“You are,” I said without hesitation. “You’re the strongest person I know.”
He didn’t respond, just wrapped his arms around himself like he could keep from falling apart if he just held tight enough.
I shifted on the bed, grimacing with the effort, and managed to swing my legs over the edge.
“Come here,” I said.
He hesitated.
“Please,” I added.
He stepped into my arms slowly, almost like he was afraid touching me would hurt.
But the second I pulled him close, he collapsed into me, arms around my waist, head tucked under my chin.
I buried my face in his hair and held him as tightly as I could.
“If you need to take time,” I murmured, “I won’t stop you. I won’t make this harder. But I need you to know… every second we’re apart is going to hurt worse than anything those shifters did.”
He clung to me.
“I don’t want to walk away,” he said hoarsely. “But I don’t know how to protect you either.”
“That’s not your job,” I whispered. “You’re not supposed to protect me, James. We protect each other.”
He nodded slowly, the movement brushing against my collarbone. We stayed like that for a long time.
The sun crept higher outside, casting warm golden light across the rumpled blankets, the still-steaming mug of untouched tea on the bedside table, the faint bloodstains still smudged on my sleeve.
Eventually, his breathing evened out. He didn’t pull away. Neither did I.
Chapter 18
Rafael/ James
RAFAEL
I reached for James the moment I woke up, expecting warm skin and the quiet rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand.
But the bed was cold.
The blankets beside me were still rumpled, like he’d just slipped out. I blinked blearily, rubbing at the ache in my shoulder as I sat up.
The pain was familiar now. A dull throb from healing injuries that still hadn’t faded. I’d gotten used to the way my ribs protested every breath.
What I hadn’t gotten used to was waking up without James.
“James?” I called out, voice gravel-thick from sleep.
No answer. The apartment was too quiet. No clatter from the kitchen, no kettle whistling, no soft humming from the bathroom. Just silence.
That’s when the feeling hit me. Low and coiling in my gut. A wrongness I couldn’t shake.
I swung my legs off the bed and winced as my feet hit the cool floor. The air was crisp, too early even for the breakfast crowd at Bear & Bun. I checked the bathroom. Empty.
No sign of him in the hallway, either. It wasn’t until I turned back toward the bed that I saw the piece of paper on the nightstand. Folded. Centered. Like he wanted me to see it right away.
A note. My stomach dropped before I even touched it.
