Sebastian Blake –
The house is quiet at 6 AM.
I've already read three reports, called my South Korea contact, and shut down a cargo delay on the east docks. I should keep working.
But I keep glancing down the hall.
Her door.
Still closed.
I walk toward it before I let myself think too hard.
The guards stationed on her floor straighten when they see me. I wave them off. Slowly twist the knob.
It's not locked.
I step inside.
The lights are off, but soft morning rays filter through the cream curtains. She's still curled up in the bed—my jacket bunched around her shoulders like armor. Her long black hair spills across the pillow, tangled but clean now.
She didn't even take it off.
Didn't trust the comfort.
Didn't trust me.
I should leave. Let her rest.
But I don't.
I just stand there for a minute—watching her chest rise and fall, soft and even.
Then she stirs.
Eyes flutter open. Brown. Wide.
She sees me—and everything shatters.
She bolts upright so fast it nearly knocks her over. The blanket falls. Her arms go up.
"No—no, I'm sorry!" she blurts, voice raw. "I'm sorry I'll be good I swear just don't touch me I didn't mean to—please—!"
She flinches, shrinking back like she's used to being hit for waking up wrong.
I don't move.
Not an inch.
My jaw clenches. I force my voice low. Calm. "Ray."
She doesn't hear me.
She's gasping now, still stuck in whatever hell she lived in before I bought her out of it.
"Ray," I say again, softer. "I'm not going to touch you."
Her eyes flicker.
Still panicked. Still not sure.
"I won't hurt you. Not now. Not ever."
Her lip trembles.
And then something even worse happens.
She nods like she wants to believe me—but doesn't dare to.
That moment stays with me as I quietly back away, gently closing the door behind me.
There are monsters in this world.
And I've spent a lifetime being called one.
But I swear to God—I'll burn every single one who made her like this.