She starts shaking—first her hands, then her arms, then her whole body. The blanket slips. Her knees buckle. She grabs the doorframe with both hands but can’t seem to pull enough air into her lungs.
I move toward her slow, palms open.
She doesn’t see slow. She sees threat.
A small, strangled sound pushes up her throat—fear trying to escape even though she’s been trained to silence it.
“Hey,” my voice drops low. “It’s me. It’s just me.”
She stumbles forward, crashing into my chest. The force of it hits me deeper than it should. The tremors running through her aren’t small—they’re violent, frantic, unstoppable.
I wrap my arms around her, steady as stone. “It’s alright,” I croon against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
She shakes her head fiercely, pressing her face against my throat, breath hot and panicked. Her hands cling harder—begging, warning, pleading all at once.
Silas watches, grief in his eyes. “You’ll keep her safe,” he says quietly.
“I will.”
Briar makes another broken sound, burying deeper into me. My arms tighten around her.
“You’re safe.” I let the vow take shape in my chest. “Nobody gets near you. Not him. Not ever again.”
She trembles harder—but this time she isn’t trying to get away. Instead, she’s holding on.
Briar won’t stop shaking.
Even after Silas leaves, even after the echo of his boots fades down the trail, she trembles against me like her bones are trying to tear free.
I don’t speak for a long moment. Words won’t reach her yet. Presence will.
I slide one arm under her knees and the other around her back. She doesn’t fight or flinch, just curls in tighter, snuggling her face into my shoulder as I lift her.
“Alright,” I clutch her like she’s mine. “I’ve got you. Let’s get you warm.”
Inside the cabin, the fire burns low. I nudge it higher with one hand while keeping her gathered close. She’s cold with fear. Not her skin—her whole body. It vibrates through my chest.
I sit on the edge of the mattress with her in my arms. Her legs pull in close, folding over my lap. She tucks her head under my jaw again, the place she always seeks when her mind tips sideways.
“You with me?” I whisper.
She nods against my skin, but her body tells the truth—she’s in two places at once: here, wrapped in my arms… and somewhere far darker.
I shift back to lie against the headboard, bringing her with me. The blanket slips, and she clutches me harder, pressing her cheek to my chest like she needs to hear my heartbeat to stay on this side of fear.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Just stay here. Stay with me.”
Her hands slide down my sides. Not hesitant—familiar. Practiced. Her body moving in a pattern she didn’t create.
“Briar,” I say softly, but she’s already shifting.
She settles between my legs, blanket falling away as she crawls forward. Her palms rest on my thighs, trembling but deliberate. She lifts her face to look at me—wide eyes, glossy with fear and need mashed together.
She isn’t offering sex. She’s seekingquietthe only way she knows.
“Sweet girl,” I whisper, lifting my hand to her cheek, thumb brushing the warmth there, “before you do anything… I need to ask you a question.”
Every instinct I have says stop this. Every instinct says hold her anyway.
