Page 73 of Unbound
He was right—a month ago, I would have bulldozed through this argument with my usual stubbornness, turning it into a battle of wills. But the icy dread in my stomach wasn't about being right anymore; it was about Jesse's safety. So I swallowed my instinctive protest and met Elijah's gaze with something new—desperation, not defiance. "I know the risks. But I can't stay here while he's out there alone. Let me navigate. Let me be close enough that when he reaches us, the first face he sees is mine. He went to me for help. After everything, he needs to see me first."
My plea hung in the air. I looked from face to face, willing them to understand. Diana hesitated, her keys dangling from her fingers.
Elijah held my gaze for a long moment, then gave a sharp nod. "Fine," he said, taking the keys from Diana's hand. "Then I'm driving. You're too worked up. You navigate."
Relief washed over me so fast it almost made me dizzy. "Thank you."
"You two go," Diana said. "Phoenix, make coffee. Andrew, stand by. We don't know what we'll need."
The short drive felt like an eternity. The streets were empty in the light drizzle coming down, bathed in the eerie orange glow of the streetlights. The world was asleep, oblivious to the war being waged in the dark. My phone lit up.
Think I'm on Willow Creek Rd. Near the old park.
Stay on Willow. We're five minutes out. Keep moving.
"He's on Willow," I told Elijah, not looking up from my phone.
Elijah didn't answer, his focus entirely on the road. He was a calm, steady presence in the eye of my personal hurricane.
A car just passed. Not you.
My heart seized. "Someone just drove past him."
"It's 5 AM, Adrian. People go to work," Elijah said, his voice even. "Just keep him talking."
It's okay. It's not them. Almost there. Can you see our headlights?
I scanned the darkness ahead, my eyes aching. Every shadow looked like a person. Every flicker of light was a possibility.
"There." Elijah's voice cut through my panic.
I looked up. And I saw him. A lone figure, half-hidden in the shadows of the sidewalk, limping badly with one leg dragging slightly. Moonlight glinted off something wet and dark soaking through his jeans at the ankle. He was wrapped in a thin jacket that was soaked through, his head on a swivel, looking terrified.
Elijah didn't slow down. He passed him, then quickly pulled over to the curb a hundred feet ahead, cutting the engine. "Go."
I threw the back door open before the car had fully stopped and jumped out. "Jesse!"
His head whipped around. In the dim light, I saw recognition flood his face, followed by a wave of relief so profound it seemed to buckle his knees. He stumbled forward as I ran to meet him.
"Window—" he gasped as I reached him, his breath coming in ragged bursts. "Had to—kick it out—"
I grabbed his arm, pulling him into me, my hand cradling the back of his head. He was shaking violently, his clothes damp and freezing cold. "I've got you," I whispered into his hair. "You're okay. I've got you."
I half-carried him to the car, noticing how he favoured his right leg. As I bundled him into the backseat, the dome light revealed the damage—his jeans torn at the calf, blood streaking down to his sock. He didn't let go, practically falling on top of me, his arms wrapping around my torso like a drowning man grabbing a life raft.
"First aid kit," I barked at Elijah, who reached under the passenger seat without hesitation. Jesse buried his face in my shoulder as I worked, his entire body shuddering with silent, ragged breaths while I tore open an alcohol wipe.
"This'll sting," I warned, but he barely flinched as I cleaned the jagged cut. His fingers dug into my sides like I might disappear if he loosened his grip. The wound wasn't deep, but it was messy—glass glittered in the blood when I angled his leg toward the light.
"Got it," I murmured, picking out the last fragment with tweezers before wrapping his calf in gauze. His skin was ice-cold under my hands. "You're safe now. I've got you."
Elijah pulled away from the curb smoothly, his eyes checking the rearview mirror once before focusing on the road home. Jesse didn't speak, just clung to me as the dark houses of his old life slid past the window and disappeared behind us, his bandaged leg resting across my lap.
He was here. He was safe. He was mine to protect. And we were taking him home.
JESSE
The key turned in the lock with a click that sounded unnaturally loud in the early morning hush. I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered, the adrenaline crash leaving me weak-kneed and hollow. Adrian's arm tightened around me—a solid, scorching band of heat along my shoulders—and for one delirious moment, I thought he might actually carry me.
