I nodded against him. Then I blushed, pulling back enough to peek over his shoulder again.Did you do all this?
Heat crawled up his neck.You hate it.
What? No!I bit my lip and glanced at the flowers scattered everywhere.Those have seen better days, though.I laughed when he glared down at the daisies crumpled under his boot from crossing to me. His head jerked up at the feel of my laughter against him, his lips curving into my favorite thing in the world. Rafe Creed smiling was truly a sight to behold. My stomach fluttered, and he slipped his hand in mine, guiding me to my chair and scooting it out for me. I sat, and he scooted me back in, my eyes taking in the meal. It was simple, as all my meals with the Ravens had been. A soup and a salad. Nothing fancy but perfect when I was sitting across from the man I loved.
He settled across from me, still grinning. I was too. I couldn’t help it.
I’ve never been on a date before, I told him.
His cheeks were red too.Me either. Sorry if I fuck it up.
I studied him then. He looked amazing, better than I’d ever seen him. He was healthy, his skin slightly tanned like he’d been spending a lot of time in the LA sun, and I swore the gold specks in his dark eyes seemed brighter. He was cataloging me too, and as we did, our smiles slid further and further away. In thatmoment, we were both recognizing something vital and heart-stopping.
We were healing. It wasn’t by much. We’d likely spend our entire lives trying to find normal, but just the fact that we’d both offered smiles so freely was a testament to the Ravens. Somehow, without any of Creed really meaning to, we’d started tofitagain into the roles we’d been handed by Alexander, and the strange thing was…they weregoodroles. Healing roles. I don’t think either us knew how to feel about that, not then.
They told me you’d barely been working with the Ravens, only picking fights, I said after a long moment, neither of us really touching our food.
Rafe ran a hand over his mouth with a small nod of acknowledgment.At first. I thought they were hurting you and the others. Then Matthias showed me proof of life shortly after he took me to a S.I.N. auction.
I nodded.Yeah. They did the same for me. It was hard not to listen to what the Ravens had to say after that.
He was quiet for another long moment. Then he gestured to where two duffel bags sat next to the table.If you want to leave, everything we need is ready.His signing jerked to a stop. He released a breath. Then he continued,But, andI can’t believe I’m saying this—
We have to stay, I finished.
Our gazes met and held, understanding passing between us, but my heart was breaking with the truth. It wasn’t surrender or doubt that lived in that space between us. It was recognition. The awful, lucid knowing that love didn’t give me the right to turn away when the world was still burning. That choosing Creed right then wouldn’t be choosing us at all, not really, because Creed had never been about running. Creed was about standing in the fire so others didn’t have to, and Rafe understood that in the marrow of him, the same way I did. He always had.Staying didn’t mean we were choosing the Ravens over each other. It meant we were choosing the version of ourselves that had survived everything by refusing to look away. It meant acknowledging that there were still children locked in rooms like the ones that made us, that there were lives dangling on the edge of someone else’s greed, and that if we walked away now, we’d never outrun the ghosts of it. I wanted him. God, I wanted him. I wanted the quiet, the softness, the lie of safety we could build for a little while. But I could already see the end of that road, the shame that would grow from knowing we’d left others behind. Rafe could have happiness, real happiness, the kind that wasn’t poisoned by guilt, if he stayed and helped tear the whole thing down. And so could I. Even if it meant standing apart for a time. Even if it meant choosing the harder thing again. I hated myself for being strong enough to know the difference, and I loved him for understanding without a single word.
Just a few hours?I signed, looking down at my lap, my eyes burning.
He lifted from his chair and came to me, kneeling beside my chair and staring up at me, his gaze so imploring that I couldn’t help the tears that finally fell.Baby, it’s going to be okay. I don’t want to be separated either, but the Ravens are right. I promise the second Halden and Viktor are in a grave, you’ll never remove me from your side, but I have to stay away now, for your safety.
I know, I cried.
He shoved back my chair and tugged me forward, letting me collapse into him. He ran his hand over my hair, hugging me to him before he pushed my head back with a frown.What’s going on? You don’t ever cry like this. Don’t lie to me, Arden. Are they hurting you?
I covered my mouth and squeezed my eyes shut.I just—I sobbed, and his grip tightened on me.Rafe,I said slowly,pushing through my tears.It’s all catching up, okay? I can’t cage it in anymore. Everything I’ve suppressed, now that I’m faced with freedom for the first time, it’s coming back, and it’s cruel, and I can’t…I can’t do this. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.
Not strong enough?His eyes darkened, all his concern trading for determination.You are Creed.He said it firmly, his fingers snapping.More importantly, you’re Arden.
I sniffed, furiously trying to wipe my tears away.
My wife. My heart.He tucked my curls behind my ears.But above all else, you are my strength, beautiful. You are so impossibly strong that you’ve revived me from monster to man. I never want to hear you underestimating yourself ever again, do you understand?
I choked down a sob.I love you.
His eyes softened.I love you too. So much.
? Rafe?
YEARS BEFORE — THE BEGINNING — RECORDING FROM NYPD ASL TRANSLATOR
I don’t like talking about where it started, but I will if it means putting an end to it all.
The foster house had a bunker stockpiled with rifles and ammo. That’s the first real thing I can remember. There were twelve of us. Twelve kids folded into a three-bedroom shack on the edge of the train tracks, pretending that overcrowding was the worst thing happening there. A man and a woman ran it. They made us call them Papa and Mama. I did, at first. I was six, and I liked the idea of parents. I also didn’t mind being cold and hungry if it meant I belonged to something. I didn’t question why a child was expected to sit on a concrete floor and polish guns until his fingers burned. It passed the time, and because that foster house was really all I’d ever known or could remember, I told myself that was just how things worked for kids like me. We starved. We bled. We kept the bunker in shape.
Mama and Papa were never around during the day, but they always came home at night with people who filled the house with noise and sweat and the smell of alcohol. Strangers who laughed too loud and touched all twelve of us. Papa would point and say, “You, kid, come here,” and I would go because that’s the only way I knew how to fall asleep. I was always tired after, always sad and alone, and my head was so…noisy, but words never came out right no matter how hard I tried. Sentences were scrambled for me, and it just made more sense over time to remain quiet. Besides, being chosen by Mama and Papa’s strangers meant life would continue. Horribly, maybe, but I didn’t know better so it felt normal.
I learned quickly that being a bit overlooked was better than being noticed. Noticed kids didn’t last. They vanished in pieces. A bed empty in the morning. A name that stopped being said. Mama never explained. She stripped sheets and burned them in the barrel out back, smoke crawling into the sky while the rest of us watched. Papa, on the other hand, liked order. He liked us clean and lined up. He liked stillness, and he liked his guns.
