Blake Hart

The door clicked shut softly behind the doctor. I stepped out a moment later, walking slowly down the hall. My ankle ached but it was wrapped tightly now and the pain had dulled to something manageable. I limped, yes, but with purpose.

Raiden stood a few feet away, speaking in low tones with the doctor. Billy stood beside him, arms crossed, face unreadable. I caught only fragments, “rest,” “painkillers,” “two weeks” before Dr. Teylan nodded once and passed me a glance that felt like a quiet kind of approval. Then she left without another word.

A moment later, Raiden’s gaze shifted to me.

I straightened out of habit, my wrapped hand hovering near my waist. I wasn’t afraid of him but I wasn’t ready to let my guard down either.

“You alright?” he asked.

I gave a small nod. “Better.”

His eyes moved over me, assessing again. Not in a possessive way. Not even invasive. Just, precise like he was trying to measure whether I would fall apart again or not.

Before I could say more, he reached for something behind him, a folded bundle of dark fabric and held it out to me.

“Spare clothes,” he said. “They’re not exactly your size but they’re clean.”

I hesitated, fingers brushing the fabric.

“They’re not women’s clothes,” he added, almost as if to warn me.

“I figured,” I said quietly, a ghost of a smile tugging at my lip.

“I told my men to pick up something for you,” he continued. “They’ll bring it later. For now, this should do.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“It’s okay.”

Simple. Final. Like everything he said.

I nodded and took the bundle.

He pointed down the hall. “Second door to the left. Guest room. You can stay there tonight. Shower’s in the bathroom inside.”

That was it.

No questions. No pressure. Just space.

I found the room easily. Clean, modern, with white sheets and dark wood furniture. The bathroom was pristine. The warm water helped peel away the layers of panic clinging to my skin and when I changed into the oversized shirt and sweatpants he’d given me, I felt almost human again.

The fabric was too long in the sleeves and a little loose around the waist but the softness felt like safety. Like something mine.

When I stepped back into the hall, I noticed the silence. Billy was gone. Only one voice remained in the house now.

Raiden.

I followed the faint sound of movement into the open living room. He was there, seated on the far couch, dressed in something more relaxed now. His dress shirt had been exchanged for a plain black tee, the collar loose, the sleeves rolled up enough to show his forearms. His shoes were gone.

Somehow, that small change made everything shift.

He looked less like the man who ordered people around and more like someone who could sit down and listen.

Who wanted to listen.

Maybe that was the point.

Maybe it was the reason for him to dress like that. To get an insight, to learn what happened.

If so… I didn’t care.

Because I didn’t plan on hiding. I had nothing to hide in the first place. 

I walked over, slowly and sat across from him on the other couch. My fingers curled into the hem of the sweatpants.

He glanced up. His gaze swept over me once, briefly and then softened.

“How’s the ankle?”

“Still attached,” I muttered and he smiled barely, but it was there.

We sat in silence for a moment then he spoke again, voice low. “You don’t have to tell me anything tonight.”

I looked at him.

“I mean it,” he added. “You’ve been through enough. The doctor gave us the basics. That’s all we needed for now.”

My throat tightened.

He wasn’t asking for the story. He was offering space and I didn’t know how to thank him for that.

“I’m not sure what to do,” I admitted. “I don’t even know who I should be scared of. Or who’s looking for me. Or if they still are.”

“You don’t have to be scared here,” he said. “No one’s coming. And if they try…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, he didn’t have to. He’d already proven what he was capable of.

I leaned back slightly, trying to breathe through the fog that still clung to everything. My hand throbbed and my ribs ached but something in the way he watched me, quiet and steady, made it easier to sit still. Easier to feel… okay.

My gaze drifted over his face.

The sharp angles. The faint shadow of stubble. The eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He looked strong, in that intimidating, unapproachable way, but also clean-cut. Sophisticated. Controlled. He looked like someone used to being feared.

But when I met his eyes, I didn’t feel afraid.

I felt seen.

Raiden’s voice cut through the quiet.

“You hungry?”

I blinked. “What?”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “It’s been hours. You’ve barely had water. You should eat.”

I didn’t even realize how hollow my stomach felt until he said it.

“…Maybe.”

He stood slowly and turned toward the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s fix that.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I stood and followed, not because I had to but because I wanted to.