Denver.
The engine’s steady hum was the only sound as we sped away from the nightmare.
Zee lay cradled in my arms, her body finally relaxing against mine. The adrenaline that had kept her going all night was draining away, leaving only exhaustion in its place.
By the time we reached my house, her breathing had slowed. I carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. She was out cold.
The drugs, the fear, the trauma—it was all crashing down now. She needed reassurance.
“You’re safe,” I whispered, kneeling beside her. “No one’s ever going to touch you like that again.”
She nodded slightly, her lip trembling as she let out a deep sigh—and then the tears came. Silent, heavy sobs that tore through her like a storm.
Each tear cut into me like a blade.
I let her cry. It was the only
