<h4>Chapter 110: SAFE</h4>


    <strong>BLAZE POV </strong>


    She still wasn’t saying anything, and the silence stretched—tense, heavy, broken only by the sound of her soft, staggered breaths. My mes were still simmering under the surface, not from rage this time, but from restraint. I wanted to reach for her so badly it hurt, but I knew I couldn’t force that. Not now. Not after what she’d seen.


    Not after her <i>eyes met mine in that dream</i> and she looked at me like I was the devil himself.


    "re..." I said her name like a prayer and a plea.


    She flinched again.


    I fucking <i>hated</i> that.


    I drew a deep breath and let it out slow, softening my tone like I was coaxing a frightened animal—because that’s what she looked like now. A cornered thing, covered in invisible bruises and haunted by ghosts with fangs.


    "I’m not here to hurt you," I said again, steady and low. "I’m here to keep you safe. I should’ve never left. That’s on me. But I’m here now. And I swear on every drop of blood in my body, nothing like that will happen again."


    Her arms were still wrapped tightly around her knees, but her head turned slightly—like she was listening. Like part of her wanted to believe me.


    That was all I needed.


    "I know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning in a nightmare. Like nothing is real, but everything hurts anyway," I whispered, eyes never leaving her. "But you’re awake now, re. You’re safe. No one’s going to touch you again. No one’s going toy a single finger on you unless you want them to."


    Her breathing slowed, just a little.


    "You said it yourself," I went on. "You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine."


    There. A twitch at the corner of her mouth—just the ghost of a response. That spark in her that hadn’t been fully extinguished. The fighter in her was still alive. Bruised, shaken, but still breathing.


    I inched closer—not touching, not yet—just enough to close the gap between us in spirit, if not in skin.


    "Let me help you," I murmured. "You don’t have to be afraid of me. I know I’m not... I know I’m not soft, re. I’m not the type to offer flowers and empty promises. But I’ll burn this world to the ground before I let anyoney a hand on you again."


    Finally, finally, she looked at me.


    Really looked at me.


    Her eyes were ssy with tears, rimmed red, but there was rity there now. Recognition. A breath shuddered out of her chest, and she spoke—hoarse, cracked.


    "I... I don’t want to be here."


    My heart twisted. "Where do you want to go?"


    "My apartment," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Please. I can’t... I can’t stay in this cursed pce. Every shadow feels like it’s watching me. Every hallway smells like blood."


    I didn’t hesitate.


    "Done."


    Her lips parted, surprised. "What?"


    "I’ll take you back. Tonight, if that’s what you want."


    She blinked. "But your father—"


    "Can choke on his own authority," I snarled. "You’re not his prisoner. And no one, <i>no one</i>, tells me what to do with my mate."


    Her lips quivered. I didn’t know if it was a threat of a sob or augh.


    "I’m serious," I said more gently. "If you want to leave, you leave. I’ll get you there, and no one’s going to stop us. You’re not locked in here, re. You never were."


    She stared at me for a long moment, like she couldn’t believe I meant it. And maybe a part of her didn’t. Maybe the pce, the trauma, the chains she wore in her mind were heavier than the promise of freedom.


    But then, slowly... she nodded.


    A small, tremulous nod—but enough.


    Her shoulders dropped, just a bit. Her body loosened its coiled tension. And without a word, she moved—just a little—toward me.


    I stayedpletely still.


    She reached out.


    And her fingers touched mine.


    That simple contact? It sent something wild roaring inside me. Not lust. Not fury.


    <i>Relief.</i>


    She didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Her hand just curled around mine, soft and trembling.


    "I want to go," she whispered. "Now."


    I rose to my feet, never breaking the contact. "Then we go."


    She stood, unsteady, and I caught her gently—not holding, not trapping. Just support.


    We walked out of that cursed room together, and I made damn sure every vampire we passed lowered their gaze. The heat rolling off me was warning enough. <i>She’s off limits.</i> Touch her again, and <i>you won’t live to regret it.</i>


    As the pce doors opened, I turned to re, brushing a strand of hair from her face.


    "Back to your apartment," I promised. "Back to safety."


    But in the pit of my soul, something stirred.


    Because I knew this wasn’t over.


    They hurt her. They <i>dared</i> to touch her.


    And the fire that wasing for them?


    Had only just begun to burn.


    <strong>CLARE – POV</strong>


    I’ve never been so scared in my life. And that’s saying a lot, considering everything I’ve already been through.


    Even if it was just a nightmare... it didn’t feel like one.


    No, this one felt real. Too real.


    Watching rk—my twin, my other half—being shredded to pieces in front of me wasn’t just terrifying. It was soul-breaking. It did something to me. Something I wasn’t sure could be undone. The horror of that feast, the twisted, grotesqueughter, the blood, the fire... it cracked something in me.


    <fnb3a2> N?w ?ovel chapt?rs are published on ?ovelFind</fnb3a2>


    I don’t think I’ve ever felt so powerless. So lost.


    That dream wasn’t just a bad night terror. It was a message—a cruel reminder of the nightmare I’m now living in. This world of bloodsuckers, shapeshifters, and monsters who look like gods but act like devils—it was nothing like the cheesy horror movies I used tough through with rk.


    This? This was a horror movie that didn’t end when the credits rolled.


    What scared me more than anything, though, was what that nightmare might <i>really</i> mean. What if that was how it actually happened? What if that was how rk died? Torn to shreds. Alone. Telling me to run. That line—**"You shouldn’t havee"—**echoed in my ears even now. A warning? A curse? Or just guilt in the form of a hallucination?


    Gods help me.


    I didn’t even realize I was crying again until ze’s voice cut through the haze. Gentle, quiet, coaxing. Like I was some fragile kitten he didn’t want to spook. He was murmuring words—something about safety, about being okay.


    But he didn’t get it.


    There was no such thing as "safe" anymore. Not for people like me. Not after what I’d seen.


    I didn’t know whether I could trust him. Notpletely. Not yet. But in that moment, with my hands shaking and my body feeling like it had been run through a blender of fear and despair, I knew one thing:


    I couldn’t stay here.


    Not in this pce. Not in the same building that housed <i>them</i>. The redheads. The blonde. His cold, cruel father. The scent of burnt flesh and terror was soaked into the walls. It was in the air I breathed. It clung to me like smoke.


    "I want to go back," I whispered. "To my apartment."


    And he didn’t argue. He didn’t even hesitate.


    Just gave me a look—a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes—and nodded once.


    The moment he agreed, I didn’t want to spend another minute in this ce. I didn’t even argue when he offered to carry me. My legs were shaky, my head was spinning, and all I wanted was to be away.


    So yes, I let him carry me.


    He crouched, offering his back like it was the most natural thing in the world. And I—too tired to care about pride or appearances—climbed on. I wrapped my arms loosely around his neck, my cheek resting against the back of his shoulder as he rose to his full height.


    Then he moved.


    No, <i>zoomed</i>.


    The halls blurred past us, the cool rush of air sweeping through my hair like I was flying. He moved with inhuman speed, his footfalls barely making a sound. Each time we turned a corner or passed through one of the pce’s eerie corridors, I squeezed my eyes shut.


    I didn’t want to see <i>them</i>. Not by ident. Not even for a second.


    I couldn’t risk catching a glimpse of Thelia, or Lucas, or Marcus. I didn’t want to lock eyes with that cold, calcting father of his. I was hanging on by a thread, and one more sh of those monsters might break it for good.


    So I kept my eyes closed. Focused on the warmth of ze’s body, the steady movement, the silence between us. I don’t know how long it took, but eventually, I felt the shift in the air. The change in atmosphere.


    We were getting farther from the pce. From <i>them</i>.


    And for the first time since waking up screaming, I started to breathe again.


    Just a little.