Page 120 of Scarred in Silence

---

“I would end the world for you, Astra.”

Her lips part, but I cut her off.

“I don’t need you to say it back. I just need you to understand what I’ll do to protect you.”

The weight in my chest loosens, just enough.

I lean forward, press my forehead to hers.

And for the first time in hours, I breathe.

Then I shift the car back into drive, pull onto the road again, and head for home.

I don’t know what awaits us when we get there.

But for now, she’s with me.

And Damien?

He’s not safe anymore. Never has been.

* * *

She doesn’t say anything when we walk in. Just slips her fingers through mine like it’s always been this easy.

It hasn’t.

The door clicks shut behind us. The silence in the house is thick enough to drown in.

My ribs ache from the weight of it.

I should be holding it together. I should be planning our next move and tracking Damien. Fortifying the compound. But I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I saw his face. I saw his fucking face, and all I could think was,he’s still alive.

And now the walls are too close and my head is full of things I buried a year ago under blood and concrete.

I sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress shifts beneath me. I drop my head into my hands.

I don’t know who I am without the rage. I don’t know who I am when I’m not playing God, executioner, or savior. I only know that I killed my brother, and he didn’t fucking stay dead.

I feel her before I see her.

Kneeling between my knees, soft hands resting on my thighs.

I try to look away.

I don’t deserve softness.

“Lucien,” she whispers, and her voice is everything I’ve ever wanted and everything I swore I wouldn’t need.

She peels my fingers from my face, one by one. Forces me to look at her.

And fuck, she’s not afraid. Not even now. Not of the blood on my soul or the ghosts in my eyes.

“I’m still here,” she says.

I nod. I believe her. But I don’t know why.

Her hands grip my hoodie, peeling it off my head. My skin is burning and frozen all at once. Her lips press against the scar on my chest—that old wound no one ever cared to ask about.

---