The drive back to the penthouse felt longer than the entire lifetime I had lived until this night. Elara was cradled in my arms in the backseat, her breath shaky and uneven, her face buried against my chest as if she couldn’t bear to look at the world that had just taken her from me. My men followed in a separate car, the captured gang tied and restrained, but none of that mattered. Not now. Not when she was shaking against me like a terrified child. Every tremor in her body dug under my skin like a hook. I held her tighter, one hand against the back of her head, the other wrapped firmly around her waist as though I could anchor her back to safety through force alone.
The moment we arrived, I carried her inside—not letting her walk, not letting her pretend she was strong enough, not letti
