Page 19 of Second Sin

"It's not a big deal?—"

"Tell me anyways."

There’s no heat in his voice now—just steel. The kind that doesn’t budge. I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the way his feet are planted like he’s ready to stand there all damn day if that’s what it takes.

I let out a long, shaky breath, full of resignation.

“I was mugged,” I say, barely above a whisper.

“Mugged?” His left eye twitches. He blinks once, slow—like he’s giving the word time to land, to settle, to see if it feels like a lie.

“Yes, mugged."My voice is steadier than I feel."Just outside my place. Two guys—young, I think. I don’t know.” I shake my head. “One grabbed my purse. The other hit me. I think…I think the sidewalk did more damage than he did.”

“You go to the police?”

I nod once, slow.

“What’d they say?”

“That they’ll do what they can.” I shrug. “Which means probably nothing.”

His nostrils flare. A muscle jumps in his jaw.

The silence that follows isn’t quiet. It’s full of tension. His jaw flexes once, then again. Hands fisted at his sides, like he's holding something back. His eyes stay locked on mine, too intense, too still, and the weight of it coils in my chest, sharp and breathless.

"It's not a big deal," I say, even though the words taste like a lie.

“It is a big fucking deal.” His voice is rough, controlled—but only just. “You could’ve been seriously hurt. Or worse. Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing.”

His words knock something loose.

And for the first time in days, everything I’ve been shoving down—grief, fear, rage—surges up all at once, crashing against my ribs like a wave I can’t hold back.

I blink hard, but it’s no use.

One tear slips free. Just one.

It trails down my cheek before I can stop it, hot and uninvited.

He mutters something under his breath—sharp and ragged. Just one word.

“Fuck.”

And then he’s moving.

Two steps and he’s in front of me, closing the space like it’s nothing.

One arm comes around my shoulders, the other across my back, pulling me in tight. No space left between us.

I don’t resist.

Can’t.

My body folds into his, swallowed by warmth and steadiness. Every inch of him radiates heat and something else beneath it. Not lust. Not exactly.

But it’s not nothing either.

He doesn't speak. Just holds me tighter when my breath hitches and my hand fists in the fabric of his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me standing.

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