Colt didn’t speak again.
He didn’t need to.
He just held her.
Avery was curled into his chest, her fingers fisted in the fabric of his shirt like she was afraid letting go would break her open again.
Colt sat on the leather couch in his office, arms wrapped tightly around her, chin resting against the top of her head. His jaw was locked, but his touch was gentle. Protective. Steady.
Her breathing was shallow at first. Quick. Unsettled.
But the longer he held her, the more it started to slow.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Colt said nothing when her hand moved under his shirt just to feel his skin — a reminder that he was real, warm, alive. That she was safe. That she had made it out.
He didn’t move when her tears soaked through the fabric. He just tightened his grip, keeping h
