Page 49 of Enzo

“Don’t let him take me,” Robbie gasped, his voice cracking. “Please. Please don’t let him?—”

“I won’t,” I said, firm, fierce, holding him like I could shield him from everything. “I swear, Robbie. He’s not getting near you.”

But the words felt hollow.

Because I’d failed him.

I held him now, whispering promises like they could stitch him back together, but a brick had come through our window. A man had reached in—tried to grab him. Tried to take him. And I hadn’t stopped it. I hadn’t seen it coming. I hadn’t protected him.

How could I say he was safe when I didn’t even see the threat until it shattered glass and tore through his world?

I squeezed my eyes shut, guilt crashing over me in waves. I was supposed to be the one who kept him safe. I’d told him he could trust me. I’d told myself I’d be enough. But tonight proved I wasn’t. I couldn’t undo what happened. Couldn’t take away the terror. All I could do was hold him and hate myself for not being faster, stronger, smarter.

I kept saying I’d protect him. But how many times could I say that before it became a lie?

And if I couldn’t keep this promise…

What did that make me?

Sobs broke loose, his fingers gripped like claws, and my shirt bunched in his fists, damp with sweat and tears and panic. I rocked him, helpless against the storm ripping through him, only able to be the anchor.

His terror was alive, thrashing, choking. And all I could do was hold him tighter and promise things I’d die to make true.

“We’ll find him, and I’ll kill him. I mean it Robbie. I’ll tear him to pieces.”

That promise wasn’t made lightly. It came from somewhere deep and raw, from a part of me that hadn’t known fury like this until now. If I ever laid eyes on John again, he’d die. Simple as that. No second thoughts, no hesitation. That man had reached through the broken glass into our world, into Robbie’s trembling, shattered space, and tried to steal him back into hell. He’d touched him.

He’d made him bleed terror.

So yeah, I’d kill him. Because what else was left to do? What justice could possibly match what Robbie had been through? This wasn’t rage—it was something colder. Steadier. A storm building silent and relentless inside me, and John? He was the center of it.

I held Robbie as if I could fuse us back together. My arms around him, my cheek pressed to his hair, his tears soaking into me. He clung to me, smaller than he should’ve been, wrecked, wrecking me.

Hours passed like that.

“He touched me,” Robbie said every so often, broken, his breath hitched, unsteady, and he held himself rigid against me, as if he moved too much, he’d come apart.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Robbie.”

His sobs didn’t come all at once anymore—just the occasional hitch in his breath, the soft tremble in his chest. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and I didn’t ask. I just kept holding him, kept promising silently that I’d never let him fall again.

And finally, finally, the tears stopped.

He was quiet. Still. Not asleep, not calm. Just emptied out.

And he hadn’t let go of me.

“John had me,” he whispered. “He and two others…” He stopped. “One of them had a really gruff voice, tall, dark hair skinny, old, and the other one was always angry, he was short, had blond hair, and he was drenched in aftershave. But it was John who l-l-let them…”

His voice broke, and I felt something hot and wet soak through my shirt. The tears had started again, but he kept going as though the words had broken the dam and were spilling through the cracks.

“I wanted to go home. I didn’t even know where that was anymore. I didn’t know my name. I didn’t know if I was alive. And he’d laugh. He’d tell those other two that I was a good one, that my brain was good, told them not to hurt my head, that’s why I had the collar—they could hold onto it and…”

Fuck. FUCK!

“I tried to stay quiet. Obedient. Told them to keep me alive as if he was on my side.” His voice cracked again. “But he wasn’t.”

“Robbie…” I breathed, arms tightening around him.

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