Layla
He was safe.
Alive.
Wrapped in my arms. Breathing, warm, little heart thudding against my palm. Alive, safe, here.
“Eli. Eli.” Panic still clutched my throat in a brutal vice, choking out the sobs, the words built up in my chest. “I thought … I thought they …”
My words came out in shattered, ragged fragments. Unformed thoughts broken by fear and relief. I couldn’t hold him tight enough, couldn’t reassure myself enough that everything would be all right.
But was he all right?
I pulled away, my hands roving over his tiny body to check for injuries, seeking out signs of blood, bruises, pain … “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”
Eli shook his head, his wide, frightened eyes meeting mine. “No, Mama. I’m okay.”
I leaned in again, pressed a kiss to his forehead, only distantl
