Page 65 of Blackwood

He gives the faintest huff of amusement. “So what I’m hearing is, grief but make it runway.”

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Also, quit deflecting.”

I roll my eyes.

“Okay fine, no more dance talk. What was next? You said you saved some kids. That’s good.”

My eyes drift to the window behind him. It’s blue-sky bright outside, but all I see is red. Miami. The blood pooling underneath my little brother’s body. Zeke’s rage. All fucking red.

My fingers move to my wrist like they always do. I start rubbing the inside where the ink lives, tracing each line like itholds me together.Dylan.Same as Zeke’s. Same as it’s always been.

“Bella?” Monroe’s voice is softer now. Careful.

I don’t look at him. My leg’s bouncing. My stomach turns and everything inside me starts to hum.

“He looked just like Dylan,” I finally say, barely above a whisper.

Silence.

“The kid. Ollie.”

I blink fast, trying to shake it, but it’s too late. I’m already there again. Miami. Carlos and Mariela’s bedroom. The scream in my throat that never made it out.

“All I see is Dylan’s little body,” I say, staring straight ahead. “Eyes, open but gone in a pool of red.” My voice snaps off, breath catching. “He didn’t move. His body was so small.”

“Bella,” Monroe says quietly. “Breathe.”

I try. But it’s like there’s glass in my lungs. The kind that cuts going in and out. Where the fuck is Knox when I need him?

He waits. Doesn’t push.

I swallow the burn in my throat. Try again. “I know Ollie’s not him,” I manage. “But I held him and my brain didn’t know the difference. Not right away.”

“You were triggered,” Monroe says, gently now. “That’s not weakness. That’s memory. Remember that trauma doesn’t ask permission.”

I clench my hands into fists but the tremble won’t stop. “He wouldn’t let go of me,” I say. “Just wrapped his arm around my neck. And he didn’t speak until we were already in the ambulance.”

“What did he say?” he asks.

I glance down at my wrist again. My voice breaks on the name. “Just that his name was Ollie.”

“And where is he now?”

“He’s home,” I whisper. “With his real parents. Alyssa tracked them from Santa Monica. He’s safe now.”

Monroe nods. “You helped save him.”

I shake my head. “We did. The team did. It wasn’t just me.”

He watches me for a moment, then says gently, “But you’re the one that Ollie held onto.”

“Next.” I say sharply. “I’m done talking about the mission.”

“Fine. You said you fucked Laing.” He looks up, deadpan. “I’d say I’m shocked, but I’m not, Bella. More… disappointed.”

I shrug, unapologetic. “I’m not. Laing’s great in the sack.”