Chapter 37 Elara
Elara
The knife clattered against stone, echoing far louder than it should have. For a heartbeat, I almost reached for it again. But Beckett’s eyes held me steady.
No judgment. No suspicion. Just… belief.
It unraveled me faster than Hydra’s cruelty ever had.
I drew my knees closer, arms wrapping around them. My throat ached, the words fighting their way out before I could stop them. “I don’t remember who I was before Hydra. I try, but it’s like looking through fog. I see flashes—sunlight on water, someone laughing—but then it’s gone.”
His face tightened, as if my confession cut him too. “That’s not your fault.”
“Isn’t it?” My voice cracked, brittle. “They told me every day that I was theirs. That I was nothing before them, nothing without them. And the worst part is…” I swallowed hard, hating the tremor in my chest. “Sometimes I believed them.”
Beckett shifted, closing the space between us. His hand rested lightly on mine, rough and warm. Not trapping. Not claiming. Just there.
“They don’t own you, Elara.” His voice was low, certain, the kind of steel you could build a foundation on. “You’re here. You fought beside us. That’s you. Not them.”
I turned my hand, slowly, until my fingers slid against his. Our palms met, skin to skin. Simple. Shattering.
“You make it sound easy,” I whispered.
“It isn’t.” His thumb brushed over the back of my hand, steady as a heartbeat. “But it’s worth it.”
I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that nothing Hydra touched could ever be worth saving. But the heat of his hand against mine told a different story. For the first time in years, I felt tethered to something other than pain.
“You’ll regret this,” I said softly.
His gaze locked on mine, unflinching. “I already don’t.”
The cave fell silent again, but it wasn’t empty. The air between us pulsed, charged with something fragile and dangerous. I leaned into it, into him, letting my forehead rest against his shoulder.
He didn’t move for a long moment. Then his arm slid around me, slow and careful, pulling me against him. His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek, solid, grounding.
For the first time since Hydra had chained me in silk and lies, I let myself close my eyes.
And I didn’t feel like a prisoner. I felt… free.