Vincent’s POV
She was still shaking.
Her face was buried in my chest, arms limp around me, body warm and trembling from the aftershocks. Her breathing hitched and stuttered as if her ribs didn’t quite remember how to move on their own. I ran my hand slowly up her back, grounding her. Quiet. Gentle.
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for the silence to stop feeling heavy.
She wasn’t crying anymore. But she hadn’t let go of me either.
Neither had I.
I lifted her carefully, one arm beneath her knees, the other around her shoulders. She didn't protest. Just rested her head under my chin, eyelids fluttering shut as I carried her out of the playroom and into my bedroom. The real one. The one I hadn’t let anyone else step foot in until her.
I laid her on the bed, pulled the blanket up, and sat beside her.
Her fingers found mine under the sheets.
“Don’t leave,” she whispered.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
She was quiet for a beat. Then: “Not just tonight.”
That landed like a gut punch. Not because I didn’t want to stay—God, I did—but because I knew what she was really asking.
Don’t walk away when I’m too much. Don’t disappear when I need more than you’re used to giving. Don’t run when it stops being convenient.
And for once, I didn’t feel the need to protect myself from her.
I leaned down and brushed my lips against her temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She sighed softly, something in her shoulders finally loosening.
I watched her until she fell asleep. Until her breathing evened out and her body curled closer in that unconscious way people do when they feel safe.
And that was the thing—I wanted her safe.
Not just physically. Not just from the world.
Safe in here. With me.
That was new. I’d spent years learning how to control people, how to protect them in ways that served a purpose. But this... this had no strategy. No agenda. Just a girl who showed her pain openly and trusted me not to rip it open wider.
I didn’t want to own her. I wanted to keep her.
There’s a difference.
She stirred sometime after midnight, eyes blinking open, unfocused. She looked around like she didn’t recognize where she was. Like maybe she didn’t recognize who she was anymore.
Her voice cracked. “You stayed.”
I turned toward her. “You asked me to.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t usually ask twice.”
“You won’t have to.”
I let her rest against me, and for the first time in longer than I could remember, I just existed with someone. No pressure. No noise. Just two people sharing a bed that wasn’t about sex or power or control.
It was about comfort. Warmth. Being wanted for nothing more than staying.
She fell asleep again, her head on my chest.
And I stayed awake.
Not because I didn’t want to sleep—but because I didn’t want to miss this. The moment. Her. The way she finally stopped holding herself together like her life depended on it.
Tomorrow would be messy. Complicated. There were still things between us left unsaid, wounds that hadn’t scarred over yet. But tonight was simple.
She was mine.
And for once, I didn’t feel the need to prove it.