Not to gear up.
Not to scan the perimeter.
Not to hunt the men who’d done this.
There would be time for all of that.
Right now, the only thing that mattered was that she wasn’t alone in the wreckage.
I tilted her chin with two fingers. “Listen to me,” I said, keeping my voice steady even when my heart was breaking. “You got scared. That’s human. Freezing is giving up. And red—” I touched my forehead to hers, voice dropping. “You’re still fighting.”
Her breath caught. Her lips wobbled. Then she broke.
Really broke.
She sobbed hard, messy, no-holding-back cries that cracked something deep in my chest. Her body curled tighter, hands still gripping my shirt, face hidden in my neck.
I held her like I’d never let go.
Because I wouldn’t.
Not ever.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. With her sobbing against my chest, me trying to keep it together when all I wanted was to take the pain out of her body and break it over the heads of every bastard who’d ever made her feel unsafe.
But eventually, the sobs quieted.
Not because she was okay.
But because she was wrung out.
I could feel it in the way her weight shifted against me, her fists loosening their grip, her breathing turning shallow and hoarse.
And still, she didn’t speak.
Didn’t lift her head.
Didn’t ask for space.
So I stayed exactly where I was.
I shifted back against the headboard, adjusting her carefully in my lap. She didn’t fight it. Didn’t say a word. Just let me move her, like the weight of her body had finally caught up to her soul.
Her breathing started to even out. Still shaky. Still shallow. But real.
I kept one hand on her back, steady pressure, counting her breaths without letting it show. The other stayed loose at my side, every instinct screaming to move, to act, to hunt—but I didn’t.
She needed stillness.
After a long moment, her fingers lifted. Barely there. They brushed my jaw like she was checking that I was real.
“You came for me,” she whispered.
The words landed harder than any confession ever could.
I tipped my forehead to hers. Didn’t close my eyes. Didn’t soften the truth.
“Every time,” I said.
