25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
EMMA EASTON
When I open my eyes, morning light is already spilling through the curtains. For a moment, I don’t move. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, letting last night replay itself since I woke up alone.
He told me he was still sleeping in the basement because he didn’t want to take any chances with me.
He doesn’t trust himself yet. And when I walked him back to his room, he chose to kiss me again.
I let him set the pace with everything. The kiss was definitely hesitant at first, ensuring that he was in control. And when I kissed him back, he eased.
His eyes lifted to mine. “Lock the door,” he said. Then, quieter, “Just in case.”
I sit up and push the blanket off my legs, the memory lingering in my mind.
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and stand.
Downstairs, I can already hear the house waking up.
There are voices and movement, likely Adela, Nico, and Rafe.
Kieran seems to enjoy his beauty sleep, while the other three are more like intense, type-A humans.
***
After a proper shower, I head downstairs, passing Micah and Heather’s room, where they’re still passed out. And when I reach the main floor, I pause at the bottom of the stairs.
Jude is already there, standing beside Rafe near the kitchen island, shoulders angled toward Adela’s laptop. Nico leans toward his laptop nearby, and Kieran is farther back, half-leaning against the kitchen counter, just listening.
“What will happen if these get out?” Adela asks Jude, taking a sip of coffee.
He sighs, crossing his arms. “I’ll never see the outside of a prison again,” he says flatly.
“Oof,” she snorts. “That bad, huh? Noted.”
Rafe notices me first. His eyes flick up, calm as ever. “Morning.”
I exhale a little. “Morning.”
That draws Jude’s attention. The moment his eyes land on me, something subtle shifts in his expression. It’s almost like he’s recalibrating himself around my presence.
“Hey,” he says.
I move closer, stopping beside him, and for a second, I just watch him. He’s holding himself together in real time.
Adela glances up from her screen. “We’re pulling more layers from both systems,” she says. “It’s slower than yesterday, but we’re getting cleaner access.”
Nico nods once. “We’re mapping behavioral triggers now. Not just files. We’re close with Nolan’s.”
Kieran adds, quieter, “Alexei’s web of fucking hell isn’t far behind.”
“What can I say?” Adela shrugs. “We’re killing it.”
“My little doe,” Rafe purrs, bending over to nibble her ear, and she swats him away playfully.
Jude listens to all of it without interrupting, but I can see that he’s still partially existing elsewhere. I glance at his beautiful side profile while he’s lost in thought.
Rafe straightens, arms folding. “We’re going to need supplies. Wanna go into town with me today?”
That pulls Jude back from his thoughts.
“Mainly food,” Rafe clarifies, almost casually. “Basic things. We’re running low. Might be good for you to get out a little bit.”
Micah’s voice drifts in from the hallway before he even enters. “Finally. I need more ramen.”
Heather follows him in with a small, tired smile. “Those aren’t good for you.”
He shrugs. “Blondie, I’ve injected drugs into my veins for the past, like, ten years. Ramen is the better option here.”
She rolls her eyes and doesn’t argue.
Jude doesn’t laugh, but I see the corner of his mouth twitch like it wants to. That tiny almost-reaction feels huge, honestly. Another step toward normal.
Rafe looks at Jude directly now. “You coming?”
A beat passes.
Jude glances down at his hands, then back up, like he’s checking in with himself before he answers. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”
I reach for my jacket without thinking. “Okay. Then let’s go.”
Rafe glances at Kieran, Nico, and Adela. “If anyone approaches who isn’t us, kill them.”
Adela grins like a cat. “Yes, sir.”
***
The cabin fades behind us as Jude pulls out onto the main wooded road. His hands are firm on the wheel, his eyes scanning everything that moves outside the car.
Rafe is in the passenger seat beside him, completely unbothered.
“You’re tracking every movement outside the car,” I say softly.
Jude doesn’t look at me right away. His eyes stay forward, jaw tight. “I have to. I’m driving,” he says.
“Do you think it’s a good idea for you to drive?” I reply. “Rafe can take over.”
“I’m fine,” he mutters. “I like this control.”
“Okay, just be careful.”
“Obviously,” he snaps, agitation leaking through.
Rafe sighs, leaning his head back. “This is already more emotional processing than I budgeted for this morning. I would like everyone to remember I did not consent to a group therapy grocery trip. So, get it together, Graves.”
Jude exhales through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. We take the back roads like Rafe suggested, long stretches of empty asphalt cutting through fields and trees. At first, Jude is rigid in it. Every passing shadow pulls his attention.
“You’re safe here,” I say quietly, watching him.
His grip on the wheel tightens again. “Don’t start analyzing me right now. I am fine.”
“I’m not analyzing you,” I say, suddenly feeling like I am. “I’m—I’m talking to you. And, I guess, observing…”
He glances back in the rearview mirror. And I feel the annoyance creeping in.
Rafe, completely deadpan, finally speaks. “If you two keep emotionally cross-examining each other while he’s driving, I’m going to suggest something.”
Jude sighs again, his eyes locking on mine through the mirror. It triggers goosebumps over my arms.
And then I narrow my eyes. “Jude, if you keep looking back at me, you’re going to crash and kill us.”
His eyes flick to mine in the mirror again anyway. That pause between us changes temperature. His voice drops. “Then stop tempting my control, Emma. Or I swear to god I’ll pull this fucking car over and show you exactly what happens when I lose it.”
I snap my mouth shut, because he doesn’t exactly sound like he’s threatening me. He sounds like he’s warning himself. But still, who the hell is this Jude? And why did that make my stomach do a little flip?
Rafe lifts a hand. “Just so we’re all aligned on expectations, I do believe this is the point where I suggest you either resolve this tension or, dear therapist, can further explain how this shit is with you, Jude.”
Jude shakes his head, taking a turn that the GPS is leading us.
I lean forward, watching his profile. “Jude,” I say carefully, “How are you feeling?”
His eyes flick up in the mirror. “Agitaged. Overstimulated, maybe,” he says.
“Oh,” I respond. “That’s normal. But if you feel it getting worse, please let us know, yeah?”
He remains quiet.
Rafe glances over at me then, finally engaged. “So basically,” he says, “don’t let the murder instincts take the wheel.”
“That’s one way to put it,” I reply, and despite everything, a small breath of amusement slips out of me.
Jude doesn’t laugh, but his shoulders loosen. The road changes again, turning from paved highway into quieter country stretches, trees growing denser on either side.
Then Rafe speaks again, completely casual, like he’s discussing the weather. “You know,” he says, “there’s an argument to be made for replacing trauma responses with something a little more enjoyable. You know, like yesterday.”
I blink at him. “That’s…not how I’d put it right now.”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t make it wrong.”
“Well, it doesn’t make it right in this moment, either,” I counter. “You're here.”
“Didn't stop you before,” he says swiftly.
I roll my eyes.
Jude finally glances slightly toward him. “Explain.”
Rafe tilts his head back against the seat.
“Pain pathways are associative. If something triggers a collapse, your brain is already wired to follow that collapse pattern all the way through. But if you interrupt the pattern with a different stimulus, something physical and immediate…sometimes, you can reroute the response before it completes itself. If you’re feeling on edge of being triggered at all, perhaps you should consider distracting yourself. ”
There’s a beat of silence after that. Jude’s grip on the wheel tightens slightly. “And what kind of stimulus are you suggesting?” he asks flatly.
Rafe finally turns his head just enough to look at him. “You’re in a car with a trained therapist, and you’re still making me say it out loud?”
I huff because I know exactly where this idiot is going with this. I also know he’s not entirely wrong in the narrow, clinical sense of emotional override through physical grounding.
Jude exhales slowly through his nose. “That’s insane.”
“Is it?” Rafe replies. “Or is it just uncomfortable because it involves acknowledging you’re not a goddamn machine? You can have complex responses, you know.”
That lands heavier than he probably intends.
Jude doesn’t respond immediately, but I can see his mind start testing the idea against his own experience, rather than rejecting it outright. And then, without warning, his hand leaves the wheel just long enough to flick the turn signal.
We slow.
I glance up. “Jude?”
But he’s already pulling over. The car rolls to a stop along the edge of a quiet road framed by trees and open space, far enough from anything that it feels like we won’t be interrupted.
“Well,” Rafe says calmly, already reaching for his phone, “This is going to be quite therapeutic. Can’t say I want to be here for this, but…” He shrugs. “I get it. And, I’ve already watched you fuck before, so.”
Jude is already opening his door. “I need you out,” he says to Rafe, voice tight but controlled.
Rafe doesn’t even look surprised. He just unbuckles his seatbelt. “Finally,” he says, opening his door. “I was starting to think I was going to have to endure metaphorical foreplay all the way to a grocery store.” He gets out, closes the door, and walks a few steps away.
I stare after him. “Is he…serious?” I ask.