No tightness in my chest. No scraping through my lungs. No screaming silence in my ears. Not even when Jaxson said Alex was still a threat.
Maybe it was the pain meds.
Or maybe, the panic died with Bruce.
The day I stopped being scared of men who dangled my life like it was theirs to control.
Maybe this wasn’t numbness.
Maybe it was clarity.
The door handle turned, then flung open so hard it slammed against the wall. Jaxson barreled into the room like he couldn’t waste another second getting to me. His chest rose and fell in ragged bursts, shirt stained with sweat , hair a chaotic mess like he’d been dragging his hands through it nonstop.
But it was his eyes that caught me.
Wild. Frantic. Scanning the room like he expected to find blood or broken glass. Like something inside him had already accepted the worst and was scrambling to undo it.
And I just watched him.
Still sitting there. Still swaying ever so slightly in that same spot.
He looked like panic. I looked like silence.
But between us, the air cracked with everything we weren’t saying.
He moved to me slowly, like I might break if he came too fast. Then he dropped to his knees in front of me, his hands reaching for mine, his voice soft but laced with urgency.
“We’ll find her. I promise.”
My eyes locked on his. I heard the words. I knew what they meant. But nothing inside me moved to meet them. No tears. No questions. Just more silence.
“Why don’t you lie down for a bit?” he offered gently. “Ben and Nic are coming up. We’re going to start scanning footage, try to figure out where she is.”
Still, I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Jaxson shifted, guiding me back against the couch. He adjusted my legs, his touch careful, like I was glass barely held together. I let him. Not because I trusted him. Not because I needed comfort. But because I didn’t know how to tell my body what to do anymore.
Lying there, I couldn’t sway. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t feel the give of the cushion beneath me or the softness of the throw he pulled up over my lap.
My eyes stayed open, fixed on a spot across the room. One I wasn’t really seeing. Everything felt both far away and too close at the same time. Like sound was muffled, even though I knew people were speaking. Like my thoughts were moving in circles, but not landing anywhere that made sense.
The world kept spinning. But I didn’t. I wasn’t frozen. I wasn’t calm.
I just… wasn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the door open again. Two shapes stepped in—one broad, one smaller—but I didn’t turn my head to look. I just stayed where Jaxson had left me, curled against the couch, eyes glazed over, limbs limp.
They paused near the threshold. I could hear the subtle shift of whatever they were carrying, something crinkling or metallic maybe, but it stayed in my peripheral. Just another piece of a world that didn’t quite feel real.
No one spoke at first. Then Nic’s voice, quiet but urgent, broke the silence.
“Jax… what’s wrong with her?”
“I think she’s in shock,” he said, his voice lower now. Raw.
Silence again.
Then Ben moved, crossing the space between us until he knelt beside the couch. His hand rested on my arm, warm and steady.