But now—
She’s shaking.
The adrenaline’s crashing.
The reality hitting.
And that—
That hits me harder than anything else tonight.
I cross the distance in two strides.
Hands on her shoulders.
“Tess—hey—look at me.”
Her eyes lift to mine.
Wide.
Glassier now.
“He got away,” she whispers.
Yeah.
He did.
And I hate that she knows what that means.
“It’s not your fault,” I say immediately.
Her head shakes. “He came for me—”
“And we stopped him,” I cut in, firm. “We’re still standing. You’re still here. That’s what matters.”
Her breath stutters.
Like she’s trying to hold it together.
Trying not to break.
I soften just enough—
Just for her.
“He’s not getting to you,” I say, quieter now. “Not ever.”
That does it.
Something in her cracks.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
