Page 98 of Blind Justice

He knew she had found it.

She had found him.

When he lay beside her, when he held her with a reverence he had never felt for anyone else, he did it with patience, with devotion, with love.

Because she wasn’t broken.

She was his.

And no matter what happened next, no matter how dark the world stayed, he would always be her light.

* * *

The morning airwas cool and damp, the scent of earth and thawing winter creeping in through the cracked window. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space between them, steady and unbroken, just like the rhythmic crunch of tires against wet pavement.

Ruth sat beside Noah in the back seat, her fingers resting lightly on his forearm. She wasn’t holding on tightly—just enough to feel him there. Just enough to keep herself anchored.

She had never been so aware of her blindness as she was now. Each turn, each shift of the road beneath them felt strange, disorienting. She had always read the world through her eyes, and now she was left to feel it instead. How do you adjust to losing a sense that defined so much of who you were?

She swallowed hard, tilting her head toward him. “Tell me what it looks like.”

Noah was silent for a second, then she felt him shift slightly, his voice low and steady. “The trees are still bare from winter, but you can see the first signs of spring. The grass is waking up—patches of green starting to push through the frost. The sky is gray, but the clouds are thin, letting in streaks of sunlight. It’s that in-between time—cold, but you can tell warmer days are coming.”

Her lips curved into a small smile. “Sounds peaceful.”

“It is.”

But even as he said it, she felt the tension settling over them again. The closer they got to Waverly County, the more she felt it pressing in. She could feel Noah’s tension too—the way his muscles tightened slightly beneath her fingers.

Coming home should feel safe. So why did she feel like she was about to step into the unknown? Her fingers twisted together in her lap, the restlessness inside her growing. And then—a warm, solid hand slid over hers, threading their fingers together.Noah.

His voice was low, meant only for her. “You’re not alone.”

Her throat tightened. No, she wasn’t.

She nodded, unable to speak, but she squeezed his hand just the same.

“We’re at the main gate to the Institute.” The car slowed, tires crunching over gravel as they turned onto the long, winding driveway leading to Blackwell Institute. A place of safety. A place where she could heal. Or at least that was what everyone told her.

The moment the car stopped, voices crashed over her like a wave. “Ruth!” Sophie’s voice cracked with emotion, thick with relief and something else Ruth couldn’t name.

Then, warm hands were on her face, trembling as they pulled her in. Her mom. “Oh, baby.” Her mother’s touch was familiar, grounding, but Ruth couldn’t stop the flinch, the way her body braced for impact before she even knew what was happening. Her mom must have felt it too because she pulled her in gently, her arms careful, trembling.

Ruth felt herself pulled from one embrace to another—Brad, Alex, Ethan, Tristan, James.

She may not have been able to see them, but she could feel them.

* * *

The heavy doorto the study clicked shut behind Noah as he followed Ethan, Brad and Alex inside. The room was dimly lit, the fire in the grand stone fireplace casting flickering shadows against the dark mahogany walls lined with towering bookshelves. A faint scent of aged whiskey and fresh coffee lingered in the air, but no one moved toward the decanter on the side table. This wasn’t a meeting for drinks.

Tristan, James, and Paul were already seated, their expressions grave. Noah, Brad, Ethan, and Alex took the remaining seats, tension thick in the space around them.

Tristan, ever the composed one, leaned forward, his hands folded together. “Let’s get straight to it,” he said. “We agree with Paul, physically, Ruth is stabilizing. Her vitals are strong, her body is healing, and her strength is slowly improving. But she’s exhausted. Her body is still in recovery mode.”

“Damn good call, Paul.” James had said it himself: finding the anticoagulant saved her life.

“I’ll hand-deliver it to the lab. See if we can find a fingerprint.” Brad shook his head.

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