She laughs, bitter and broken."You're not dealing with anything.This isn't your problem."
"It is now."
"Tank..."
"Tell me."I keep my voice gentle but insistent."Please."
She's quiet for a long moment.Then, slowly, the words start coming.
"He doesn't shout.Never in public.Never where anyone can see.He just...watches.Smiles.Waits."Her hands clench into fists."He's patient.Calculated.He'll follow me for weeks, let me see him just enough to know he's there, and then..."She stops, breath hitching."And then when I'm scared enough, when I'm looking over my shoulder constantly, that's when he makes his move."
My jaw clenches so hard I'm surprised my teeth don't crack.My hands curl into fists under the table.Every instinct I have is screaming to find this Declan fuck and end him.
But I can't.Not yet.Right now, Enya needs me calm.Needs me steady.
"How long?"I ask.
"How long what?"
"How long were you with him?"
"Two years.I left three years ago.Took Warren and ran in the middle of the night."Her voice is flat now, detached, like she's telling someone else's story."I haven't seen him since.Until now."
"And Warren's his..."
"His son.Yeah."She looks up at me finally, eyes red-rimmed."That's why I can't...I can't let you get involved.If Declan thinks you're...anything to me, if he sees you as a threat, he'll..."Her voice breaks."He'll hurt you.Or worse, he'll use you to get to me."
"Let him fucking try."
"You don't understand?—"
"No, you don't understand."I lean forward, making sure she hears every word."I'm not someone he can intimidate.I'm not someone who scares easily.And I'm sure as fuck not going to stand by while he terrorizes you."
"Tank..."
"Declan's not touching you again."My voice is low, steady, but there's steel underneath."He's not touching your son.He's not coming near this place without me knowing.And he's sure as fuck not going to keep watching you from the shadows like some fucking coward."
She stares at me, eyes wide, like she doesn't know whether to believe me or not.
"I'm not going anywhere, Enya," I say quietly."Whether you want me here or not."
For a long moment, she doesn't move.Doesn't speak.She just sits there shaking, walls crumbling, exhaustion written all over her face.
Then, slowly, she reaches across the table.Her hand finds mine.Cold, trembling, small against my palm.
I close my fingers around hers.Gentle but firm.Holding on.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
"I know."
"I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to know.That's why I'm here."
A tear slips down her cheek, then another.She wipes them away angrily, like she's furious at herself for breaking.
"Come here," I say softly.
