Chapter 53 Wren
The sound of the door breaking still echoes in my bones.
Every time I blink, I see it—the frame splintering, wood cracking, the boys flooding inside like a storm that finally broke loose. Part of me wants to collapse with relief. Part of me wants to run. All of me feels like my skin doesn’t fit right.
Finn’s arms are around me.
Atlas is pacing like a caged animal.
Kael is on the phone, voice low and clipped.
The apartment feels smaller by the second.
Finn’s shirt soaks under my wet hair as I press my forehead into him. My towel is slipping, my hands shaking, my breath catching at weird, uneven intervals that I can’t control.
“He was here,” I whisper.
Finn’s hand slides up my back, steady, warm, protective. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
Sweetheart.
The word shouldn’t comfort me.
It does.
Atlas rounds the corner from my bedroom, jaw tight, muscles bunched like he’s one heartbeat away from putting a hole in the wall.
“There’s no sign of forced entry,” he growls. “He picked the lock. All of them.”
My stomach twists.
Atlas’s eyes burn when he looks at me.
Not at my towel.
Not at my bare legs.
At my face.
My fear.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, breath ragged. “I should’ve stayed inside the building.”
“No,” Kael says. He’s calm, but only on the surface. “He waited until we left. He watched us leave.”
“That’s worse,” Finn mutters into my hair.
I swallow. Hard.
“I need... clothes,” I say quietly. “Please.”
Finn’s arms tense around me. He loosens his hold immediately, stepping back but staying close, hands hovering like he’s afraid I’ll fall.
Kael nods. “Let’s get you dressed. Come on.”
I take one step—and my knees buckle.
Finn catches me first.
Atlas is there a half second later, fingers brushing my elbow, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “Easy. You’re in shock.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine.”
All three of them give me the same look.
No, you’re not.
Kael leads me to the bedroom doorway and stops me with a hand on my shoulder—gentle, but firm. “Stay here. We’ll get your things.”
I open my mouth to protest.
Finn steps in front of me. “Wren. Let us.”
His voice cracks a little.
Just enough to undo me.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Atlas is the one who walks inside first.
Of course he is.
He picks my clothes off the chair—sweats, a long-sleeve shirt, fresh underwear—without looking at anything else. He hands them to Kael, jaw tight enough to fracture.
Kael brings them to me, setting them in my hands carefully, like they’re fragile.
“Bathroom?” he asks.
“Yes,” I manage.
He walks me there. Finn stays two steps behind. Atlas hovers at the door of the bedroom, watching the hallway, shoulders blocking half the frame like a wall.
Inside the bathroom, I turn the lock.
Or try to.
It slips once.
Twice.
My fingers shake too hard.
I close my eyes.
Three seconds pass.
Then Finn’s voice comes through the door. “Wren? You okay?”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
The lock clicks.
I dress quickly, hands trembling hard enough I almost put my shirt on backward. My hair drips onto the floor. My towel lies in a heap that makes my stomach twist when I look at it.
He saw me like that.
In a towel.
Vulnerable.
Cornered.
My throat burns.
I splash cold water on my face and stare at my reflection.
Red eyes.
Blotchy cheeks.
A girl who looks nothing like the one who insisted she could spend one night alone.
I walk out before I can fall apart.
All three of them stand in my tiny hallway, taking up the entire space.
Kael looks at me first.
His eyes soften. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay. Good.”
Finn releases a breath he must’ve been holding the entire time I was gone. “You look—fine. I mean—you look okay.”
Atlas doesn’t say a word.
He steps forward.
Lifts my chin gently with two fingers.
Searches my face.
Something breaks in his expression. Something sharp and awful and protective.
Then he turns to Kael.
“We’re not staying,” Atlas says. “We’re getting her out of here. Now.”
Kael nods once. “Pack what she needs.”
Finn disappears into my bedroom without waiting for instructions.
Atlas looks at me again. “You’re not coming back here tonight.”
His voice leaves no room for argument.
I should argue anyway.
I should reclaim some control.
I should prove I’m not a victim.
But all I can do is whisper, “Okay.”
Because the truth is simple:
I don’t feel brave anymore.
Not tonight.
And I don’t have to pretend in front of them.
Finn returns with my backpack, stuffed, the zipper half-done, clothes sticking out in places. He hands it to me like it’s made of glass.
“Got your chargers,” he murmurs. “And your inhaler. And, um... a book you left on your nightstand.”
I blink. “My book?”
He shrugs. “You always read before bed.”
My chest tightens.
Kael steps toward the shattered door. “We’re going out the back. Fewer eyes.”
Atlas positions himself behind me—close enough to shield me, far enough not to crowd.
But Finn is the one who takes my hand.
He doesn’t ask.
He doesn’t force.
He just... offers.
A silent is this okay?
I look at him.
His worried eyes.
His trembling thumb.
I nod.
He threads his fingers through mine.
Warm.
Steady.
A lifeline.
We move as one down the hallway.
My apartment behind us.
The darkness inside it still clinging to my skin like damp fabric.
Halfway down the stairs, my knees shake again.
Finn squeezes my hand.
Kael glances back. “Take your time.”
Atlas keeps scanning every corner, every shadow, jaw clenched.
At the bottom of the stairwell, Finn stops walking.
He turns to me.
“Wren,” he says softly, “we’re not letting him near you again.”
His voice cracks on the last word.
I look at all three of them—
Kael, steady and sure.
Atlas, burning and silent.
Finn, frightened and brave.
And for the first time since the bathroom door opened...
I breathe.
A real breath.
Shaky, yes.
But mine.
I squeeze Finn’s hand back.
“I know,” I whisper.
And I believe it.