Chapter 36
Chapter thirty-six
Emma
Candace folded in on herself. A marionette with cut strings.
"Hey, look at me." I reached for her.
She flinched.
Her breathing was too fast—every inhale snagging, every exhale trembling.
"Candace," I tried again, voice low and steady. "You're safe."
Her head shook violently. "No. He—he'll come back. He always—he always comes back."
I reached for her again, but let my hand fall. "Not tonight," I tried instead. "Everything will be—"
"You don't know that." Her voice splintered. "If he thinks I called the cops—"
She went still, the air evaporating from the room.
"He'll make me pay."
Behind me, Damien sucked in a breath. I glanced over my shoulder.
Bloody knuckles. Pale face. Back flat against the wall.
A problem for another time.
I turned back to Candace. "Can I hold you?"
A nod this time, small but certain.
I reached around her, circling my arms around her small frame.
"It's okay," I murmured. "Just breathe with me. Slow. Right here."
She tried. God, she tried. Her chest hitched, throat working around another sob.
"I'm so stupid. I should have known he'd show up. I should have—"
"Shh," I shushed her. "You don't carry his choices. You don't get punished for his behavior."
Candace squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders shaking. "Someone has to."
"Not you," I managed, my eyes burning.
I looked over my shoulder. Damien had slid down the wall to the floor. Eyes fixed at the back of his hands.
Candace's voice cracked. "I can't talk to the police, Emma. I can't. He'll blame me."
Her forehead pressed into my collarbone. Her breath was hot and uneven through my shirt.
"I'm right here," I whispered.
Behind me, Damien exhaled—quiet, strained.
Candace nodded against me. Exhausted.
I held her. Minutes, maybe longer. Time measured in shaky breaths and the slow unclenching of her fists against my shirt.
Eventually the trembling stopped.
A yawn cracked her jaw.
"I'm exhausted."
I rubbed her back. "Then let's get you to bed."
I'd tried to stay. Offered to sleep on her couch, but she declined.
"I need to be in my own space," she whispered. "I'll lock the door. I'll be fine."
I'll be fine.
Every instinct screamed no. But Damien stepped in.
He made the calls—fast, efficient. Within minutes, building security was alerted, the doorman tipped.
The only reason I agreed to leave.
Damien checked the lock one last time after we stepped out.
"You ready?" he asked quietly.
No.
I nodded.
The elevator doors slid open. He placed a hand at the small of my back and guided me inside.
As the doors closed, adrenaline drained away.
She was safe.
At least for tonight.
My gaze fell to Damien's hands.
Split knuckles. Drying blood. Swelling already setting in.
"Damien," I said softly. "I didn't want you in a fist fight tonight."
"I know." His shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry, I tried not to."
My brows furrowed. "Tried?"
He sighed, long and weary.
"I tried not to be like him, but—"
I froze.
Him.
The him.
I caught his hand.
He didn't pull away.
The seconds ticking by in silence.
The elevator dinged, doors opening wide.
We stepped out, the doors closing behind us.
Damien's voice, small and quiet. "Do you hate me?"
I stilled mid step, turning to look at him.
"What?" the word came on a breath. "Why would you ask that?"
He shrugged, the movement jerky. "I don't know."
I reached up, tracing my thumb along his cheek.
Sad.
He looked sad.
"What's going on?"
He looked away, throat working.
"When I was five, my mom left him," he said at last. "He'd find her. She'd go back. And the cycle would start again."
His eyes went glossy.
"He'd scream. Break things. Sometimes the walls. Sometimes—"
He shook his head, blinking.
"Sebastian was so young. I learned to fight. He learned to run." His voice cracked. "Maybe if I'd protected him better, he wouldn't have turned to—."
"That wasn't your job," I said.
"I know," he whispered. "But I still felt responsible."
He looked down at his knuckles, the blood crusting on his skin. "And now I do this."
I cupped his jaw, bringing his dark eyes to mine.
"You're not him."
He searched my face. "How are you so sure?"
"Because I've seen you. All of you."
He went still.
"You think your anger defines you, but it doesn't. What defines you is what you do with it."
I brushed my thumb along his cheek.
"You held Sebastian together in that hospital bed. You sat with Candace for hours. You calm me down when my head turns against me. You stay when I come apart."
His breath shuddered.
"You protect. You don't control or harm. You care."
"Emma…" His voice cracked.
"You're nothing like your father."
He leaned into me, forehead resting against mine.
"You're a good man," I whispered. "The best one I know."
I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing tight.
"You see too much good in me," he whispered.
I rested my cheek against his chest, his heartbeat steady in my ear.
"You don't see enough."