Page 15 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The door clicks shut behind me, and I jump before realizing it’s Hank. Gabe stands to the side, leaning against the counter. Both of them are calm and watchful, their expressions gentle and nonjudgmental.

“Let us help,” Gabe suggests softly, leaving no room for argument.

I shake my head, overwhelmed. Everything feels like too much. Tears spill over, hot and silent, streaking down my cheeks. “I—I can’t?—”

The weight of my fatigue crashes over me all at once. While I yearn for the comfort of a shower, the thought of undressing and going through the motions feels insurmountable, like climbing a mountain.

“You don’t need to do anything,” Hank says softly, stepping closer. His eyes meet mine, steady and gentle. “We’ll take care of you. Purely professional. Do you trust us?”

Trust? They saved my life.

Twice.

I look between them, my resistance melting under the weight of my exhaustion and their quiet assurance. My hands drop to my sides as I give a slight nod.

“Alright,” I whisper.

Gabe offers a reassuring smile. “We’ve got you.”

They move carefully… so gentle.

Respectful.

Hank reaches for the top button of my grimy shirt while Gabe starts at the bottom. Their fingers work deftly, unfastening each button with deliberate gentleness. The fabric fallsaway slowly, and cool air touches my skin, but there’s no room for embarrassment—only a profound sense of relief.

As they ease the shirt off my shoulders, their eyes remain respectful, focused on the task rather than on me. Hank kneels to untie my worn shoes, sliding them off and setting them aside. Gabe steadies me as I step out of my pants.

“You’re doing great, luv,” Hank murmurs, his voice a comforting rumble.

Gabe nods, his gaze warm. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

Their hands are sure but tender, lifting away the layers of dirt and fatigue that have weighed me down for so long. With each piece of clothing removed, I feel lighter, like they’re not just undressing me but also peeling away the remnants of my ordeal.

Standing there, vulnerable yet unafraid, their overwhelming care overshadows any shame I might have felt. Instead of feeling exposed, I feel sheltered.

Protected.

“In you go,” Hank says quietly.

“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice barely more than a breath.

Gabe meets my eyes, offering a gentle squeeze to my hand. “We’re here if you need help.”

An unexpected warmth blooms within my chest—a sense of being truly seen and cared for. I allow myself to lean on them, trusting their steady presence. My soul feels lighter.

It’s been too long since I’ve been able to say that.

Once again, tears spill down my cheeks, but when the water hits my skin, they wash away.

The heat is startling. It shocks me out of the haze I’ve been trapped in, but only partially—enough to feel the water cascading over my skin, burning away the filth caked into every pore. The chill of the steppe, the stink of dust and ash, the months of grime buried so deep I was convinced it had become a part of me—it all washes away in rivulets that swirl around the drain.

The water stings as it hits raw, chapped skin in places I hadn’t realized were scraped or bruised. A sharp gasp slips from my throat,echoing in the steamy air. My knees buckle slightly. The floor feels slick beneath my feet.

A hand shoots out, firm and grounding, catching my arm before I can stumble.

“Easy.”

Hank’s voice is low, steady, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. He steps in close, eyes locked on mine, not demanding—just offering.

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