“We aren’t hurt,” she says, picking her words carefully.
I know she means that while they’re not injured, they’re definitely not alright.
How could they be?
They must have been terrified to be ripped from their beds and dragged into this dark cellar of a dungeon.
I swallow hard, giving her a single nod as a fist clenches around my heart.
But when Stephanie reaches us, she doesn’t stop.
She throws her arms around us both, folding herself into the hug until we’re tangled together, a single knot of desperate relief.
Her tears are hot against my neck. “You came,” she breathes.
My chest tightens, and I hold her close as I press a kiss to her temple. “Of course I came,” I say. “I always will. I would go to the ends of the earth for you.”
Stephanie pulls back slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she smiles sadly up at me. “I just thought…” She swallows hard and shakes her head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter now.”
“You’re safe,” I promise, even though we’re still in the lion’s den. And I’m grateful when my voice is steady, because it has to be for them. “I’ve got you both. I swear, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Neither of them says anything, but they don’t have to.
I can feel it—the way their bodies press in like they’re trying to anchor themselves to me, the way Jackson’s sobs ease just enough for him to breathe, the way Stephanie’s shaking starts to slow.
And for the first time in days, I believe my own words.
They’re safe.
And I’m not letting go.
“We should get out of here,” I murmur, not wanting to be the one to break the hug. But I can feel our window closing as the sound of gunfire dwindles.
Stephanie nods as she pulls back quickly, as if only just realizing she was still holding on to me.
Then her eyes shift to Jackson. “Maybe I should take him—in case we come across anyone.”
I nod. “Just… let me have him until we get past the first hall.”
I don’t really want to say it, but if I can keep him like this, I’m hoping I can get him past the dead bodies without him seeing such violence.
My father showed me my first dead body when I was nine years old—and even that had been too young.
The image will be permanently burned onto the back of my retinas for the rest of my life.
I want to spare Jackson that experience if I can.
Stephanie hesitates, worrying her lip, then gives a single nod.
Reaching behind me, I grab my gun from its holster and pass it to her. “You remember how to use it?”
Once upon a time, I taught her how to use a gun.
Back then, she’d teased me for it, saying she didn’t anticipate having to shoot any armed robbers coming to steal flowers from the flower cart where she worked.
But now, I’m pleasantly surprised when Stephanie lifts her chin and takes the gun without hesitation.
She checks that the chamber is loaded, then holds it carefully in both hands, aiming the barrel toward the ground but ready to bring up at a moment’s notice.
