Page 287 of His To Erase

His hands find my face again, steadying me. “You’re it for me,” he says, quieter now, but no less dangerous. “I don’t care what we have to burn. I’ll build a kingdom out of the ashes if that’s what it takes to keep you.”

And I believe him.

Ani

Idon’t remember much of the flight back. My mind was still trying to catch up to the fact that I was alive, and Frank was gone. That the war—at least this part of it—was over. I’ve replayed the last few days over and over in my mind so many times it’s probably unhealthy.

Steven’s lap wasn’t exactly comfortable because every time the plane jolted, my ribs lit up like someone had punched me again. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking unless his were on top of them, and even then, I could still feel the tremor, buried deep under my skin. But, it was better than the cold leather seats, and I wasn’t moving.

Steven hadn’t let me go since he found me in that room. I don’t remember how long we stayed talking after he told me he loved me. It was long enough to realize we were suddenly alone and when we finally stepped out, everything looked the same, but it wasn’t.

One of the guys Steven came with brought in a doctor. Some mystery man in scrubs with a black bag like we were in some back-alley mafia clinic.

He didn’t say much, just started checking me over. I didn’t argue. Didn’t really have it in me.

Steven stood off to the side with his arms crossed, tracking every movement like he didn’t trust anyone to breathe near me, let alone touch me. Which honestly, not the worst energy to have in the room when you’re half-naked and bruised with a stranger stitching your face.

Nothing was broken—just bruises, cuts, and a lot of swelling. The doctor cleaned everything, bandaged me up, and walked out like I was already yesterday’s problem.

We found Sloane—Lauren—whatever—halfway to the front door with a torn duffel bag and mascara streaked halfway down her face. She was sobbing and throwing things into a pile.

The shouting started almost immediately.

Steven was cold and furious, acting like he was trying not to lose it, and she screamed right back, saying things I didn’t understand, and a few I did. Things about Frank, about the lies, about Kody, and all the ways she tried to protect the people she loved and all the ways it backfired. But in the end, Steven told her she was getting on the plane. And now— Here we are.

They’ve been talking the whole time, and I’ve only caught fragments of their conversation while I’ve been in and out of sleep. Just enough to thread together pieces of the story I didn’t know I was missing.

She didn’t meet Frank. Not really. He found her and raised her as his own, teaching her how to survive. But what he really did was—shape her into something useful, obedient, and dangerous.

She met Steven years later. He was seventeen—pissed off, and already halfway gone. Frank gave him a roof, a job, and abed to crash in between bruises. Together, they figured it out from there. How to kill, how to lie, and how to hold on to each other when nobody else gave a shit.

When Steven asked her about the baby, she said it happened after a job. She’d come back to the house exhausted, and wanted to forget everything, just for one night. Steven was out on his own job, so he wasn’t home. She’d been drinking when Frank showed up like he always did—uninvited, already drunk and already angry. But by the time she realized what was happening, it was already over. And a few weeks later… she found out she was pregnant.

When Frank found out, he locked her away, threatened her, and told her if she ever stepped out of line, she’d never see her son again. He’s five now. He loves dinosaurs. Eats chicken nuggets like it’s a food group, and refuses to brush his teeth without a fight.

She said she tried to run once. Frank showed her a photo of a body and told her it was Kody’s. She didn’t try again.

When the plane touches down, the night air feels heavier than it should—thick with all the shit we didn’t say. Sloane walks toward a black car waiting near the curb, pulling the door open. She pauses, looking at me, then glances at Steven. “I’ll come by in a few days,” she says. “We’ve still got shit to deal with.”

She nods to the driver. “Take me to the house.”

Steven just nods, watching her go. And then she’s gone—disappearing into the dark.

Without a word, he walks to our car, opening my door while I slide in, and he gets in behind me. The second I lean into him, he pulls me straight onto his lap. His arms wrap around me, and he buries his face in my neck, dragging in a slow breath. There are so many things I want to say, but I have no idea where to start.

Thank you? I love you? I know the world’s on fire and I’m still bleeding, but if you so much as move your hand an inchlower, I swear I’m going to grind down on you and make everything a hell of a lot worse?

He’s hard—pressed up against me like it doesn’t matter that I’m still bruised and shaking. I know I shouldn’t want it. Not right now. But I do. I want him so badly it hurts in a different place.

We pull into his driveway just after midnight. The porch lights are already on and Bern explodes out the front door before the car even fully stops. Her paws skid across the gravel, and for a second, I forget how much pain I’m in—right up until my leg gives out as I step out of the car.

She launches herself at me, and I drop to my knees. My face disappears into her fur, and just like that, I forget how to breathe.

“Hey, girl,” I whisper, my voice already breaking. “You missed me, huh?”

I tried not to let myself think about her while I was gone. She’s freaking out like it’s just another day, and I didn’t go missing. Somehow, that’s what finally undoes me. “I missed you too,” I breathe into her neck. “So much.”

Steven doesn’t say a word. He just stands a few feet back, watching—like he knows I need this and he’s not going to take it from me.