Page 226 of Let Me In

I snap.

Not out loud.

Inside.

Like bone under pressure. Like something feral waking up behind my ribs.

My voice drops, low and brutal. “Who,what?”

She thrashes again, weaker now. Her body’s starting to shake, tremors overtaking the fight. A broken sound slips from her throat, high and small, like something inside her is splintering. I feel it as much as hear it.

The shift. The surrender.

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” I breathe, voice fierce but growled. “Whatever it is—whatever’s happening—we face it together now.”

She sobs harder. Her knees start to buckle.

I adjust my grip again, this time dragging her fully off her feet. One arm under her knees, the other tight around her back. Her weight collapses against me like she can’t hold it anymore.

“Enough,” I growl. “You don’t carry this alone. Younevercarry this alone again.”

She trembles in my arms. Tries to speak. Chokes on it.

“You’re mine,” I breathe. “Which means you don’t run. Youcome to me.”

Her fingers curl into my shirt like she’s drowning.

And I carry her back toward the house, jaw clenched tight, fury bleeding through every step.

Because whoever thought they could hurt what’s mine—erase what’s hers—is about to learn exactly how wrong they were.

And I swear, by the time I’m done, Emmy will never doubt again.

Not her worth.

Not her place.

And notwho she belongs to.

I feel it when her breath catches. When her whole body tenses, then curls tighter into the crook of my neck like she wants to disappear inside me.

And I know. She remembers. The rules. That she ran, didn’t tell me. Almost tore herself from me in the blur of panic.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, voice threadbare, broken. Like she thinks those are the words I need.

God, it guts me.

Not the words.

Not the brokenness in them.

But the fact that she thinks I’d want them.

That she thinks this is the moment I’d care about anything but this—her in my arms, safe.

Caught. Kept.

Mine.

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