Her heart thrashed against her ribs, but the rhythm began to steady, syncing with his slower, deliberate breaths. He bent his head, his cheek brushing the crown of her hair as he murmured, “I’ve got you. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Tears stung, hot and unwelcome, as the fear finally had somewhere to go. Her knees threatened to buckle, but he held her tighter, one hand splayed wide against her back, urging her forward. “I…,” Her throat caught. “Lena. Lotus,”
“They’re safe.” His voice was clipped but certain, and she clung to the certainty like air. “Lotus has her. They’re already clear.”
She wanted to ask more, to demand proof, but her body overruled her brain. Relief flooded so fast it made her dizzy. All she could do was hold tighter, her cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heartbeat through layers of fabric.
For a few breaths, the chaos faded. There was only the heat of him, the surety of his arms, and the wild realisation that she hadn’t known how desperately she needed to feel safe until now.
But the world hadn’t stopped, not really. Shouts echoed further down the street. Somewhere behind them, Oliver was still out there.
“Come on,” Watchdog murmured, shifting his hold, tucking her against his side but keeping her close as he propelled her forward. “We need to move.”
“I don’t—” Her voice broke. She didn’t want to let go, didn’t want the solid warmth of him to vanish.
His arm tightened around her as if he understood without words. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”
He guided her down a side street where a black van idled, engine humming. The side door slid open with a metallic thunk, and familiar faces were there. Lotus, her hair mussed, guiding Lena inside, Reaper covering their backs with eyes like steel.
Clara looked up at him one last time before climbing in. The lights of the city haloed his face, harsh shadows cutting across his jaw, his eyes burning with something fierce and unspoken.
Then he ushered her into the van, his hand warm against hers, and for the first time since this nightmare began, Clara believed she might actually survive.
Inside the van, the air was warm, smelling faintly of oil, damp clothes, and the tang of adrenaline. The moment she stepped in, Lena was there, grabbing her in a fierce hug that almost knocked the breath from her lungs.
“God, Clara!” Lena’s voice cracked as she held on tight. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you.”
Clara clutched her back just as hard, burying her face against her shoulder. “I’m fine. You’re fine. That’s all that matters.” The words tumbled out in a rush, shaky with leftover fear. “I saw the red dot… I thought—”
“I’m here.” Lena pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye, her own cheeks damp. “We’re both here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The van jolted into motion, pulling them away from the kerb, but Clara barely noticed. Because even as she clung to Lena, she felt Watchdog slip into the seat beside her, his presence as solid and steady as a wall. He didn’t speak, but his hand found hers and didn’t let go.
Clara’s breath hitched, a strange, steady calm settling over her now that he was pressed close on one side and Lena on the other. Safety. For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt…safe.
Lena noticed, of course. She always noticed. Her eyes flicked down to their joined hands, then back up, mischief sparking even through her exhaustion. She waggled her eyebrows at Clara, a silent commentary that needed no words.
Clara flushed hot, pulling in a shaky breath, but she didn’t let go of him. Not even for appearances.
And when Lena squeezed her other hand, Clara realised she could breathe again. She wasn’t alone in this nightmare. Not with Lena at her side. Not with Watchdog watching over her.
For the first time since Oliver pressed that gun into her ribs, Clara felt steady again.
Chapter 25
The safehouse ticked too loud.Radiator, pipes, floorboards, every sound catalogued whether he wanted it or not. Too clean, too staged, like it had been dressed to look lived-in but hadn’t yet earned it. It felt hollow, the way he felt most of the time, yet that feeling had eased a little lately. A kernel of something unfurling in his gut and filling the empty space in his chest. It made him uncomfortable to think about.
He tracked Clara instead. She hadn’t moved from Lena’s side since they brought her in. Sat too close, hands wrapped tight around her friend’s like she could anchor them both if she held on hard enough. He recognised the look, hypervigilance, the refusal to stand down until you’d confirmed every variable was controlled. He lived like that every day.
He’d lived it in that van when Clara got up and walked away with Oliver, that fucking psychopath. No, not a psychopath, a fucking narcist. He’d seen enough psych evolutions to know and even his records from Box 500 had made note that Oliver showed multiple tendencies of a narcissist. Not necessarily a bad thing in his job, but for those around him, a real risk.
Watchdog noticed Lotus crouch in front of Lena, her voice low, calm. “We’ve got someone securing your girlfriend. She’s safe and you’ll see her soon.”
Lena blinked at her, then turned wide eyes to Clara. A silent is that true?
Clara nodded without hesitation. “You can trust them.” No wobble in her tone this time. Just certainty.
Watchdog’s chest pulled tight at that. Not at Lena’s relief, though he clocked the shift in her pulse, the way her shoulders dropped, but at Clara’s conviction. She believed it. Believed him. That was a variable he hadn’t accounted for, and it short-circuited something in his head. She trusted him, but he had let her down today. He should have clocked every variable, and he hadn’t, and it had almost cost her, her life and that of her friend.
