"I was so stupid," I whisper, shame rearing its ugly head. "I believed everything. Didn't see what was right in front of me."
Axel goes completely still, the kind of stillness that doesn't come from peace but from rage so controlled it has nowhere to go. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping beneath his skin.
"Did he ever put his hands on you?" he asks, his voice eerily calm.
I shake my head. "No. He was smarter than that. No marks, no evidence."
"Does he have someone watching you here? Besides when he showed up himself?"
"I don't know," I admit. "I never felt watched until that photo appeared."
Axel nods once, processing. When he speaks again, his voice is low, firm, brooking no argument.
"You don't ever face him alone again," he says, leaning forward. "Not in court, not anywhere. I'm here, Sadie. I'm not leaving."
My composure cracks at his words, a dam I've been holding together with sheer will since the night I fled Oregon. A sob catches in my throat, and I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold it back. But it's too late.
The tears come fast, silent but unstoppable. I turn my face away, hating the weakness, but Axel doesn't let me hide. His hand, warm and gentle, cups my jaw, turning me back to face him. With his thumb, he wipes away the tears tracking down my cheeks.
"I've got you," he murmurs, pulling me closer until I'm against his chest. "I've got you both."
He presses his lips to my temple, a gesture so tender it makes me cry harder. His arms tighten around me, solid and safe, as I shake apart in his embrace.
"I hate this," I whisper against his shirt. "I hate needing someone. I hate not being able to handle this alone."
"I know," he says, his voice rumbling under my ear. "But you don't have to do it alone anymore."
I pull back just enough to look at him, really look at him. The man who hired a private investigator to protect my daughter.Who booked a private jet to keep us safe. Who's sitting here now, holding me together when I'm falling apart.
"I feel safe with you," I admit, the words barely audible. "I've never felt that with anyone else."
Something shifts in his eyes, relief, maybe, or hope. His hand comes up to brush hair from my face, lingering against my cheek.
"I never meant to hurt you," he says. "When I kept that photo from you?—"
"I know," I cut him off, not wanting to revisit that pain. Not now. "I was angry because I trusted you. Because you matter."
Something shifts in his expression. We're so close I can feel his breath, see the flecks of gold in his irises. The air between us changes, charged with something beyond the fear and anger of moments before.
I don't think about it. I just lean forward and press my lips to his.
The kiss is hesitant, trembling on the edge of restraint, but the second his arms lock around me, all the air in the room changes. His grip is iron, claiming, his low growl vibrating against my lips and straight through my core. I surge against him, my hands twisting in his shirt, desperate for more, for all of him, need clawing at every rational thought. I don’t just want him, I ache to be taken, to be owned.
His mouth opens over mine, deepening the kiss as his hands slide down my back, pulling me firmly against him. I gasp against his lips, the solid heat of his body a shock after days of emptiness and fear.
"Sadie," he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at me, to make sure. "Are you…"
"Don't stop," I whisper, already pulling him back to me. "Please don't stop."
His restraint snaps. He crushes my mouth beneath his, hand fisting in my hair as his other palm clamps down on my hip, holding me still like he owns my body. I arch into him, shameless, desperate for more, for the delicious friction of his body pressed to mine. I want him to take, to claim, to leave no doubt that I am his.
We're moving toward my bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine except for frantic breaths. My back hits the wall beside my door, and he presses against me, his hardness evident against my stomach. I moan low in my throat, my head falling back as his lips find my neck, my collarbone.
"I need you," I confess, trembling as his teeth graze the sensitive spot below my ear. "Axel, I need you."
He pulls back, his eyes dark with desire but still focused, still present. "You don’t get it, Sadie," he rasps, eyes blazing into mine. "You already own every damn part of me. I’m yours."
I take his hand and lead him into my bedroom. I close the door behind us, the soft click barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears. The room is dim, lit only by the small lamp on my nightstand, casting everything in soft golden shadows. The green lights on the second baby monitor I keep in my room blink steadily on my dresser, Poppy's gentle breathing a quiet reminder of everything at stake.
