Page 197 of Hymns of the Broken

Ash pops the tab on a new soda. “Nobody’s calling the cops. Dex and Milo got it covered. Place is locked up tighter than a nun on Sunday.”

Macee eyes me, sharp and unblinking. “You alright, Riot?”

I pause, swallowing the bite of pizza as the noise of the kitchen fades out. I shrug. “Been better, been worse.Ijustwanna get back upstairs.Sheneeds me.”

Macee nods, all the hard edges gone from her face. “Then go. We’ll keep the circus down here.”

Jace bumps my shoulder as I pass. “We’ve got her back, too. Don’t forget that.”

Ash grins. “And hey—if you want me to scare Blake a little, just say the word. I do a killer Hannibal Lecter impression.”

I bark out a laugh despite myself, dropping the crust in the trash. “Maybe later, man. Maybe later.”

And then I’m heading for the stairs—my mind calming as I head back to her, to warmth, to the only thing that matters after a night this dark.

The stairs creak under my boots as I head up, cold pizza and adrenaline still buzzing through my veins. I rub at my jaw, knuckles stained from earlier, the echo of Blake’s screams still ringing in my ears. I can’t shake the way my hands still want to hurt something.

But when I push the door open, everything slows.

Sawyer is curled up in the bed, all tangled up in Jasper’s arms—her face tucked into his chest, his hand spread wide and heavy on her back, holding her close. Her hair’s a mess, mouth parted in sleep, cheeks blotchy but soft now. Safe.

Jasper’s awake.

His eyes meet mine across the darkened room. There’s no challenge in them, just a shared understanding. An understanding that we’re both still bleeding in our own ways, but for Sawyer, we’ll hold it together.

He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over her side, like he’s reminding himself she’s real, that she’s here with us.

I drop myjacket on the chair, running a hand through my hair as I just stand there watching the rise and fall of her breathing, letting it ground me. I want to crawl in, wrap myself around her, let the nightmares go for one goddamn minute. But I hang back, caught on the edge, letting Jasper have this moment.

He mouths something I barely catch.

She needs you, too.

My throat tightens as I move to the bed, carefully, easing down on the other side. Sawyer shifts, rolling toward me in her dreams—her hand reaching out, fingers curling in the air until they find mine. She doesn’t even wake up.

Jasper shifts closer, our knees almost touching, and his voice is low when he finally speaks.

“How are you holding up?”

“Honestly?” I sigh as I hold her a little tighter, still careful not to wake her. “It’s been hell. I’ve been struggling, man. Not just with everything that happened… but with the waiting. Not knowing if we’d ever get her back.” My voice thins out. “But it’s better now. She’s here. She’s safe. That’s all I need.”

It’s the truth, but it’s not all of it.

Because being safe and being okay aren’t the same thing. And just because she’s here, doesn’t mean she’s whole. Doesn’t mean we are either.

He nods, silent for a beat, eyes dropping to Sawyer’s face like it hurts to look at her and not touch her more than he already is. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I get that.”

God, I missed this. The way she pulls us in without even trying. The way she makes me feel like I’m not too much, not too broken to hold onto.

The quiet wraps around us. No jokes. No posturing. Just understanding.

“She’s the strongest person I’ve ever met,” Jasper says. “But she shouldn’t have to be strong all the time.”

“No,” I agree. “Not with us here.”

I didn’t think I’d survive losing her. And I didn’t know if I could share her. But now? Now it doesn’t feel like sharing. It feels like protecting. Like we’re a shield—both of us—wrapped around something fragile and beautiful and fucking essential.

We settleinto the silence again, not sleeping, just existing in the same space with the girl we’d tear the world apart for.