaches all the way to his eyes. "Because I plan to keep saying it. A lot."
Chapter 30
Axel
Iguide Sadie through the hotel lobby with my arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady. The security team flanks us discreetly, creating a protective bubble that allows us to move through the space without anyone approaching. Poppy dozes against Sadie's chest, completely unaware of the monumental shift that's just occurred in her young life.
The elevator ride is silent. Sadie stares straight ahead, her body rigid under my arm. She's holding it together through sheer willpower, the same strength that got her through the confrontation with Elliot. But I can feel the fine tremors starting, the way her breathing hitches slightly every few seconds.
When we reach our suite, I unlock the door and usher her inside, nodding to the security team who will remain stationed in the hallway all night. The moment the door clicks shut behind us, leaving us truly alone for the first time since the parking lot, Sadie's composure crumbles.
It starts with her hands. They begin to shake so violently she can barely hold Poppy. I move instantly, taking the baby from her arms just as her knees give out.
"I've got her," I say softly, cradling Poppy against my shoulder. "I've got you both."
Sadie drops onto the mattress, her body shaking so hard it pisses me off that I can’t fix this for her. Her lips tremble, tears tracking down her cheeks, and all I can think about is wrapping her up, anchoring her, making sure no one ever touches her again.
I lay Poppy gently in the travel crib we set up earlier, tucking her blanket around her. She stirs slightly but doesn't wake, exhausted from the long, emotional day.
When I turn back, Sadie is hunched forward, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to physically hold herself together. Her face is pale, tears still falling unchecked.
I force myself to stay back, every instinct screaming to haul her onto my lap. Instead, I drop to my knees, eye level with her, close enough to smell her shampoo, close enough I could take her face in my hands and make her look at me, make her remember who the hell she belongs to now. Her gaze is vacant, lost. I patiently wait until she comes back to me.
"Let me take your coat," I say, keeping my voice low and steady.
She nods again, unable to speak as I help her out of her jacket. Her skin is cold to the touch, clammy with the aftermath of fear and confrontation.
"I'm going to get you some water," I tell her, squeezing her hands gently before standing.
I fill a glass from the bathroom sink, giving her a moment of privacy while keeping her in my line of sight. When I return, she's still sitting exactly where I left her, but her breathing has slowed slightly. Progress.
"Small sips," I instruct, pressing the glass into her hands and steadying it when her fingers tremble too much to hold it properly.
She obeys, drinking mechanically. A tear slips down her jaw, and I wipe it away, my thumb dragging slowly over her skin. Her cheek is cold.
"You're safe," I remind her, kneeling in front of her again. "Poppy's safe. It's over."
Her eyes finally focus on mine, recognition dawning. "We did it," she whispers, her voice cracking. "He's gone."
"He's gone," I confirm, taking the glass and setting it aside. "And he's never coming back."
A fresh wave of tears spills over, but these are different. These are from relief, not terror. I gather her hands in mine, rubbing warmth back into her cold fingers.
