Chapter 5 - Ranger #3
She steps inside slowly, taking in the space. The full bed with gray comforter. The dresser. The nightstand with a lamp. The complete absence of anything personal or decorative beyond basic furniture.
"It's perfect," she says. Then she turns to face me, and her eyes are wet. "Thank you. For everything. For coming to get me. For keeping me alive. For... for all of it."
"You don't need to thank me."
"Yes, I do. You could've died today because of me. You almost did die. That matters."
I want to tell her that's what I do. I calculate risks, execute plans, protect people who can't protect themselves. That today was just another operation, successful completion of an objective, nothing personal.
But I'd be lying.
It became personal the moment she opened that motel room door.
"Get some sleep," I tell her instead. "I'll be right down the hall if you need anything."
She nods but doesn't move. Just stands there looking at me like she wants to say something else but can't find the words.
"Delilah—"
"Will you stay?" she blurts out. Then immediately looks horrified. "I'm sorry. That's inappropriate. You barely know me. I shouldn't have—"
"Stay how?" I interrupt her.
"Just... nearby. Not in here. That would be weird. But close. So, if I wake up terrified I'm not alone." She's talking faster now, embarrassed. "Forget it. That's asking too much. You probably have things to do, other responsibilities—"
"My room is two doors down," I tell her. "I'll leave both doors open. If you need me, just call out. I'll hear you."
The relief on her face is almost painful to witness.
"Okay," she whispers. "Thank you."
I show her how the lock works, make sure she knows where everything is, and leave her to decompress in private. Two doors down, I enter my own room and immediately feel the tension of the day start to drain. I strip off my jacket, check my weapon, and sink onto the edge of my bed.
My phone buzzes. Text from my sister, Quinn: *Heard you had an exciting day. Everyone okay?*
I respond: *Everyone's fine. Witness secured. I'll fill you in tomorrow.*
**Quinn:** *You sound tired.*
*Three-day op compressed into three hours. Comes with the territory.*
**Quinn:** *Get some sleep, big brother. Stop being a hero long enough to take care of yourself.*
I almost smile at that. *Yes ma'am.*
I set the phone down and lie back, staring at the ceiling. My body is exhausted, but my mind is still running scenarios, replaying the day, analyzing what went right and what could've gone wrong.
The sound of water running through the pipes tells me Delilah is in the shower. Good. She needs it.
I close my eyes and try to force my brain to shut down. Fifteen minutes later, I'm still awake when I hear her door close. Then silence.
I count to sixty. Then another sixty.
Nothing.
Either she fell asleep immediately, possible given her exhaustion, or she's lying there staring at the ceiling the same way I am.
I'm about to give up on sleep myself when I hear it. Small sound. Barely audible. Could be nothing. Could be crying. I'm on my feet before I consciously decide to move, crossing the hallway in three strides. Her door is closed but not locked. I knock three times.
"Delilah? You okay?"
Silence. Then: "I'm fine. Sorry. Go back to sleep."
Her voice is trembling. Definitely crying.
"Can I come in?"
"You don't have to—"
"Can I come in?" I repeat.
A pause. Then: "Okay."
I open the door slowly. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, her hair damp from the shower. Tears streaming down her face that she's not bothering to hide anymore.
"I can't turn my brain off," she says miserably. "Every time I close my eyes I see him. The man from the office. I hear the gunshot. I hear David begging. And then I remember that Marcus tried to kidnap me today, and you had to kill his brother, and it's my fault—"
"Stop," I say, crossing the room to sit beside her on the bed. Not close enough to crowd her, just close enough to ground her. "None of this is your fault. You witnessed a crime. You reported it. Those were the right things to do. Everything that happened after was the Vipers' choice, not yours."
"People died because of me."
"People died because they chose to murder, to kidnap, to threaten innocent lives. That's on them."
She shakes her head, unconvinced. "I should've just kept my head down, and minded my own business."
"David's daughter deserves to know the truth about what happened to him," I interrupt. "You gave her that. You honored her father's life by refusing to let his death be meaningless. That took courage."
"It took stupidity."
"Sometimes those are the same thing."
She makes a sound that might be a laugh or might be a sob. "You're not very good at comfort."
"No," I agree. "But I'm good at truth. And the truth is you did the right thing, even though it cost you everything. That matters."
She's quiet for a long moment, tears still falling but slower now.
"Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep. I know I’ve already asked this and it’s pathetic but..."