26. Blaze
BLAZE
The second Vaughn said worst part, every instinct in my body sharpened.
Because Flick’s face lost all color instantly.
Not nervous.
Not scared.
Destroyed.
My stomach dropped hard.
There it is.
Something she never told anybody.
Vaughn smiled through blood when he saw her reaction.
Cruel bastard.
“Oh yeah,” he rasped. “He doesn’t know.”
“Hersh…”
Flick’s voice cracked softly behind me.
I looked back at her immediately.
Always immediately.
And Jesus Christ?—
she looked terrified.
Not of Vaughn.
Of me hearing whatever this was.
That alone made rage climb hot through my chest.
Because what had happened to her that she thought I'd look at her differently afterward?
I stood slowly beside Vaughn.
The tavern had gone dead silent now.
Trigger stopped joking.
Wolf’s arms folded tightly across his chest.
Even Tate looked tense.
“Hersh,” Flick whispered again.
I crossed the room toward her without taking my eyes off her face.
Not Vaughn.
Never Vaughn.
Her.
Only her.
“Hey.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
God.
That one word kept undoing her.
“What is it?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head once.
Then again.
Like she physically couldn’t say it.
Behind us, Vaughn laughed weakly.
“She was hiding under a car crying while they executed those people.”
I didn’t even look at him.
Already knew he was trying to hurt her.
“She heard everything,” Vaughn continued. “Begging. Screaming. Gunshots.” His voice turned uglier. “Then one of the girls crawled toward her.”
The tavern went still.
Completely still.
Flick made the smallest broken sound beside me.
And suddenly I knew.
Oh God.
“She saw you,” I whispered.
Tears spilled instantly down Flick’s cheeks.
“She was still alive,” Flick whispered shakily. “For a minute.”
Jesus.
Pain hit me hard enough to blur my vision for half a second.
Not because of the violence.
Because Flick carried this alone.
For months.
Vaughn kept talking anyway.
“The girl begged her for help.”
Wolf swore quietly under his breath.
Tate’s face hardened.
Ava looked sick again.
“Hersh…” Flick’s voice broke completely now. “I tried.”
I turned toward her fully.
“What?”
“I tried to help her.”
The grief in her voice nearly split me open.
“I crawled toward her after they left.” Her breathing turned uneven. “There was so much blood and she kept reaching for me and?—”
She stopped hard.
Like the memory physically choked her.
I caught her face gently between my hands instantly.
“Hey. Hey, look at me.”
Her eyes lifted to mine.
Shattered.
Completely shattered.
“I couldn’t save her,” Flick whispered.
There it was.
The real wound.
Not fear.
Not witness protection.
Guilt.
Sweet Jesus.
“She died holding my hand.”
The entire tavern fell silent.
Even Vaughn shut up.
Because suddenly this wasn’t a federal witness anymore.
This was a woman drowning under survivor’s guilt.
Flick started crying harder now.
Not graceful tears.
The kind buried deep.
“I still hear her,” she whispered brokenly. “Every night.”
That did it.
Absolutely did it.
I pulled her against me immediately.
Hard.
Protective.
Mine.
Her hands grabbed fistfuls of my shirt instantly like she was drowning.
And maybe she was.
“She asked me not to let them forget her,” Flick cried against my chest. “And I ran.”
“No.”
The word came out rough enough to shake.
“You survived.”
“She died!”
“And you survived.”
I pulled back just enough to make her look at me.
“You listen to me real carefully, Flick.”
Her breathing shook hard.
Tears everywhere.
Beautiful and broken and still trying to carry everybody else’s pain.
“You are not guilty because monsters exist.”
Emotion cracked across her face violently.
“But she was reaching for me?—”
“And you stayed.”
The room went dead silent again.
Because everybody understood what I meant.
She stayed.
Even terrified.
Even hunted.
Even after everything?—
Flick crawled toward someone dying because she couldn’t leave them alone.
Jesus Christ.
How could anybody not love this woman?
My thumb brushed beneath her tears carefully.
“That girl didn’t die alone,” I whispered softly.
Flick broke completely after that.
A sob tore out of her hard enough it nearly dropped me to my knees with her.
Behind us, Vaughn muttered quietly:
“She was collateral damage.”
Wrong.
Thing.
To.
Say.
I felt the entire room shift.
Wolf uncrossed his arms slowly.
Trigger stood up straight.
Tate looked done with due process entirely.
And Ava?
Ava holstered her weapon and looked away like she officially saw nothing from this point forward.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
I kissed Flick’s forehead once.
Then looked toward Vaughn.
And smiled.