Prophet kneels beside me, his presence is solid.“Hannah, how about we get you inside?”he suggests gently.
I can’t speak.I can’t find the words to make sense of anything.Nodding, I let Prophet help me to my feet, his grip steady, guiding me gently as if I might crumble at any moment.He practically carries me inside, and the world outside fades into a blur of nothingness.
“She’s in shock,” Prophet says quietly, and I can hear the concern in his voice.I can’t look at him.I can’t look at anyone.
“Yeah,” agrees Hollywood, his voice distant as I hear him move about the room.“We’ve gotta warm her up.”
“Go find a blanket,” Prophet adds.
“I’ll call Flint,” Hollywood says.
Prophet nods as he moves me carefully, setting me down on the couch.The softness of the cushions feels like a distant thing, a strange comfort I can’t quite reach.
Hollywood moves quickly, his steps fast and purposeful.He’s back in no time, wrapping a thick blue waffle blanket around me.The weight of it helps, but it doesn’t stop the shaking.Nothing will stop the shaking.I feel as though I’m going to fall apart, pieces of me scattered on the floor.
“Hannah, do you have anything strong to drink?”Prophet asks gently, crouching in front of me.His voice is kind, but there’s a firmness to it.It’s as though he’s trying to pull me back from the edge.
Confused, I shake my head, my thoughts hazy.“No,” I murmur.
“No whiskey or brandy?”
“Rum in the cupboard,” I add, almost as an afterthought.“I use it at Christmas for rum balls.”
Hollywood glances at Prophet before nodding, a silent agreement passing between them.As Prophet continues to check on me, Hollywood briefly leaves the room, returning with a bottle of rum in his hand.He moves quickly, pouring a generous amount into a glass and offering it to me.The warmth of the glass against my hand is comforting, but nothing seems to stop the coldness that’s settled deep inside me.
Prophet helps me lift the glass to my lips, but my hands shake so badly I spill some.I can barely taste the rum as I take a small sip, but it burns down my throat, a fire chasing away the numbness.For a second, I almost feel like I can breathe again.
Hollywood pulls the blanket tighter around me, his concern evident as he hovers.“It’s going to be okay, Hannah,” he murmurs.“You’re safe.”
But I can’t shake the image of Blade—no,the bear—and Jasper’s mangled body.The blood.The violence.The reality of what I’ve just witnessed.I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and can’t find my balance.
“Blade,” I whisper, my voice trembling.“Where is he?”
Hollywood meets Prophet’s gaze, but it’s Prophet who answers.“He’s keeping watch.He’s not far.”
“Good.”I close my eyes, the warmth of the rum and the blanket mixing with the cold dread in my chest.
A loud flapping noise sounds from outside, and Hollywood strides toward the back door.His movements are purposeful, but I can’t make out the words being exchanged outside.I sit frozen on the couch, every muscle in my body still tense, my mind racing to process everything.My thoughts are too scattered, too consumed with the image of Blade’s transformation, the blood, and the destruction.
Hollywood comes back in a few minutes later, his expression tight with a new sense of urgency.He heads straight into my bathroom and reemerges with a towel, heading back outside without saying a word.
A few moments later, Flint walks in, the towel wrapped around his waist, concealing his otherwise naked body.
His face is strained as he speaks, his voice a low growl.“Blade is going to gut me for this.”
I don’t understand why they’re so worried about Blade.The man, or whatever he is, has already done the impossible.I don’t even know how to think about him anymore, except for the safety he’s given me.Even though the fear lingers like a cloud, I can’t push him out of my mind.
“We need to warm her up quickly.”Prophet’s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts.“It was either you or Fury, but she’s scared of him.Besides, we both know you could take Blade if you had to.”
“But I will never want to,” Flint responds, his tone light but serious.
The room feels too big.Too overwhelming.Every corner feels as if it’s closing in on me, and yet, in the midst of the chaos, there’s something about Blade, about what he is, that pulls me in.Even though I’m terrified, even though everything inside me screams to run, I can’t break free from the grip he has on me.
Flint removes the blanket from my shoulders and sits beside me on the couch.Without asking, he pulls me into his lap, his warmth a sharp contrast to the cold that’s settled inside of me.Prophet wraps both of us in the blanket, his movements gentle but purposeful.
“Flint runs warm,” Prophet says by way of an explanation, his voice calm and steady as he keeps his eyes on me.He turns to Hollywood, who is hovering by the door.“Go get a wet face cloth from the bathroom.”
Hollywood nods, slipping out of the room, and returns a moment later with a damp cloth.Prophet takes it from him and gently wipes the cool fabric across my cheek, his touch soothing against the residual tremors wracking my body.
