Page 53 of Fear

Sofia lay against Goliath’s chest as the truck sped away from the warehouse. Every bump in the road had him adjusting his hold on her,cradling her like she’d break if he let go. But she didn’t want distance. She never wanted distance from him again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered after a long stretch of quiet. Goliath leaned down, forehead pressing gently to hers. “Don’t,” he breathed. “Don’t apologize. Not for surviving.” Her fingers curled weakly into the collar of his shirt.

The other truck followed close behind, filled with the wounded, bloodied, captured men. But their priority was already shifting.

The trucks rolled into the clubhouse lot just before sunrise. The sky was tinged with that early golden hue, like the world was trying to pretend nothing had happened. That blood hadn't been spilled, that a mate hadn’t been taken and bruised, but the men, they knew better.

The prospects scrambled out first, clearing a path to the medical room. Diesel had it prepped, supplies were ready, bandages open, adrenaline already surging through his system as he took one look at Sofia’s condition.

“Lay her down, gently,” he said.

Goliath didn’t let go. “I said gently,” Diesel added with a look. Reluctantly, Goliath settled Sofia onto the table, his hand never leaving hers. She winced slightly as Diesel checked her ribs, lifted her shirt just enough to examine the dark bruising.

“Nothing broken,” Diesel said. “But she needs rest, lots of fluids. And she needs you to calm the fuck down before your blood pressure explodes through the roof.” Goliath didn’t answer, he just leaned down and kissed her temple.

“I’m not leaving this room,” he warned, and no one doubted him.

Later that morning, when the women returned from the safehouse and word reached them that Sofia had been found, Alaska was the first through the door. She didn’t speak, she just wrapped Sofia in her arms and cried into her shoulder.

The others followed…Siena, Dakota, Onix, even the newer ones who barely knew her, because what happened to Sofia had happened to all of them, in some way.

You take one of them, you take them all. They took turns cleaning her up, brushing the dried blood from her hair, tending to her wrists, changing her clothes, holding her hand. And through it all, Goliath stayed close. He was silent always watchful. Like the only thing keeping him alive was the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Sofia’s recovery was slow, each day blurred into the next, a quiet rhythm of rest, warmth, and whispered reassurances. The swelling in her face began to fade, the bruises on her ribs turning from deep purple to a dull yellow. Her voice, once raw and hoarse, had begun to return—soft at first, but stronger each time she said his name.

Goliath never left her side. He sat at the edge of the bed or in the chair nearby, always within reach. If she stirred, he was there. If she winced, he was up like a shot, heart in his throat, ready to do anything—anything—to take the pain from her and make it his own.

But he couldn’t, and it tore him apart. He tried not to show it, tried to be steady, strong. The wall she needed to lean on, but inside, he was drowning.

Every bruise on her skin was another place he’d failed to shield her. Every wince, every slow breath, every restless night was a reminder that he hadn’t gotten to her fast enough.

The Nightmare hit on the third night. Sofia had finally fallen into a deep sleep, curled into Goliath’s chest, one hand fisted in the fabric of his shirt like she still needed to make sure he was real. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her close, his head bowed to her hair. He had just started to drift when she jolted awake with a choked cry.

“No…don’t touch me!” Goliath’s heart stopped. He sat up instantly, catching her wrists as she flailed, trying to fight something that wasn’t there. Her eyes were wide open but unfocused, her whole-body trembling.

“Sofia,” he whispered, holding her gently, not restraining—just grounding. “Baby, it’s me. You’re safe. I’m here.” Her breath came in ragged gasps, tears running down her face, her body shaking against him.

He pulled her onto his lap, rocked her back and forth, murmuring softly into her hair.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered over and over. “I’ve got you. No one’s ever going to touch you again.” Slowly, her breathing calmed, the panic melted away, she sagged against him, eyes fluttering closed once more.

But even after she’d drifted back to sleep, her fingers never let go of his shirt. Goliath stayed awake, and he burned. His jaw clenched so hard it ached. His chest heaved with silent fury.

She was safe in his arms now, but the memory of that scream, of the fear in her voice…it seared itself into his skull. Jason Rodes had done that, he had put fear in her bones. Left bruises on her soul. And he was still breathing.

That couldn’t continue. Goliath’s hands curled into fists, his claws itching beneath the surface of his skin. His wolf wanted blood, wanted to hunt, rip, end. And it would.

He looked down at Sofia, curled into him, peaceful again—for now. He made a silent vow. The next time he touched Jason Rodes, it would be the last.

The sun was low in the sky, casting long, golden bars of light across the wooden floor of the bedroom. Outside, the club grounds had gone still for the first time in days. Inside, it was quiet—the kind of silence that carried weight.

Sofia sat on the bed, propped against the pillows, a blanket draped around her shoulders. Her hair was clean now, her face washed, the worst of the swelling faded—but there was something in her eyes that hadn’t gone away. A quiet storm. A weight that hadn’t lifted.

Goliath sat in the chair beside her. Still close, but not crowding. Watching her, waiting.

She looked at him then, eyes finding his. “I need to tell you.” He didn’t speak. Just nodded once, steady, like whatever she needed to give him, he could carry it. Her fingers twisted the edge of the blanket. She didn’t meet his eyes at first.

“They took me to this second place... smaller, there were no windows. The first time, I tried to run, I got out and I made it to the trees.” She stopped, her voice catching. Goliath’s fists curled against his thighs.

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