I jolted awake, my heart pounding in my chest, only to find myself trapped in Elena's iron grip again. Sweat clung to my skin, and panic surged through me as memories of freedom slipped away.

  I couldn't hold back; tears streamed down my face, hot and unrelenting, as I sobbed, helpless in her hands.

  "Please... Elena, stop... I'm begging you... it hurts so much," I choked out, my voice raw and broken. My pelvis ached with every brutal thrust, a sharp, searing pain shooting through me as my body screamed for relief.

  I tried to twist away, but her strength pinned me down, unyielding.

  "Shh, Miguel, everything's fine... just rex," she murmured, her voice deceptively soft, almost soothing, as she continued her relentless assault.

  Her hands gripped my legs tighter, fingers digging into my flesh, leaving marks I knew would linger. "Just be quiet... let this happen."

  I squeezed my eyes shut, covering them with trembling hands, trying to block out the nightmare. My mind reeled—I was just with Car, safe, away from this hell.

  How did I end up back here, under my abusive ex's control? The betrayal of my own reality cut deeper than the physical pain, each moment stretching into an eternity as I y there, powerless, drowning in despair.

  "Save me... please..."

  "I beg of you."

  The words tore out of me, and then the world snapped apart.

  I jolted awake with a sharp gasp, lungs burning as if I'd been running for my life. My heart hammered against my ribs, wild and out of control. For a split second, I didn't know where I was—only that I was trapped in the afterimage of pain.

  Then I felt arms around me.

  I blinked rapidly, my vision swimming, and the room came into focus. Soft morning light filtered through the curtains, pale gold instead of darkness. The sheets were warm and familiar.

  Car.

  She was holding me close, one hand pressed firmly between my shoulder bdes, the other cradling the back of my head. Her thumb moved in slow, grounding strokes, pulling me back piece by piece.

  "Hey... hey," she murmured, her voice low and calm, right against my ear. "You're here. You're safe. It was just a nightmare."

  My breathing stuttered, then gradually slowed as my body caught up to the truth. The tension locked in my muscles began to loosen, leaving me shaky and exhausted instead.

  I lifted my head slightly, just enough to look at her, my fingers clutching the fabric of her shirt like it was the only thing keeping me tethered.

  "You'll never hurt me... right?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, fragile and raw.

  Her expression didn't flicker. Not even for a second. "I would never hurt you, Miguel," she said firmly. "Not now. Not ever. I promise."

  Something in my chest cracked open.

  "I was back there," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "With Elena. She was... she was hurting me again. I couldn't get away. I felt so angry—so scared. Like I was breaking all over again."

  My grip tightened as I pressed closer to her, the fear of being alone again gnawing at me, irrational but powerful.

  Car's arms closed around me fully, protective, unyielding. She rested her chin lightly on my head, her fingers threading through my hair, scratching gently at my scalp in a way that made my thoughts slow and soften.

  "She will never find you," she said quietly. "I won't let her anywhere near you. You're done running. You're safe here."

  I nodded against her chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing anchoring me. The nightmare faded, dissolving into the warmth of her hold, until all that remained was the present moment—Morning light, a calm room, and the certainty that, for now, I was protected.

  "I'd die protecting you, Miguel."

  The way she said it—quiet, certain, like it wasn't a dramatic promise but a simple fact—made my chest tighten. My heart fluttered in a way that caught me off guard. No one had ever said something like that to me and meant it.

  I remembered, bitterly, how I'd once joked with Elena about the same thing. Asked her if she'd die for me. She hadn't ughed. She hadn't answered either. Just silence.

  Car wasn't silent.

  She was sincere.

  And some dangerous part of me loved that.

  "I don't want you to die, though," I murmured, my hands lifting on their own, fingertips brushing lightly against her chest as if to anchor her there. She let out a soft chuckle, deep and warm.

  "I won't," she said easily. "None of my rivals know where I live. Neither does the government." She smirked slightly. "They probably think I'm hiding out in some fuck-ass country like Serbia."

  I almost ughed, the tension easing from my shoulders. It made sense now—the guards, the checkpoints, the way this pce felt sealed off from the rest of the world. Even when everyone thought she was somewhere else, she never let her guard down.

  You never knew who was watching. You never knew when someone might try.

  But right now, wrapped in her arms, listening to her steady voice, all of that felt far away.

  "Have you ever been in any shootouts before, Car?" I asked suddenly.

  She looked down at me, really looked—like she was weighing how much truth to give. Then she sighed, her thumb brushing absentmindedly along my arm.

  "Of course I have. I won't deny it," she said. "Sometimes I miss it—being out there, fighting for my state, for my people. The adrenaline, the purpose... I loved it." Her jaw tightened just slightly before she continued. "But I could never go back to that life. Not fully. I prefer staying behind the scenes now. Quiet control."

  I nodded, letting that sink in.

  "If it wasn't for you," she added softly, "maybe that would be different. Maybe I'd jump back in just for the action." Her voice dropped. "But now I have a reason to keep living."

  My chest ached at that—in a good way. The kind that pulls at you, warm and terrifying all at once. God, Car was doing something to me, whether she realized it or not.

  "Well," I said with a small ugh, trying to keep it light, "I'm gd I saved you."

  She raised a brow, amused.

  "And I'm gd you saved me," I added, meaning it more than I'd ever meant anything.

  I smiled up at her as I stretched in her arms, my body finally loosening, the st remnants of my nightmare dissolving.

  She smiled back at me, her brown eyes locked onto mine. The space between us seemed to shrink without either of us meaning it to—her arm tightening around me, my body instinctively leaning in. I could feel her breath, warm and steady, and my heart started to race.

  I realized what was about to happen.

  I pulled back, ughing softly, awkwardly, trying to defuse the moment before it went somewhere I wasn't sure I was ready for.

  "So—uh... what do you want for breakfast?" I blurted, changing the subject entirely. "I need to know what I'm making for you."

  "You know you don't have to cook for me, right?" she started. "I can just have—"

  I gently lifted a finger and pressed it to her lips, shushing her. The contact made my face heat up.

  "You saved me," I said quietly. "Making you food is the least I can do."

  Car sighed, the corner of her mouth lifting as she gave in, like she knew arguing was pointless.

  "Can you make those chocote bacon pancakes again?" she asked. I'd made them the day before, and she'd practically melted—she'd almost cried over them.

  "Of course," I said without hesitation. "Let me just do my routine first. I'll meet you in the kitchen?"

  She hummed in agreement, rexing back into the pillows as I slipped off the bed and slid my feet into my slippers. I headed toward the bathroom connected to the bedroom, already pnning out the steps in my head, the comfort of routine settling over me as the door clicked shut behind me.

  "Was I really about to... kiss her?" I whispered to myself as I reached for my toothbrush.

  The thought didn't scare me. If anything, that realization unsettled me more than fear ever could. I pictured it for just a second—too long—and felt a quiet warmth settle in my chest. I almost wanted it... maybe more than almost.

  I exhaled slowly and squeezed toothpaste onto the bristles, the minty scent snapping me back to the present.

  "Don't overthink it, Miguel," I muttered to my reflection, meeting my own eyes in the mirror and trying to believe myself.

  ———

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