Blake Hart

I didn’t expect him to cook.

Not for me. Not tonight.

But he had. Without hesitation, without theatrics.

And now, as I sat with my back pressed against the headboard of the guest bed he’d offered, I kept replaying it all in my head. The low clatter of plates. The way his sleeves had been rolled up, exposing forearms marked with faint scars and veins that moved when he handled the knife. The way he listened more than he spoke.

Raiden Ferrara.

I still didn’t know anything real about him. Not what he did, not who he was to the world. I even heard his last name from his man by chance while they were addressing to him. But somehow, I wasn’t sure it mattered. At least not tonight. He hadn’t asked for anything. Not information, not explanations, not promises.

He made me a meal.

Gave me clothes.

A place to rest.

That should’ve been enough to earn my wariness. A man that calm, that controlled, didn’t do anything without a reason. I should’ve been suspicious.

But instead… I found myself wondering why.

Why he helped me? Why he hadn’t walked away the moment I stumbled into that clearing like a ghost? Why he looked at me like I was still human?

After we finished eating, we’d talked a little more. Light things. He asked if I needed anything else. I told him no. He hadn’t pried or tried to push his way inside the story I wasn’t ready to tell.

I appreciated that more than I could say.

Eventually, he stood up and walked me back to the guest room. His steps were slow, steady.

“If you need anything,” he said at the door, “just knock. Or call out. I’m not far.”

I looked at him. “I’ll be okay.”

He watched me for a second longer, those eyes always studying, always measuring but then he nodded once and stepped back.

“Alright. Sleep well, Blake.”

It was the first time he’d said my name like that, casual, soft, almost protective. And then he was gone.

I closed the door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, breathing in the quiet.

The room was softly lit by a lamp near the bed. My borrowed clothes hung neatly over the chair. The bottle of painkillers and creams Dr. Teylan had given me sat on the nightstand. I moved toward them, slowly, every joint stiff and aching.

The cream was cool to the touch.

Applying it to my cheek and lips wasn’t too hard. But when it came to my ribs, my wrist and the bruises curling down my hip, I hesitated. The movement hurt. Twisting hurt.

And asking Raiden for help?

Unthinkable.

I gritted my teeth and did it myself. It took time. More than it should have. But eventually, the bandages were in place and the throbbing dulled enough for me to pull the blanket up and sink into the mattress.

My body ached but it was cleaner now. Warmer. Wrapped in something that almost resembled peace. I stared at the ceiling for a long time before letting my eyes close.

Raiden hadn’t tried to uncover everything tonight. But I knew what he was thinking.

That I might be someone working against him.

Whoever he was, whatever world he operated in, it wasn’t clean. You didn’t get surrounded by that kind of muscle, with that kind of composure if you lived a normal life. And I’d met him in a place people weren’t supposed to survive.

He had every reason to question me.

But I hoped my answers had been enough. Enough to earn a small sliver of trust. Enough for him to help, if he chose to.

Do I even want his help?

I didn’t know.

I didn’t know him.

But I couldn’t deny what I felt when he looked at me.

He hadn’t scared from my wounds. Hadn’t pitied me. He’d just… seen me. And done what needed to be done.

Kindness.

It had been so long since anyone showed me that, I didn’t even recognize it at first. And now I wanted, maybe even needed to believe that it had been real. That he was better than the ones who’d taken me. Better than the ones who wanted me gone.

But the worst part?

I didn’t even know who wanted me gone.

I wasn’t close with anyone. I had no evil ex. No falling-out. No vendetta. The only reasonable connection, if there even was one, would be through my father. His company. His partners. But even that felt far-fetched.

Sandra’s relatives were vultures but I’d never imagined them dangerous.

Still, none of it made sense.

Why me?

My body was finally starting to give in to sleep. The exhaustion was bigger than my thoughts now. But one thing stayed with me, even as my eyes closed.

The sound of Raiden’s voice.

You’re safe here.

And after days… I wanted to believe it.