Doc cups the back of my head and pulls me into him.
For a second, the world narrows to his chest. His heartbeat. The smell of leather and gunpowder.
“I’m here,” he murmurs against my hair.
“I wasn’t scared,” I whisper.
His grip tightens.
“I was,” he admits.
That does something to me.
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
“You don’t get taken again,” he says. “Not while I’m breathing.”
“I know.”
Behind us, Ghost wrenches his arms back and secures them with a thick zip tie, plastic biting into skin.
“You’re done.”
The Saints form around us.
Solid.
Unbreakable.
Doc brushes his thumb over the rope marks on my wrists.
“You good?” he asks again.
“Yes.”
And I mean it.
Chapter 10
Doc
Thewater’soff.
Steam still clings to the mirrors as we step out of the bathroom, towels on, damp footprints trailing behind us.
She moves ahead of me into the bedroom.
I don’t.
For a second, I just stand there, watching her back.
I keep seeing the lot.
Empty space.
Her helmet on the ground.
That moment where my chest went hollow.
