"But is that really why you're leaving?"
I stared out the window. "What do you mean?"
Walker glanced at me again. "I'm guessing you found something back there—something you've been wanting for a long time. And the moment it got real, you found an excuse to run."
"He violated my trust," I protested weakly.
"He made a mistake," Walker corrected. "A big one. But people who care about you sometimes make mistakes because theycare. He looked at the files because in his mind he was protecting you, and as far as you're concerned that's his driving force in everything. It's what he is. The question is whether you're going to let one mistake destroy something that could be good for you."
I clutched Barnaby tighter, feeling like a hypocrite. Here I was, running away while holding onto the bear from Dion's playroom—the bear I'd named after my childhood one. The bear that represented everything I'd always wanted but had been too afraid to ask for.
"I don't know how to do this," I whispered. "I don't know how to need someone."
"My grandmother said the same thing," Walker replied softly. "Right up until the day she died."
"I don't want to be that person," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.
"Then don't be," Walker said simply. "It's not too late; I can turn around." I left that offer hanging while we drove in silence for a while, my thoughts churning. I wanted to go back to Dion, to apologize, to try to explain. But the words I'd flung at him hung in the air between us like a physical barrier. How could he ever forgive me for comparing him to the men who had abducted me?
"He was in a very dark place after his last deployment," Walker said suddenly. "We all were, but Dion... he took it harder than most. What we saw, what we couldn't prevent—it changed him."
I looked at Walker, surprised by this unexpected glimpse into Dion's past.
"He built that room when he got back," Walker continued, eyes fixed on the road. "Said he needed to create something beautiful after seeing so much ugliness. Said maybe someday he could protect someone properly, the way he couldn't protect those kids."
My breath caught in my throat. "Kids?"
Walker's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. "Refugees. We were sent in to extract three US diplomats and their families, but we were too late for some of them." His voice had gone flat, professional, but I could hear the pain underneath. "Dion found a little girl hidden in a closet. She'd been there for days. Didn't make it."
"Oh my God," I whispered, clutching Barnaby tighter. The image of Dion finding a child too late, after everything he'd done to try to save her—it made his protectiveness toward me suddenly make painful sense.
Walker nodded grimly. "That room isn't just a space for someone's Little side. It's his way of trying to make the world right again. To create safety where there was none."
We lapsed into silence as we turned onto my street. I stared at my apartment building, suddenly dreading going inside. It no longer felt like home, just a place where I kept my things.
"I'll walk you up," Walker said as he parked. "Check the place out first."
I didn't argue. After everything that had happened, the thought of entering my apartment alone made my skin crawl. Walker insisted on going in first, his hand hovering near his waistband where I suspected he carried a weapon. I waited in the hallway, still clutching Barnaby, feeling ridiculous but unable to let him go.
"All clear," Walker called after a few minutes, and I stepped in. "You have all our numbers. Call immediately if someone comes here or tries to get you to leave." I didn't reply because I was quietly freaking out, but then he walked to the door and closed it quietly behind him.
And I was alone.
Chapter Eight
Emily
I stared at my mother's name on the phone screen, my stomach clenching with familiar dread. I considered letting it go to voicemail but knew that would only make things worse. My mother had an uncanny ability to sense when I was at my most vulnerable, and she always chose those moments to call.
It had been a long sleepless night, and I'd been terrified of every noise. I'd finally dozed off around six a.m. and it was nearly eleven.
"Hello, Mother," I answered, trying to inject some normalcy into my voice.
"Emily, finally. I've been calling for days." Her tone was already sharp with disapproval. "Your father and I were beginning to think something had happened to you."
"I've been... busy with work," I said lamely, sinking onto my couch and adjusting Barnaby in my lap.
"Well, of course you have. That's all you ever do." There was a pause, and I could practically hear her gearing up for whatever criticism she'd been saving. "Speaking of which, we heard the most disturbing rumor at the club yesterday."
