Her words dissolve into a choked sob that sounds torn from somewhere deep and wounded. I step closer, hands hovering in the space between us.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, "I didn't want you to see that, but he—" I stop, running a hand through my hair, frustration and guilt clashing inside me. "I couldn't watch him touch you like that."

Her eyes glisten in the dim light, full of emotions I can't unravel, like looking into a kaleidoscope of pain.

"Why do you always have to fix everything?" she asks, tone raw and accusing, but there's no anger—just bone-deep exhaustion.

I step closer, careful as if approaching the edge of a cliff.

"Because even though you don't need anyone saving you, where I can, I'll always try," I say simply, words rough but honest as an open wound.

Her breath hitches and I watch her defenses crumble like a castle made of sand. Her face collapses as she lets out a shaky breath that sounds like surrender, arms still hugging herself.

"Hey," I whisper, reaching for her again. This time, she doesn't pull away when my hands cradle her face, touch gentle despite split knuckles. My thumbs brush away her tears as I lean down to catch her eyes, trying to keep her in this moment with me.

"Don't cry. Please. I'm here."

She shatters completely and falls into me, clutching my shirt in her fists. I wrap my arms around her frame, holding her tightly against me, feeling her heartbeat race against my chest as I rest my chin against her hair. She shakes in my hold and I try to be the shelter she needs.

"I found Jake," I murmur, voice low and steady as I can make it, trying to give her something solid to hold onto. "Ollie's staying back to make sure he gets home."

She nods against my chest, breaths still uneven as waves, but relaxes slightly in my arms, tension easing fraction by fraction. My hand strokes her back in slow circles, trying to ground her, to remind her she's safe now, even as my own heart thunders with everything.

"I'm taking you home," I tell her softly, lips brushing her temple.

And in this moment, with her trembling in my arms and my blood still singing with violence, I know I'd burn down the whole fucking world to keep that promise—to keep her safe, even if it means protecting her from myself.

56. The Call

CHAPTER 56

THE CALL

NORA

The soft strumming of an acoustic guitar drifts through the car like whispered confessions. The Goo Goo Dolls' "Before It's Too Late" fills the space between us, its melody rising with an urgency that mirrors the storm inside my chest. Each note feels like a plea to hold onto something precious slipping away, and I can't help but appreciate the universe's cruel poetry in this moment.