"He loves you." Fresh tears spilled. "My son loves you, and I don't know if that terrifies me or gives me hope."
I pulled her into my arms. She collapsed against my chest, sobbing.
"I'm sorry," I murmured. "I'm sorry you were taken. Sorry that Leo was scared."
She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know if it's your fault or not. Part of me wants to blame you—you brought us into this world, made us targets. But—" She wiped at her tears. "Matteo made the choice to take us. He made the choice to hurt a child."
"I should have protected you better."
"You came for us." Her voice cracked. "When I was in that room, in the dark, all I could think was, please let Cassian find us. I was terrified and angry, and I hated you for making us targets, but I also—" She pressed her forehead against my chest. "I also knew you'd come. That you wouldn't stop until you found us."
"Never," I said fiercely. "I would burn the world down to get you back."
"I know." She was quiet for a long moment. "I think that's what scares me most. Not that you're dangerous—but that I'm starting to believe that's what love looks like in your world."
I pulled her closer. "You don't have to decide anything tonight. You don't have to forgive me or understand or make sense of this. You just survived something terrible. You're allowed to feel whatever you feel."
She nodded against my chest, her tears soaking through my shirt.
We stood there in the darkness, holding each other, neither of us with answers.
"I can't think about tomorrow," she whispered. "Or next week, or what happens next. I can't think about staying or leaving or what any of this means."
"You don't have to."
"I just—" Her voice broke. "I just need to sleep. I need to lie down and know Leo is safe and that no one can get to us tonight. Can you promise me that? Just tonight?"
"Yes." I cupped her face gently. "Tonight, tomorrow, every night after. You're both safe here."
She pulled away, wiping at her face. "I need to check on Leo again. And then I need to—" She trailed off, looking lost.
"Sleep," I finished. "You need to sleep."
"Will you—" She hesitated. "Will you stay close? In case Leo wakes up scared?"
"I'm not going anywhere."
She nodded and moved toward Leo's room. I watched her go, understanding what she was really asking—not for me to stay for Leo, but for herself. Because even though she was angry and confused and traumatized, she felt safer with me near.
Tomorrow, we'd deal with the questions. With the blame and the fear and the impossible choices.
Tonight, we'd just survive.
An hour later, I stood outside her bedroom door. It was closed.
I raised my hand to knock, then stopped. She'd been through hell. She probably wanted space—
The door opened. Isla stood there in one of my shirts, hair damp from the shower.
"I heard you pacing," she said quietly. "Were you going to knock or just stand there?"
"I didn't want to disturb you."
"I can't sleep." She stepped back, an invitation. "Can you?"
I entered, closing the door. The city lights filtered through the windows.
"Every time I close my eyes," she said, sitting on the bed's edge, "I'm back in that room. Wondering if I'd ever see Leo again. If I'd ever see you."
