Chapter 21
SYVANNAH
“Tiny!” I scream, choking on smoke.
The world tilts when I reach the end of the hallway.
Smoke is burning my eyes, glass biting into my palms. My breath is scraping raw against my chest. The light ahead is too bright, too sharp, and for a moment, I can’t tell if I’m moving toward it or if the shelter is collapsing behind me, pushing me forward.
Boots thunder across the concrete as gunfire tears through the air, and somewhere in the chaos, someone shouts my name, raw with panic, fury, and something that almost sounds like a prayer.
“Syvannah!”
My knees weaken at the sound. I clutch the wall, dragging myself another step, then another. Peanut wiggles beneath my shirt, her frantic little heartbeat thundering against my ribs. I don’t know how much farther I can crawl, how much more my body can give.
Through the haze of smoke, I recognize the broad shoulders, the steady, familiar stride, the blood smeared across knuckles that tell me exactly what he’s done to find me. Tiny.
His eyes find me through the haze, widening. Not with shock, not with disbelief, but with a relief so fierce it nearly buckles him. His gun drops from his hand. A sound leaves his throat, something cracked open and reverent.
“Baby Girl…”
I’m in his arms before my body fully collapses.
He gathers me up carefully but tight, like he’s afraid the world will try to rip me away again.
Peanut is still tucked beneath my shirt, her tiny body pressed to my ribs, trembling but alive.
Tiny’s arms curve around both of us instinctively, shielding me and the little creature who refused to leave my side.
My cheek presses to his shoulder, and I feel the tremor running through his entire frame.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice splintering. “You’re safe now. I got you.”
His scent of smoke, sweat, leather, and the warmth I’ve been reaching for in the dark, floods my lungs.
My fingers curl weakly into his cut, the smallest motion I can manage, and it still makes his breath catch.
He holds me like the faint twitch of my hand is enough to anchor both of us back into the same world.
The hallway is chaos behind us. Brothers shouting positions. A pair of twins growling threats. Aloiki barking orders. Wait? When did the Hawaii chapter get here?
Capone is yelling for medics. But the moment Tiny lifts me tighter, the chaos dulls, as if the world agrees that, for this heartbeat, everything else can wait.
My voice breaks around a whisper. “I knew you’d come.”
He presses his mouth to my hair, breathing me in. “There’s no world where I don’t.”
Tiny’s arms never loosen, not even as my body shakes uncontrollably against him. Peanut stays tucked beneath my shirt, her small heartbeat fluttering frantically against my skin as Tiny carries us through the smoke-filled corridor.
The night air hits my face when we finally break outside, cool against my overheated skin. Voices blur around us. Shouts, orders, engines revving, but Tiny’s voice cuts through all of it, low and rough with fear he can’t hide.
“Red! Knight! Bring the van, now!”
They’re already running toward us. Red reaches us first, breathing hard, his eyes going wide when he sees the state I’m in. “Jesus, Tiny… she can’t ride. Get her in the van.”
“I’m not letting her out of my arms,” Tiny says, pulling me closer as if he expects someone to take me from him.
Knight swings the rear doors open and steps aside. “We’ll keep her safe. You need to clear the rest of the building.”
Tiny hesitates, looking between the smoke behind him and the van in front of him, torn in a way I’ve never seen. I reach for his cut, fingers trembling, and he bends closer immediately.
“You have to go,” I whisper, my voice barely working. “Finish it. Please.”
His jaw tightens, the muscles clenching like he’s fighting the entire universe. “Baby Girl… I just got you back.”
Red places a reassuring hand on Tiny’s shoulder. “We’ve got her. You trust us to do that?”
Tiny looks down at me again, eyes burning, and nods once. “Okay. But I’m coming right back.”
“I know,” I breathe.
He lowers me gently into the van, as if I’m made of glass. Peanut crawls higher up my shirt, burying herself beneath my chin, her tiny body curling protectively against mine.
Red crouches close enough for me to see the worry stamped on his face. “That cat really did go through the ducts for you,” Red mutters, smoothing a blanket over me. “Braver than half the men I know.”
Knight huffs out a tense laugh. “She led us right to the damn building.”
Tiny hovers. His hand curves around the side of my face, warm despite the trembling. “Stay awake for me if you can.”
I manage the faintest nod. “Be safe.”
His breath shudders, then he steps back, shutting the van doors with a final thud that vibrates through my bones. The engines outside climb into a fierce, relentless roar, the kind that shakes the ground and tells you the brothers are already carving their way back into the fight.
Knight climbs into the driver’s seat. Red settles beside him, twisting to look at me. “We’re getting you home now. Just breathe, Syvannah.”
I try.
The van rocks gently, soothing, blurring the edges of the pain, the fear, and the adrenaline still pulsing through me. Peanut’s purr vibrates against my chest, grounding me in a way nothing else can.
Red speaks again, his voice warmer now. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”
Knight adds, “Almost there. Just rest.”
The world softens. The sirens fade. The lights streak past the windows like smudges of color. My thoughts drift between waking and dreaming, held together only by warmth, motion, and the lingering imprint of Tiny’s arms around me.
I wake to antiseptic and soft light. My body throbs with bruises and glass cuts, the tremor of fear lingering in my muscles. Yet beneath the ache is the steady truth that I survived.
Peanut is curled on my chest beneath the blankets, her tiny purr gently vibrating against my ribs. For the first time since that cage, my body unclenches. I’m safe.
Tiny sits beside the bed, shoulders hunched, elbows braced on his knees. His hands are wrapped in white bandages, faintly stained pink where fresh wounds won't stop bleeding. His eyes are locked on me with a focus so intense it borders on prayer.
My throat tightens. He looks wrecked. Bruised knuckles, dried blood, soot smudged across his jawline. But it’s the raw, unguarded look on his face that steals my breath.
I swallow. “Tiny…”
Relief floods his face. He leans closer, his hands hovering like he’s afraid to touch me and hurt me, even though he was the one who carried me out of a burning hell.
“You’re awake,” he whispers. “Jesus, Baby Girl… you’re awake.”
I reach out, brushing my fingers over the back of his hand. His breath shudders.
“I didn’t save you,” he murmurs, his voice rough with guilt. “I… I should’ve stopped this.”
“Tiny.” He falls silent. I lift his hand and press it against my chest where my heart still beats, shaky but stubborn. “You didn’t save me,” I whisper, watching something break open behind his eyes. “You found me.”
His breath catches.
“I don’t want to be saved,” I continue softly. “I want to live. With choices. With people who see me. With someone who… doesn’t look at me and see a broken thing to fix.”
A long, uneven exhale leaves him.
His thumb brushes my cheek. “I’ve never once seen you as broken.”
The warmth of his touch sinks into me, deep and certain, and something unshakable inside me steadies.
For the first time since he walked into that smoke-filled shelter, he smiles, truly smiles. Not strained or haunted or edged with pain, but soft and unburdened and quietly hopeful, and the sight of it steals my breath in an entirely different way.
I lace my fingers through his, squeezing gently. “Tiny… I’m here.”
His eyes close for a moment, a slow, aching blink. When he opens them again, they shine with something so vulnerable it could undo a lesser person.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “You are.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise.
He scoots closer, resting his forehead lightly against mine, our breaths mixing in a quiet rhythm that feels like the first peaceful moment in years. He’s not letting go.