Page 45 of Carver’s Crusade

“I’ll grab your stuff from the bathroom,” Min offers before ducking out of the room.

Raven takes a deep breath and gives me a nod. “I’ve got this. It won’t take me long to pack.”

I sit on the bed and watch her grab jeans, t-shirts, underwear, and other clothes from the closet and dresser drawers. She folds and packs them neatly in the bag. Min returns with a small bag that I assume holds shampoo, conditioner, and the like. She tosses it in the duffel bag just before Raven zips it closed.

Min returns to the other room, allowing me to ask the question that’s been burning through me since the guardhouse.

“Why’d you leave?”

Her hands stop moving.

For a long moment, she says nothing.

Then she exhales shakily and sits back on her heels.

“I was scared.”

“Of Tony?”

“No.” Her eyes finally meet mine. “Of you.”

CHAPTER 20: RAVEN

The light from the nightstand lamp casts a shadow on Carver’s face, but it doesn’t hide the hurt in his eyes.

“Why are you afraid of me, Raven?”

“I’m not…” I stop when he growls.

“You just said you were. Don’t lie to me. Just tell me the truth. I want to know what you’re thinking. I want to know what I did to make you think I’d ever hurt you.”

He looks at me then—really looks at me—with a mixture of concern and disappointment that twists painfully in my chest like he hates the distance between us but doesn’t know how to cross it.

I swallow hard.

“You want the truth?” My laugh comes out thin and shaky.

He nods once.

I force myself to meet his eyes, even though it feels dangerous. “Fine. I’m honestly not afraid of you; that came out wrong.”

His brow furrows slightly.

“I’m afraid of how you make me feel.”

The words crack open something inside me. Because Carver makes me want reckless things—trust, surrender, permanence. And that terrifies me far more than violence ever could.

Carver steps closer, slow enough that I don’t instinctively retreat. His gaze stays fixed on mine, steady and certain.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, Raven.”

My throat tightens.

“I mean it.” His voice drops lower, rough with conviction. “Nobody touches you again. Especially not Tony.”

The way he says Tony’s name makes a chill slide down my spine. Not fear this time—promise.

Carver drags a hand over his jaw and exhales sharply. “My protection starts there. That bastard doesn’t get near you again.”