Page 53 of Peripheral Vision

I scoff, “God, no. I just, I wonder if we could have used him to get more answers out of him, that’s all.”

“He was on death's doorstep either way, Dylan. Even if we waited, there is every chance he would’ve bled out before we got anything from him. I’m happy we got to make it up close and personal. Besides, I imagine quite a bit of information will be yielded from the raid—from his office or otherwise.” Fletcher holds his hand out to me, but I refuse to take it.

I cross my arms instead, the weight of his words and everything else I still don’t know pressing down on me. A raid? I didn’t understand. “Yeah, maybe.”

Nathan shifts beside me, his jaw tightening. “For what it’s worth, it doesn’t make the effort meaningless. Think about how many missing women and children were in there with you that get to go home. Every operation dismantled, every victim rescued… it matters, Dylan.”

I look at him, searching his face for some sort of reassurance but I don’t find any. I guess it’s easy to say when you aren’t a victim yourself. But considering I’m now another statistic, that sentiment doesn’t reach my heart. Not when so much was taken from me while I was inside. “How long have I been gone?”

Fletcher answers immediately. “A week.”

A week. Seven days. It felt like months, like an eternity. My stomach churns and I grip the blanket that’s been draped over my lap tighter. “That’s all it took,” I murmur, mostly to myself. “To turn me inside out.”

“Time bends in situations like this. It’s part of the trauma. But you’re here now, Dylan. You’re safe, and we’re going to help you get through this.” Nathan’s expression is soft, and I want to believe him,that I’m safe. But the word feels foreign, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. I glance at Fletcher, his stern exterior cracking just enough for me to see something I don’t expect—something like regret. And then suddenly Connor’s words come rushing back to me about why I was here in the first place.

“Except you’re forgetting to mention the part that you were the reason I was here to begin with…” I can’t even look at Fletcher, to show him the hurt in my eyes. I’m not an unreasonable person, and deep down I know that he didn’t mean for this to happen to me, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “How am I supposed to feel safe when the two men I let into my life somehow led me here?”

“Little viper…” Fletcher stands up from the hood of the car.

“Don’t. Please… don’t.” My voice cracks. The adrenaline from the night is wearing off and I can feel the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. My chest tightens and I swallow back the tears threatening to break free. It’s as if all the emotions I’ve been suppressing—fear, betrayal, helplessness—are crashing together at once, too much for me to handle.

Fletcher’s steps falter, his posture rigid, but his face is shadowed in anguish. Yet even with that flicker, his presence feels like it always has, a storm waiting to break. He’s always been strong… intimidating. I’ve always looked at him through the lens of my father’s friend, someone I was supposed to trust, and that only strengthened when I let him into my body, my heart. But now? I don’t know how to separate him from the wreckage he inadvertently helped create. His shadow looms over me but I find no comfort in it. “Dylan, please,” Fletcher says, his voice full of a vulnerability I would’ve never expected from him. “I never wanted this. I never wanted any of it for you and if I could go back and change the past, if I could’ve told you what I was involved in sooner, why… if I would’ve gone into that fucking building with you, I would change all of it instantly. I’ll do anything now to erase the feeling of them from your body, from your mind. I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t change the past, Dylan. But I swear to you I’ll help fix it in whatever way you’ll let me.”

I want to scream at him, tell him that it’s not that simple, that broken things can’t always be fixed. But the most I can manage is a shaky resolve. “Stop, please…” I beg. “I’m not asking for apologies. I just… I don’t know how to look at any of this anymore.”

Nathan takes a step closer, resting his hand on my shoulder, hesitant at first so as not to spook me. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, okay? We’ll figure this out together. I think it’s time you two have more of a conversation, but maybe after some rest and a check-in with the doc.”

“A doctor’s appointment?” I don’t know how I feel about someone else laying their hands on me so soon, perusing my body as they check my wounds, as they try to get me to speak my truth… “I don’t know?—”

“Dylan, it’s me, okay? I’m the doctor and you’ll get my story, too.” Nathan offers me a small smile.

I swallow the lump that has caught in my throat. “Oh… okay.” I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved at that or if I had more questions. Maybe both.

Chapter

Thirty-Six

FLETCHER

We drove in silence until we reached a hotel a few towns away. We all needed some R&R, but we were also warned not to go too far because our bosses were going to have questions for us, as well as Dylan. If I could prevent them from having her rehash everything she not only saw in there, as well as went through, I would. To open up barely healed over scabs… dissecting every memory, every moment, as if reducing it to data points when she should be able to make her own progress, work through her own trauma, it infuriated me. And the selfish part of me only wanted her to go through it with me, to let me kiss away every bad memory and wash them from her skin with our sweat. She wasn’t going to let me touch her so soon, she seemed resigned to never letting me do it again, but I broke through her walls once and I’ll do it again—even if it means I have to give up control and let her take the reins.

We check in to the hotel under assumed names, a precaution that has become second nature in situations like this. The clerk barely glances up as I hand over the cash and mumble something about needing two rooms. Dylan may not want me to touch her, may not want to be around me in general, but this was something I wouldn’tbudge on. I need to be able watch her, to breathe in her presence and see that she is really truly here in front of me, alive. We need to talk, but we need to sleep more. Emotions are too raw to risk anyone saying or doing something they can’t take back and the last thing I want to do is push her away even further. Once the door clicks shut behind us, I finally let out the breath I’d been holding. Dylan drops onto the edge of the bed, her shoulders stiff and her hands twisting in her lap. She hasn’t said a word since we left, and the silence is unnerving me.

I lean against the door, debating whether to say something or give her the space she so clearly needs. My instincts scream at me to close the distance, to kneel in front of her and beg her to let me in, but I know better. Instead, I cross the room and sit on the chair by the window, keeping a careful distance. I eventually break the silence. “You should clean up, get some rest.”

Her fingers still, and for a moment I think she might speak. But then she shakes her head, a sharp movement that makes my chest tighten. “I can’t… I can’t bear to look at myself, and I’m scared of what I’ll find in my sleep.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, digging deeper than the knife wound in my side. I want to tell her she is wrong, that she is still whole, still her. But empty reassurances wouldn’t help either of us. “You don’t have to face it alone. You don’t have to look, or sleep, or do anything until you’re ready. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. If it’s space you need, I’ll give it to you, just don’t make it permanent.” Because I’m not sure I’d be able to do that.

“I told you I don’t know how to… do this. I don’t even know whatthisis anymore, if it was ever anything to begin with.” Her voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

I have to be careful not to let any of my frustration or desperation show. “It doesn’t have to be anything right now. No expectations, no rules. Just you and me figuring it out, one moment at a time.”

She lets out a humorless laugh and the sound cuts through me. “You make it sound so easy. Like I can just… turn it off. Like I can forget.”

This isn’t going well. I’m already messing this up. This is why I wanted to rest first and then talk. “I’m not asking you to forget, I would never ask that of you. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re in this alone. That you don’t have to be alone.”

She looks away, her jaw clenching as tears threaten to spill. “I feel… shattered. Like if I even try to pick up the pieces on my own, I’ll just end up cutting myself.”

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