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Noah dropped his head into his hands. “I need to break it to Rae.”

The men in the room gave him a sympathetic look.

Brad exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Then we have two objectives. First, we take down Fairchild. Completely. We cut off the head of the snake. Second, we protect Ruth—because whatever scared her into the dark hasn’t gone away.”

Noah’s hands were clenched so tightly, his knuckles were white. Fairchild was still out there. His men were still out there.

But more than anything, Noah feared the moment Ruth’s mind broke open—when the memories rushed back, dragging her into whatever nightmare she saw that night.

Because once she remembered, nothing would ever be the same again.

* * *

The moment Ruthstepped into Sophie and Tristan’s home, warmth enveloped her. It wasn’t just the soft heat that chased away the lingering chill from their drive. It was the definition of home—the feeling of being surrounded by love, by family, by people who refused to let her break.

The scent of Sophie, vanilla and faint traces of lavender, drifted through the air, mingling with the crackle of a fireplace burning somewhere nearby. Plush carpeting softened her steps as Sophie and Charlotte guided her gently, one on each side, their hands firm but careful. She couldn’t see the grandness of the house, but she could feel it, remember it—the way the space breathed, open and luxurious, but still personal.

Her fingers brushed against cool marble as they walked, then warm wood as they turned a corner. Her mother gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Almost there, sweetheart.”

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Behind her, Noah, Paul, Tristan, and James murmured in low voices as they moved toward the study. Their conversation was important, about her and what came next, but right now, all she could focus on was the exhaustion holding her down like lead.

Sophie opened a door, and they led her inside a room where the air smelled crisp, like freshly laundered sheets. “It’s the guest room across from the master bedroom. You’re safe here.”

They sat her carefully on the edge of the bed. Charlotte knelt in front of her, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face. “Let’s get you cleaned up, honey. Then you can sleep, alright?”

Ruth barely had the strength to nod. They moved around her with quiet efficiency. She didn’t fight them when they helped her out of her travel clothes, replacing them with something soft and comforting. She didn’t flinch when they guided her to the adjoining bathroom, where warm water and the familiar scent of her sister’s favorite soap enveloped her.

She let them do it all—didn’t argue, didn’t insist she could manage alone. Because she couldn’t. And she didn’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.

By the time they helped her back into bed, exhaustion had fully taken hold. She sank into the mattress, feeling the plush blankets surround her. The pillow cradled her head, and she exhaled, the tension in her body finally giving way to something softer.

Charlotte pulled the blankets up around her, tucking them in like she used to when Ruth was a child. She pressed a kiss to her forehead, whispering, “Rest, baby.”

Sophie smoothed her hand over Ruth’s hair. “We have a monitor, so call out if you need us.”

Ruth’s throat tightened, but she managed to whisper, “Thank you.” She heard the door click shut, the sound too final, too empty. And suddenly—she missed Noah.

It didn’t make sense. He was just downstairs. But now—now she felt the distance between them like an ache. Her fingers curled into the blanket, gripping fabric instead of him.

They had made love before they left the safehouse. The memory of his hands on her skin, the way he touched her like she was whole, like she was still Ruth even without her sight, settled deep inside her.

He said he loved her.

She had believed it. Felt it. But would it hold true here? Back at home, when life moved fast again, when work pulled him away, when she wasn’t just the fragile, broken woman he had been protecting?

Would he still love her then?

Doubt crept in, curling around her thoughts, squeezing tight.

She loved him too. That was the one thing she was sure of. But was love enough when everything else had changed?

Thirty-Seven

Ruth turned over, feeling the smooth sheets beneath her fingertips. The darkness was nothing new. She had lived in it for a while now, but tonight, something felt different. Beyond her blindness, she had lost her sense of time, and for a brief moment, even place. She exhaled slowly, disoriented, her mind grasping for familiarity.

She forced herself upright, blinking uselessly against the void. A dull pressure in her lower abdomen reminded her of her body’s needs, pulling her into full wakefulness.