The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting soft shadows over the small room. Nicholas hadn't moved from the chair all night. His back ached, neck stiff, but he ignored it. Every few minutes he checked her breathing, his fingers brushing her wrist as if to confirm she was still there, still alive.
Ella stirred beneath the covers.
It started small—a twitch of her fingers, the flutter of her lashes. But then she let out a soft whimper, and Nicholas was on his feet in an instant.
"Ella," he murmured, bending over her. "It's okay. You're safe. I've got you."
She turned her face toward his voice, wincing at the pain.
"Where…?" Her voice cracked. "Where am I?"
"With me," he said gently. "You're safe now."
Her brows furrowed. "Ryan—"
"Gone," Nicholas said sharply, his jaw clenching. "He's not touching you again."
She blinked up at him, confused, disoriented. Her eyes were swollen, one still bruised where Ryan's fist had caught her.
Nicholas sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her.
"You collapsed last night. I heard you—" His voice caught, and for a second, he didn't speak. "I came back to check on you. Something didn't feel right. I heard your cries from outside."
He hadn't meant to admit that part. It made him sound… obsessive. But he didn't care.
She stared at him, her lips trembling. "You heard me?"
Nicholas gave a small nod, eyes dark with fury and something else—something that softened when he looked at her.
"I broke the door down. You were on the floor… bleeding." His voice dropped, low and dangerous. "If you hadn't been there, I would've killed him."
She flinched at that, and he immediately softened his tone.
"But I didn't. Because you needed me more."
She looked down at the blanket tucked around her, shame beginning to creep into her expression. "I didn't want you to see me like that."
"Like what?" Nicholas asked, his voice low. "Like someone who's been surviving hell on her own for too long?"
Her breath hitched, and her eyes welled up.
"You think less of me now, don't you?" she whispered.
He leaned in, cupping her face with a tenderness that stunned her.
"I think you're the strongest person I've ever met."
A tear slipped down her cheek. Nicholas wiped it away with his thumb, his other hand brushing the hair from her face.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Ella. Nothing. The bastard who touched you is the only one to blame."
She swallowed hard, nodding slowly. But her eyes were still uncertain.
"I was going to leave him," she whispered. "But I didn't have anywhere to go."
"You do now," he said firmly. "With me."
Her gaze flicked to his.
"You don't even know me."
He didn't answer that. Not directly. He just reached out and took her hand.
"I know enough. I know the way you hide your pain behind silence. I know the way you flinch when someone raises their voice. I know you'd rather starve than ask for help."
He paused.
"I know the way you look at me like I'm something you're not allowed to want."
Her lips parted slightly, but she didn't speak.
Nicholas leaned in just a little closer.
"You're allowed to want me, Ella."
Her cheeks colored, even through the bruises. But she didn't pull away.
He brushed a soft kiss against her knuckles, slow and reverent, before lowering her hand again.
"You'll stay with me until you're better," he said, voice resolute. "And even then, I'm not letting you go unless you make me."
She didn't argue.
She couldn't.
Because somewhere inside, beneath all the pain and fear, part of her wanted exactly that.
Safety. Warmth. Nicholas.
After a long silence, she said quietly, "He'll come looking for me."
Nicholas's expression turned cold, deadly.
"Let him."
She shivered—not in fear of Nicholas, but in response to the sheer power in his words.
"I'm going to bury him, Ella. Legally, financially… I'll make sure he's never able to touch anyone else again."
"But—" She hesitated. "Won't that cause trouble for you?"
Nicholas gave a sharp, humorless smile.
"I am the trouble, sweetheart."
Something about the way he said it made her lips twitch, just barely.
He stood then and adjusted the blankets around her. "Rest now. I'll have food brought up in a bit. The doctor said you need fluids."
Ella blinked. "Doctor?"
"Private one. He's good. He saw to your injuries last night while you slept."
She looked down at her hands, then at the room. "This isn't your house, is it?"
"No," Nicholas admitted. "It's a place I keep for emergencies."
She raised a brow at that.
He smirked faintly. "Not all my emergencies look like you, though."
Despite the pain, despite the fog in her brain, Ella let out a faint laugh — more breath than sound, but it was there. The first in a long time.
Nicholas smiled softly.
"Get some sleep. I'll be right outside."
He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.
"Nicholas?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He held her gaze for a moment — then gave her a nod that said everything he couldn't yet say out loud.
Then he stepped out into the hallway, his expression hardening the moment the door shut behind him.
Now that she was safe… it was time to destroy the man who hurt her.