Page 185 of Hymns of the Broken

Once he’s finished, he looks up at her—eyes darker, softer. “You good?”

She nods, voice quiet but steady. “Yeah. I am now.”

I turn off the shower, wrapping a towel low on my hips. I meethereyes in the mirror as I step out—just a moment, but it’s enough. She’s still here—still ours.

We shuffle her out of the bathroom, me in nothing but a towel, Jasper still in the same outfit we rescued her in. He probably needs a shower, but I know Sawyer doesn’t want him out of her sight.

I grab the first clean pair of sweats I see and yank them on, but I don’t miss the way Jasper picks through my shirts until he finds the softest, oldest one—the one I stole from merch years ago, the one that smells like every city we’ve ever played. He helps Sawyer into it, tugging it over her head like she’s breakable. I haven’t seen her in one of my shirts before, but now? Fuck, I don’t wanna see her in anything else.

She swaysa little, so I scoop her up and help her into bed, pulling the covers up around her shoulders. Jasper changes quickly, then climbs in on her other side, stretching an arm out behind her like a barrier, like a vow.

The room’s quiet for a while. Just breathing. Just existing.

I can feel her thinking—feel the tension in the way her fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt, the way she stares at the ceiling like she’s waiting for the sky to fall.

I brush my knuckles across her jaw. “What’s goin’ on in that head, Hellcat?”

Jasper and I trade a look.

She looks away, face tight. Embarrassment flickers there, something bruised and young. Her eyes glisten in the low light, and I feel her struggle with every part of me.

Jasper shifts, voice dropping soft and deep. “Sawyer, talk to us. Please.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. She takes a few seconds—seconds that feel like hours—before she whispers, “I’m scared you guys won’t want me anymore. Not after what happened. After what Blake did to me.”

The room freezes.

Jasper sits up, his eyes gone dark and dangerous, but his touch is gentle. “That’s bullshit,” he says, rough around the edges. “Nothing he did can touch what we feel for you. Nothing he did can take away from who you are. You survived. That’s the only thing that matters.”

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, brushing my thumb over her cheek. Her skin is warm and damp, still smelling like my soap. “Youare not broken, Sawyer. Not to us. You’re a fucking miracle. You’re strong. You’re everything.”

Jasper’s hand finds hers, threading their fingers together. “You think we’re gonna run now? After everything?” He leans in, pressing his forehead to her temple, grounding her. “There’s nothing you could do that could scare us off.”

She blinks fast, and a single tear escapes, rolling down her cheek. I catch it before it falls, kissing it away.

“If you wanna cry, cry,” I murmur. “If you wanna scream, scream. You don’t have to hide anything from us. Not ever. We want all of you. Every piece. Every scar.”

She finally meets our eyes, voice trembling. “You promise?”

I squeeze her tighter. Jasper brushes his lips against her hair.

“Swear on my life,” I whisper.

“Swear on mine,” Jasper echoes, fierce as a prayer.

SAWYER

I’m sandwiched between them—safe, warm, their bodies pressed so close that for a second I almost forget the ache inside me. Riot’s shirt drowns me, soft and smelling like him, like smoke and chaos and something dangerous that feels like home. Jasper’s hand is heavy on my side, thumb tracing circles on my hip, trying to anchor me to the present. But my mind won’t stop spinning.

Their words echo in my head—You’re everything.You’re not broken. Nothing he did can change how we see you.—but there’s a wall inside me. Cracked. Splintered and still stained with shame.

Because I know I have to say it. I have to say the ugliest part.

And I don’t know if I’ll survive it.

I’m staring at the ceiling, heart beating so loud it hurts, thinking about every dirty secret I’ve ever kept. All the smutty books I’ve hidden under my mattress, the nights I stayed up imagining what it would be like to be tied up. Teased. Used. Hurt—but only in ways I wanted.

I was always curious. Always drawn to the dark and taboo. I thought it meant I was broken or weird, but I never cared—not really. Not until now.