Page 9 of Saving Meri

Bear came closer. Not close enough to touch, but close enough that she felt him. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

She let out a sharp breath, turning to face him head-on. “I think men like you always have a plan. And I think you want something from me.”

His gaze darkened, something dangerous and unreadable flickering beneath the surface. “The only thing I want from you is to see you walk out of this as whole as you can be.”

Her stomach clenched, her fingers twitching at her sides. Meri turned away again, trying to breathe past the suffocating pressure in her chest. Too much. Too much.

She didn’t register moving until Bear was there, his hands catching her wrists, stopping her. She whirled, trying to jerk free. Not again. Not again.

But Bear didn’t let go. Didn’t hurt. Didn’t crush. Didn’t demand. His grip was unyielding, a tether instead of a shackle.

“Stop,” he ordered, voice steady. “Look at me.”

She fought him—not physically, not really—but she fought. Her breathing was too fast. Her thoughts were too loud. Bear held her there, kept her from drowning in her own mind.

The moment stretched, an eternity wrapped in the space between survival and surrender.

Meri hated him for grounding her. Hated the way her pulse slowed beneath his grip. Hated that she needed it.

His fingers flexed slightly, just enough to remind her he was there. “You done?”

Her throat burned, her nails pressing into her palms. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

His voice was too calm, too controlled, and that was what finally snapped her back. She went still. Not broken. Not beaten. Just… still.

Bear let one more beat pass before he loosened his grip and released her. Meri staggered back, inhaling sharply, blinking against the reality of the moment. She had expected pain, expected force, expected the world to spin into the nightmare she’d lived for too long.

Instead, all she found was him. Watching. Waiting… and somehow, that was worse.

Bear stepped back, giving her space, giving her time. “Get some rest.”

Meri didn’t answer. Instead, she moved back into her room and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, her shoulders rigid, her heartbeat too loud in her ears. The moment Bear had let her go, she’d expected him to storm off, leave her to unravel in the suffocating quiet. Instead, she saw him standing at the small kitchenette in the corner of the warehouse, making her a plate of food like this was just another night, like this was normal.

She hated that. Hated how unaffected he seemed. Hated that he hadn’t punished her for snapping, for pushing, for trying to claw back a sense of control she no longer understood.

"You’re eating," Bear said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Meri’s hands curled into fists on the blanket. “I’m not hungry.”

Bear turned, broad and steady, plate in hand, dark gaze pinning her in place. “You need food.”

She lifted her chin. “I said I’m not hungry.”

He crossed the room in three easy strides and placed the plate on the nightstand beside her. “Eat anyway.”

The command in his voice sent something sharp and electric down her spine.

Her pulse kicked against her throat as she looked at the plate—steak, eggs, toast, all things she used to love. Her stomach coiled. The scent should have made her hungry. Instead, it made her nauseous. For months, food had been a weapon. A tool for control. Earned, taken away, used to break her. Her throat closed up, her body refusing to move.

Bear crouched beside the bed, his presence a heavy force of authority and patience, an impossible contradiction. "You eat," he said, voice softer now but still unyielding, "because your body needs it. Because starving yourself gives those bastards another victory, and I don’t lose to men like that."

Meri swallowed hard, nails digging into her thighs. "That’s easy for you to say. You weren’t there."

Bear’s eyes flickered with something dangerous, something dark and knowing. "No," he agreed. "I wasn’t. But I’ve pulled enough people out of hell to know that if you let it, it will follow you and never let you go. I don’t intend to let that happen."

Her breath came too fast, too uneven. She wanted to fight him. To tell him he didn’t know her, didn’t understand whatshe’d been through, didn’t have the right to tell her what she needed.

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