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My hand finds the small of her back. Just a touch. Just enough to sayI'm here too.

She leans into it slightly. A micromovement most people would miss.

But I'm not most people.

Not with her.

The room feels heavy with too many emotions—Rosa's relief mixing with Lucia's trauma, Eli's clinical concern, Sloane's guilt. I need to get her out of here before she drowns in it.

"Come on," I murmur against her ear. "You need rest."

She starts to protest, but I can see the exhaustion in every line of her body. The way she's swaying slightly, running on nothing but willpower and adrenaline.

"Lucia's safe," I add. "Let Eli and Rosa handle this part."

She hesitates, then nods. We slip out quietly, leaving mother and daughter to their reunion.

The drive back to my cabin is silent. Sloane stares out the window, lost in whatever darkness is eating at her. I don't push. Some battles need to be fought alone first.

But when we arrive, she doesn't wait for me to kill the engine. Just bolts inside like she's being chased.

Something happened while we were gone.

I follow more slowly, giving her space. But when I reach the bedroom door, what I see stops me cold.

She's curled in my leather armchair—the one I use when sleep won't come and the ghosts are too loud. Her knees are drawn up, arms wrapped around them like armor.

I move behind the chair, rest my hands on the worn leather. "The view helps sometimes," I say quietly. "When things get too loud in here." I tap my temple.

She doesn't look at me, but her shoulders relax slightly. "Is that why you picked this spot? The trees?"

"Partly. They don't change. Don't judge. Don't ask questions they don't want answers to."

A soft exhale that might be a laugh. "Must be nice."

I study her reflection in the window—the tight line of her jaw, the way she's holding herself like she might shatter if she moves wrong.

"What happened while we were gone?"

She's quiet so long I think she won't answer.

Then: "There was a second file."

My breath catches. "From Granger?"

She nods. "About my father."

Ah.

I circle the chair slowly, crouch in front of her so we're eye level. In the dim light, I can see the tear tracks on her cheeks. The redness around her eyes.

She's been crying.

A lot.

Even now, fresh tears gather at the corners of her eyes. I reach up, brush one away with my thumb.

"Tell me."