Her lip trembles. “I can’t believe he wanted to do that to me.”
“He’s never coming near you again,” I tell her evenly. “That’s done.”
Her gaze drops to my hands. “Your knuckles look wrecked.”
“Not as wrecked as his face.”
That pulls a grin from her, bright and genuine, and something inside me loosens.
“I’m usually all about peace and love,” she says faintly. “But in this case…I hope you broke something.”
“I’m fairly confident I did.”
I lean down and kiss her softly. Her lips are dry, cracked, not like the soft warmth I’m used to, but that doesn’t matter because the connection is still there. That spark still moves through me like it always has.
I keep it slow, careful—a promise, not a demand.
When I pull back, her eyes remain closed for a second, savoring it.
“I’m glad you’re awake,” I admit quietly. “I don’t know what I would have done if—”
“I’m here,” she interrupts softly. “I’m not going anywhere.” She studies me, then adds, “While I was out… I wasn’t completely gone. I could hear you. All of you. I couldn’t make sense of it, but I knew you were there, and I felt safe.”
Emotion tightens my throat.
“Dad says you brought me back?”
“And possibly broke a couple of ribs in the process,” I admit. “I didn’t exactly have formal training. The doctors told me they gave you a nerve block.”
She gives me a tired smile. “I’ll take sore ribs over the alternative.” Her fingers curl around mine. “You saved my life.”
“I’ll always save your life,” I tell her quietly. “Because my life is yours.”
“Has anyone ever told you you’re dangerously smooth?”
“Only with you,” I reply. “Everyone else thinks I’m a hardass.”
She studies me. “How’s Kiera?”
Even now, fresh out of a coma, she’s thinking about someone else.
“There she is,” I murmur, brushing her hair back again. “Kiera’s okay. Worried, but okay. I messaged her when I got out of custody.”
Her eyes widen. “Out of custody?”
I exhale. “When I went after Jett, the police got involved. I spent a few hours in a cell. Luke handled it. Jett was charged, but made bail.”
Her grip tightens.
“He came at us again at the hotel,” I continue evenly. “With a knife this time. Cooper got cut stepping in front of me. He’s fine, but Jett’s done. He’s not coming back from this one.”
She pales slightly. “A knife?”
“It’s handled,” I say firmly. “He’s not a threat anymore.”
She exhales slowly, relief settling into her expression. “What about the tour?”
I hesitate.
