Seven
1149 Words
Kaden:
The call should’ve been nothing.
A chimney fire. Contained. Routine. The kind of thing a probie could’ve wrapped without supervision. But the entire time, something crawled under my skin, unsettled and sharp. A pull. A warning.
A voice buried under instinct saying:
Get back. Now.
I tried to shake it off.
I couldn’t.
We cleared the fire in minutes. I didn’t wait for the overhaul. The second I stepped outside, snow swirling around me, the dread in my chest doubled.
I reached for my radio. “Frost to dispatch—status check on the station?”
Static. Too long.
Then: “All clear last report. Why?”
Why?
Because Emma had watched me leave like she already knew something was coming. Because her trauma had its own gravity and I should’ve listened when it pulled at me.
Because the difference between “safe” and “too late” was a single beat of hesitation.
And then—
A sound tore through the still night air.
Not a scream exactly. More like a choked cry. Pain. Fear.
Emma.
I ran.
Didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.
Just ran.
The firehouse came into view—door bent inward, snow disturbed by boot prints and drag marks.
My vision tunneled.
I hit the button for the bay door and ducked under before it lifted halfway. And the second I stepped inside—
My world stopped.
Emma was on the tile, blood running from her nose, lip split wide, eye swelling shut. Her breaths came in shaky bursts. Her hands trembled where she braced herself.
And her ex—
That bastard—
was on top of her, fist raised.
I didn’t remember moving.
Only the roar tearing from my chest:
“GET. AWAY. FROM. HER.”
I slammed into him hard enough that the lockers rattled. His body hit the wall with a crack, but I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. My rage had teeth.
“You touched her,” I snarled, forearm pinning him by the throat. “After I told you she was under my protection.”
He swung weakly.
I twisted his arm until he choked out a cry.
The officers stormed in seconds later, grabbing him, hauling him back as he spat curses.
I never looked at him again.
I only looked at her.
Emma.
Bleeding.
Bruised.
Barely upright.
And still—
still trying to protect something behind her.
My heart dropped.
Avery.
I dropped to my knees beside Emma, hands trembling as I reached for her without daring to touch.
“Emma.” My voice cracked under her name. “Sweetheart, look at me. Come on—look at me.”
She lifted her gaze.
And the way she looked at me—
like she was safe now—
nearly knocked me flat.
“Your nose… Jesus… your lip… your eye…” My thumb brushed blood from her cheek. “He did this?”
She nodded, barely.
Something inside me broke clean in half.
“Come here,” I said softly, sliding an arm around her back and lifting her inch by fragile inch. “I’ve got you. Easy.”
I guided her to the couch. She winced every time her ribs moved. My jaw tightened so hard it ached.
“I’m going to check your nose,” I murmured. “Tell me if it hurts too much.”
She nodded. I touched her gently, but even a featherlight press made her gasp and grab my wrist.
I froze instantly.
“I’m sorry. I won’t—no pressure.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she whispered.
That nearly undid me.
“He shouldn’t have touched you at all,” I said, voice low, shaking as I steadied the gauze beneath her nose.
When she trembled, I moved closer, letting her lean against my knee.
“You fought him,” I said, barely above a whisper. “You put yourself between him and my daughter like—”
I stopped.
Because something inside me
shifted.
Deep.
Decisive.
Irreversible.
She looked up at me, bruised but fierce.
“Like she was yours,” I finished quietly.
And the meaning was clear:
She had chosen Avery.
Claimed her.
Loved her with an instinct no one could teach.
That shift inside me anchored hard.
Mine, something whispered inside me.
Not a claim. Not ownership.
Family.
My family.
My girls.
I cupped her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek with a gentleness I didn’t know men like me were capable of.
“You didn’t just protect her,” I murmured. “You kept my whole world safe.”
Before I could say more—
Footsteps pounded down the hallway.
Small. Fast. Terrified.
Avery.
“EMMA!” her little voice cried, cracking mid-scream as she burst out of the office she’d been hiding in.
Emma jolted, pain flashing across her face, but she held out her arms anyway.
And Avery flew into them.
Emma grunted—hurt, ribs screaming—but she wrapped herself around that little girl with a strength that wasn’t physical. A strength born from love and terror and sheer, unbreakable instinct.
“It’s okay,” Emma whispered into Avery’s hair, voice shaking. “You’re okay. I’m right here.”
Avery sobbed into her shoulder. “He came back—he came back—he tried to—”
“I know,” Emma murmured, holding her tighter despite the pain. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
And I—
I stood there watching them, feeling something inside me shift again.
Not from fear this time.
From recognition.
I had dated before. Plenty of times. Nice women. Kind women.
Not once had Avery ever run to them.
Not once had she ever clung to someone like they were the safest place in the world.
But here—
in Emma’s bruised, bloodied arms—
my daughter was trembling and safe and home.
Emma kissed the top of Avery’s head, ignoring the blood smeared on her own face, ignoring the pain in every part of her body.
And I knew.
I knew with a certainty that hit like a blow:
This was different.
She was different.
They were already something.
Family, whispered the part of me I’d spent years sealing off.
Family, said the way Avery burrowed into Emma’s chest.
Family, said the way Emma wrapped herself around her despite the pain.
I went to them slowly, sitting beside Emma, placing a steady hand on Avery’s back and another on Emma’s shaking knee.
“I’ve got you both,” I murmured. “I swear it.”
Avery cried harder. Emma exhaled like she could finally breathe.
And as I held them—my daughter and the woman who had bled to protect her—I felt that quiet, irrevocable shift settle fully into place.
Something had changed tonight.
Something I wasn’t sure I could ever change back.
Something I didn’t want to.
- Writer
