Maxim

The moment her body went limp, everything else vanished-my own anger, the cold night air, even the pain in my knuckles from the fight. All I could see was her, slumping in my arms as her eyes shut, her face pale and bruised. She was slipping away from us, and I didn't know what to do. Panic shot through me, clawing at my chest as I gripped her shoulders, my fingers trembling.

"Hold her!" Ethan's voice cut through the panic, but his words barely registered.

She looked so small, so fragile, and I felt this terrible, helpless kind of anger. She'd been dealing with this for God knows how long, and here I was, her brother, too blind to see it until it came to this. My hands shook as I helped Lorenzo lift her, each of us moving in sync, desperate to keep her steady. I could feel her slipping in and out of consciousness, her head leaning against my shoulder. It was like every step we took toward the house was holding off some invisible force trying to pull her away from us.

"Maxim, slow down," Elijah said from behind me, his voice tense but calm. "She's still breathing."

I let myself breathe just a bit, hearing that reassurance, but I felt the bruises under her shirt, each one a silent accusation that we'd missed something huge. The fear and pain she must have gone through-it was too much to think about.

We laid her down on the couch, and I took a step back, my hands hovering like I could somehow protect her from whatever might hurt her next. But she was lying there, bruised and bleeding, and I felt completely useless. I looked down at my hands, the same hands that were supposed to protect her, and all I could see was how we'd let this happen.

"Why didn't she tell us?" Ethan's voice was rough, his gaze locked on her, as if he was willing her to wake up, to be okay. "How could we have missed this?"

I didn't have an answer. All I knew was that something had to change. Adrian, this monster who'd hurt her, wasn't coming near her again. That much I'd make sure of.

I felt this helpless fury boiling inside me, and I forced myself to turn away before I broke something. The only thing stopping me was the thought that I'd wake her up, that I'd make things worse. But all that anger, the guilt, it didn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't just hit something and make it better. This was real. She was hurting, and none of us had seen it.

Lorenzo knelt beside her, brushing a hand over her forehead, and it was like he didn't even know where to start. None of us did. We'd always been close, but the walls she'd built around this... none of us had realized they were there until now. Until it was too late.

I wanted to tell her it would be okay, that we'd protect her, but the words felt hollow. She'd trusted us to see this, to step in before it went this far. And we'd missed every sign.

"Max," Elijah's voice was quiet, but steady. "We're here now."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on her face, each bruise a reminder. "We won't let him near her again," I muttered, my voice low but fierce. "Whatever he thinks he has on her-it's over."

For a moment, I thought I saw her stir, but it was just a trick of the light. I wanted to take her hand, to somehow let her know we'd be there now, that we weren't going anywhere. But I couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough. Not after everything she'd been through alone.

And as I looked at her lying there, bruised and hurt, I realized that nothing would be enough. Not until she was safe-really safe.

Lorenzo

The silence stretched as we watched her sleep, each of us weighed down by our own thoughts. My eyes stayed on her bruised face, each mark a reminder of how we'd missed everything-how close she'd come to breaking under it all.

When she finally stirred, her eyes fluttering open, I leaned in close, relief washing over me. "Hey," I whispered, keeping my voice soft. "You're okay. You're with us."

She looked up at each of us, her expression confused, like she was still trying to understand where she was. But there was something else in her eyes too, something that twisted my stomach-a kind of fear I didn't think I'd ever seen in her before.

Maxim, Elijah, and Ethan were right there with me, waiting for her to say something. But her face went blank again, like she was shutting down. It hit me hard that she was used to handling all this alone, as if she didn't believe we could help her, even now.

Breaking the silence, I forced myself to say the words I knew she needed to hear. "We know about Adrian," I said slowly, watching her carefully. "And you don't have to face this alone anymore."

I saw her tense, her eyes dropping as though the weight of it all was pressing down on her. For a second, I thought she'd pull away entirely. But she stayed there, vulnerable, raw, and it hurt me to see her like that.

Ethan, perched on the arm of the couch, leaned forward, his voice filled with a quiet but fierce resolve. "We've got this. Whatever he tries-if he comes back, we'll make sure he regrets it."

She nodded, but I could tell her mind was somewhere else. It was like she wanted to tell us something more, like there was still some hidden part of this nightmare we hadn't uncovered.

Maxim reached over and rested a hand on her shoulder, his voice gentle in a way I hadn't heard in a long time. "You're safe here," he murmured. "We're not going anywhere."

Before she could respond, we heard soft footsteps approaching. We all turned as Dad entered the room, his gaze sweeping over us and then settling on her. The bruises on her face, the cuts on her skin... for a moment, his expression softened, a look of concern crossing his face.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice calm and controlled, but there was a careful edge to it. "I didn't realize things had gotten... like this."

Maxim answered first, his tone steady but sharp. "She ran into some trouble, Dad. It's handled now."

Dad's gaze lingered on her for a moment, and I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes-a kind of emotion i couldn't understand. Then, he crouched down beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder, his voice lower and gentler. "I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner," he murmured. "You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

She looked up at him, a strange mix of confusion and wariness in her eyes, like she didn't know what to make of this show of care. I didn't blame her; it was strange.

Dad stood up after a beat, his expression softening as he looked over each of us. "You all must be exhausted," he said quietly. "I'll make something for you to eat. You need to keep your strength up."

With one last glance at her, he turned and left, leaving a silence behind that felt heavier than before. I could see the relief in my brothers' faces, and even in hers, but something about Dad's kindness sat uneasy with me. Maybe he was just trying to help in his own way. Or maybe there was more to this than any of us could see.

She sank back against the couch, looking a little more at ease but still wary, like she didn't trust any of this to last. And for now, I wasn't sure I did, either. But whatever came next, we'd face it together, and this time, we wouldn't let her go through it alone.