Sally's hands shook uncontrollably as she fumbled for her phone, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She could barely think, her mind racing as she struggled to keep her focus. She had to call the police. She had to make sure they came.

"Come on," she muttered through clenched teeth, her finger trembling as she pressed the call button. The phone seemed to take an eternity to connect. She could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. She glanced at Sam, her heart in her throat, praying the woman would hold on just a little longer.

Patricia wasn't much better off. Her eyes darted from Sam to Nate, her body tense as she moved closer, blocking the path between him and Sam. She could feel the terror radiating off her friend. The air in the room felt thick, suffocating, and Patricia wasn't sure if it was from the fear, the anger, or the overwhelming weight of everything that had led up to this moment.

"You're not touching her," Patricia growled, her voice low but firm. She was determined to protect Sam, no matter what.

Nate, with his bloodshot eyes and twisted grin, sneered at Patricia. His hand gripped the knife tighter, ready to strike, ready to finish what he started. He didn't care that she was blocking him; he had a mission. He was going to end this. He was going to finish Sam off once and for all.

"I don't think you can stop me," Nate spat, the venom dripping from his words.

But before he could move, the door slammed open with a violent crash.

"Police! Get down!" a commanding voice shouted.

Nate froze for a split second, giving the officers just enough time to burst into the room. They charged at him, weapons drawn, shouting commands. Nate's eyes widened, disbelief flashing across his face. He roared in fury, swinging the knife at the nearest officer, but they were faster, and with a well-executed tackle, they took him down to the ground with a thud. The knife skidded across the floor, and Nate struggled against the officers, his rage boiling over as he fought them off.

"Get off me!" he snarled, kicking and thrashing as the officers attempted to restrain him. His hands were cuffed behind his back with a swift, practiced motion, but he didn't stop. He kept thrashing, trying to break free, desperate to get back to Sam.

But the officers held him firm, forcing him to the floor, one of them pressing a knee into his back to keep him down.

"Stay still, you're under arrest for kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder," one of the officers shouted as they tightened the cuffs.

Sam, who had been frozen in fear the moment the officers rushed in, let out a shaky breath of relief. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding her breath until now. Her grip on the scalpel had loosened, and her hands were trembling, the adrenaline of the moment still surging through her veins.

Sally, still holding the phone, let out a relieved sob, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. She had done it. She had called the police, and they had come just in time.

Patricia stepped forward, her body still tense but visibly relieved, and she took Sam's hand. "It's over," she whispered, her voice gentle, though there was still a tremor in it. "He's not going to hurt you anymore."

Sam nodded shakily, her body feeling like it was on fire from the rush of adrenaline, but the tension in her chest slowly began to ease. Her eyes never left Nate as he was hauled to his feet, his struggles finally stopping as the officers forced him out of the room.

Sam closed her eyes for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She couldn't believe it. Nate, the man who had haunted her for so long, was finally being taken away. But she knew this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

She'd have to face the aftermath of everything. She'd have to heal. But right now, at this moment, it felt like a victory.

As the officers led Nate out, one of them turned to Sam. "You're safe now," he said gently, his voice kind but firm. "We'll make sure he's held accountable for everything he's done."

Sam nodded, her voice shaky but full of quiet strength. "Thank you." She let out a breath, finally feeling like she could relax, even if only for a moment.

And as she turned to the others, her friends—the people who had been there for her, fighting alongside her—she felt a flicker of hope. She wasn't alone anymore.

Heat's footsteps were heavy and urgent as he stormed into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Sam. Seeing her, pale and shaken, with the remnants of terror still clinging to her—he felt his blood boil. Without a second thought, he crossed the room, his movements protective, instinctive. He rushed to her side, gathering her into his arms, as though he could shield her from the world, from everything that had happened.

Sam's eyes flickered up to him, but it was a moment before she realized she could finally relax—he was here. She was safe. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but she felt warmth spread through her as his hands gently, but firmly, cupped her face. He looked down at her with a fierce, protective love.

"It's okay. I've got you. I won't let him near you again," Heat whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

But before either of them could breathe a sigh of relief, Nate, still on the ground and surrounded by officers, let out a primal, guttural snarl. His eyes burned with rage, his body still thrashing against the officers who were struggling to keep him restrained.

"You think this is over?!" Nate screamed, his face twisted in fury. "I'll make you all regret this!"

With an obscene grunt of effort, Nate gathered what little strength he had left and spat at one of the officers, the force of the action fueled by his rage. The officer flinched, shocked by the unprovoked attack, and in the same instant, Nate began to fight even harder. He swung wildly, trying to knock the officers off him, his legs kicking and his body thrashing violently against the restraints.

"Stop him!" one of the officers shouted, his voice strained as he struggled to keep Nate under control.

The air was thick with tension, the situation escalating in an instant. Heat's grip on Sam tightened as he pulled her closer to him, his eyes never leaving Nate. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through him again. The monster that had hurt her was still fighting, still trying to win, and Heat would not allow that to happen—not while Sam was standing here, not while he was breathing.

"Let go of him!" Heat snarled at the officers, his protective instincts surging. He didn't want to hurt anyone else, but the intensity of his rage was almost unbearable. He was about to act when one of the officers finally yelled at the others to restrain Nate even more firmly.

"I said... stop." Heat's voice was cold and venomous.

The officers, now taking his warning seriously, wrestled Nate back down to the ground with more force, pinning him in place. They secured his arms and legs as best they could, and his wild thrashing finally began to slow. It didn't stop his malicious words, though.

"I'm not done with you!" Nate snarled, spitting again, though now it was weak and desperate. "You think you've won? You'll never be free of me."

Heat leaned in toward Sam, his voice low and almost dangerous. "He's gone, Sam. He can't hurt you anymore." His gaze hardened, not leaving Nate even for a moment. "He's not getting out of this."

The officers finally finished restraining Nate, and they began to escort him out of the room, his rage-filled grunts and insults echoing as they led him away.

Sam clung to Heat, her body shaking but no longer from fear. It was the release—the sudden drop of tension she hadn't realized she'd been holding on to.

"Heat..." Sam whispered, her voice breaking as the weight of everything caught up with her. "I—I don't want to be afraid anymore..."

Heat nodded softly, pulling her into his chest, sheltering her as if the very act could keep her from falling apart. "You won't be. You're safe now. We'll keep you safe, no matter what."

And with that, as the door slammed shut behind the officers and Nate was carted off, the room slowly began to settle into a quiet calm. But it wasn't peace—not yet. Not until Sam had had the time, the space, and the love to heal.

As the last remnants of chaos faded, the final echo of Nate's madness still hanging in the air, Sam found herself in the one place she felt any semblance of comfort: wrapped in Heat's arms, where she could finally start to breathe again.

The door opened softly, and a female officer stepped into the room. Her expression was stern yet compassionate, her eyes scanning the scene as she took in the still-raw tension in the room. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, clinging to Heat for comfort, and the remnants of fear still lingered in her eyes.

"Sam?" The officer's voice was gentle, but her tone held the authority of someone who had seen too much violence. "Are you doing okay? How are you feeling?"

Sam didn't respond immediately. She just looked up at the officer, her thoughts scrambled, her heart pounding as if the past few hours were still rushing through her like an uncontrollable wave. Heat, sensing the shift in her energy, kept a steady hand on her shoulder, his eyes never leaving the officer as he stood protectively beside her.

Sam took a shaky breath and finally nodded, her voice quiet and almost broken. "I'm okay... I guess."

The officer studied her for a moment, then frowned when she noticed the visible signs of Sam's pregnancy. Her eyes widened for just a fraction of a second, and she seemed to register the depth of the situation in that brief moment.

"You're... pregnant?" she asked, her voice dipping into concern and surprise. Sam hesitated, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach, the baby she hadn't wanted still growing inside her.

"Yes," Sam whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "It's... Nate's baby."

The officer's face hardened, the sympathy quickly replaced by something darker—something much colder. She took a step closer, her eyes never leaving Sam.

"Nate...?" she murmured, processing the words, then her gaze flickered to Heat, and she nodded in understanding. "This changes everything. We'll be adding charges for the rape."

Sam's stomach dropped at the words, but there was also a strange sense of relief. It was a twisted sense of justice, but a feeling that this nightmare might finally start to be righted.

The officer continued, her voice now carrying the weight of a decision that was about to be made. "We're scheduling a court trial. We'll need you to testify, Sam. I know it's going to be hard, but it's the only way we can ensure Nate faces what he did to you."

Heat's arm tightened around Sam, sensing the anxiety that hit her all over again. "What do we need to do?" he asked, his voice calm but full of a quiet, dangerous resolve.

The officer turned to him, her gaze softening but still focused. "We'll give her the support she needs. We'll have people in place to help her through the process. The trial will be soon. It's important we get it scheduled while everything is fresh."

Sam's hands clenched tightly in Heat's shirt as she listened to the officer. She felt the heaviness of the situation sink deeper into her chest. The thought of standing in front of everyone, telling her story, reliving everything that had been done to her—it terrified her. But she knew she couldn't let Nate walk free, not after everything he had put her through.

Heat leaned in, his voice low and steady. "We'll make sure she's ready," he assured the officer, then he turned to Sam, his eyes filled with tenderness but also determination. "You're not alone in this. We'll make sure you get through it."

Sam nodded, her heart pounding, but there was a new resolve building inside her. The fear didn't go away—it never would, not after what happened—but maybe, just maybe, there was a way to take back some control. To make sure Nate could never hurt anyone again.

The officer nodded in acknowledgment and turned to leave, but not before offering Sam one last, reassuring look. "We'll be in touch soon with the details. We're here for you, Sam."

And with that, she left the room, leaving Sam and Heat alone once again, their world slightly more defined in the wake of everything that had just been revealed. Sam's gaze stayed fixed on the door for a long moment, and then, slowly, her eyes returned to Heat, who held her as if he was never going to let go.

"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice softer than before, like he was afraid to break the fragile peace they had found.

Sam's gaze softened, the weight of everything pressing in on her, but she finally found the strength to nod.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice steady despite the fear. "I'm ready."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she truly believed she could be.

The air was filled with a strange mix of tension and relief as the group finally reunited in the hospital lobby. Sam was sitting next to Heat, her fingers clutching his hand, her face still pale but much more steady now. Everyone had finally calmed down after the chaos that had unfolded. They all needed a moment to breathe, to let the weight of everything settle before facing what was next.

Sally, always the one with a quick sense of humor, raised her hand suddenly, her eyes lighting up with an idea that had the potential to bring some much-needed levity.

"Okay, guys," she began, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips, "I have a plan."

The group turned to her, eyebrows raised, curious but also eager for some distraction.

"We need a place to debrief, right?" Sally said, her voice dripping with excitement. "A place to laugh. To blow off some steam and just, you know, not think about everything for a second."

Patricia's eyes lit up. "Oh, I'm listening."

Sally held up a finger, clearly building anticipation. "I'm thinking... a carnival. Or an arcade. Or a circus! You know, somewhere loud and colorful, with cotton candy and ridiculous prizes. A place that's so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh!"

The group blinked, processing the idea. They exchanged glances, then, one by one, they started to crack a smile.

"That's actually brilliant," Emcee said, chuckling. "I mean, what better way to lighten the mood than by hopping on a carousel or playing skee-ball, right?"

"Yeah!" Patricia said, throwing her hands up in exaggerated joy. "Let's hit the bumper cars and pretend we're not in a world of chaos!"

Sally threw a playful wink in Heat's direction. "What do you think, Heat? Could you use a good arcade game? Maybe a little air hockey to blow off some steam?"

Heat chuckled, the tension of the day slipping away just a little. "You know, I could really go for a game of Pac-Man. I bet I can beat you all."

Sam, still looking worn but slowly starting to feel the weight lift, let out a soft laugh. "I think I'd rather just ride a roller coaster and scream until my voice goes hoarse."

"Yes!" Molly exclaimed, throwing her arms around. "I want cotton candy, like, stat!"

The entire group burst into laughter, the shared moment of absurdity helping to break through the heaviness that had been building for days. The idea of escaping to a silly, chaotic place felt like the perfect antidote to everything they'd endured. A chance to just exist, without fear or worry, if only for a little while.

"We deserve this," Derek said, nodding firmly. "After everything, we deserve some time to just have fun, even if it's just for a few hours."

Sally grinned, her idea now fully embraced by the group. "Alright, folks! It's settled. The carnival awaits! And I'm so ready to beat you all at ring toss."

Emcee slapped her back lightly, shaking his head. "Oh, I'm so winning the ring toss, Sally. Better start practicing."

"Yeah, well, get ready to eat your words," Sally retorted with a playful smirk.

As the group made their way out of the hospital and into the bright, open world, there was a noticeable shift in the energy around them. They were no longer weighed down by the looming darkness of their circumstances. For the first time in a long while, laughter and lightheartedness filled the air, and they were united by the pure joy of an evening away from everything else.

In the distance, the neon lights of an arcade flickered, promising a world of ridiculous fun—and for the first time in what felt like forever, the group of friends felt like they might finally have a moment of peace.

They piled into the car, ready for whatever silly, nonsensical adventure awaited them. And as they drove off into the night, they couldn't help but feel a little lighter, the world not quite so heavy anymore.

"Who's ready for bumper cars?" Patricia shouted from the backseat, her voice full of glee.

"Me!" everyone chorused together, a chorus of excited voices filled with the kind of energy that only a carnival could inspire.

And with that, the laughter and chaos of the night were just beginning.

The neon lights of the arcade bathed everything in a rainbow glow as the gang tumbled inside, laughter already bubbling up among them. The scent of buttery popcorn and cheap pizza filled the air, and the clatter of tokens and the beeping of machines created a symphony of chaos that was exactly what they needed.

Sam's eyes widened as she looked around, her mouth slightly open in wonder. For the first time in days, a real, genuine smile tugged at her lips.

"Okay," Heat said, rubbing his hands together with mock seriousness. "Rule number one: no thinking about Nate. Rule number two: if anyone cries, it has to be because you lost at skee-ball."

"Deal," Derek said, already eyeing a claw machine like it owed him money.

Molly squealed in excitement and yanked Joey toward the giant Pac-Man machine. "You're going down, Joey!"

"No way, I'm unbeatable!" Joey crowed, puffing out his chest like a kid.

Meanwhile, Sally and Patricia made a beeline for the shooting games. Sally slammed a token into the zombie shooter, cackling. "I've got some serious rage to work out, girl."

Patricia nodded, cocking the fake shotgun. "We're about to end some undead careers."

Sam hung back a little, uncertain, until Emcee sauntered up beside her, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "Come on, champ. Ever played air hockey?"

"I... think once," Sam admitted shyly.

"Then you're about to get your second lesson!" he declared, tossing a token to the machine.

Across the arcade, Sister Bowles was absolutely demolishing Heat at a basketball hoop game, sinking basket after basket with wild abandon.

"You were hustling me!" Heat barked in disbelief, watching another ball swish through the net.

Bowles smirked, hands on her hips. "You underestimate the power of the cloth, son."

Derek wandered over to a claw machine filled with stuffed animals. He hunched over like a man on a mission, his tongue poking out in concentration. Sam watched, amused, as he brutally tried to win a stuffed dolphin — and missed every time.

"One more try," Derek grunted, slamming another token in. "I'm gonna get that stupid fish if it's the last thing I do."

"That's a dolphin," Emcee called out helpfully from his air hockey match, just as Sam scored a sneaky point.

Derek froze. "Shut up!"

Meanwhile, Joey and Molly had gone completely feral at Dance Dance Revolution, limbs flailing wildly as they tried to out-dance each other. Molly was shrieking with laughter, tripping over herself, while Joey was just jumping up and down without any rhythm whatsoever.

"How are you still winning?!" Molly gasped, clinging to the bar.

"I have no idea!" Joey yelled back between hops.

Patricia and Sally finished their zombie slaughter and proudly compared kill counts. Patricia had absolutely obliterated Sally's score, and Sally was not taking it gracefully.

"This game is rigged," Sally said with mock outrage, tossing the plastic shotgun down. "I demand a rematch."

"Maybe you just suck," Patricia teased, skipping away before Sally could retaliate.

Sister Bowles, finished with humiliating Heat at basketball, sauntered over to a whack-a-mole game and just obliterated it, slamming the mallet down like a woman possessed.

"That's for Nate," Bowles said calmly, smack! "That's for the trauma," smack! "That's for daring to touch my new niece!"

The whack-a-mole operator slowly backed away, wisely deciding not to intervene.

After a while, they all reunited by the prize counter, sweaty, breathless, and loaded down with a ridiculous amount of tickets. Sam was clutching a tiny plushie Derek had finally won for her after his 87th attempt at the claw machine.

"What do we get?" Molly said, fanning herself.

"Uh," Joey said, squinting at the prize wall. "I vote for the five-dollar slap bracelets and a rubber chicken."

"Agreed," Emcee said solemnly. "We must honor the sacred traditions of arcade loot."

Patricia laughed. "Fine. Rubber chickens for everyone."

As they exchanged tickets for a bunch of rubber chickens, bracelets, and candy, Sam clutched her new plush dolphin to her chest. She felt... safe. Not completely healed. But safe. With her friends, with her family.

Heat slung an arm around her shoulders protectively. "Not bad for a bunch of traumatized weirdos, huh?"

Sam laughed softly, tears pricking her eyes — but this time, they were happy tears.

"Best night ever," she whispered.

As the group posed with their ridiculous prizes for a photo — Heat holding up two rubber chickens like swords, Bowles giving the peace sign, Sally making a goofy face — Sam smiled wider than she had in months.

The gang stumbled into Heat and Derek's shared house like a pack of overcaffeinated hyenas, arms full of arcade prizes, leftover cotton candy, and rubber chickens that squeaked very obnoxiously every time someone moved too fast.

Heat kicked the door shut with his foot. "Alright, alright, everyone find a spot and crash before I crash you."

Derek yawned so hard it looked like his jaw might unhinge. "Dibs on my bed."

"You live here, dumbass," Patricia shot back, elbowing him as she carried an armful of blankets into the living room.

Molly was already running around the living room, gleefully tossing pillows on the floor like she was redecorating a five-star hotel. "THIS is my kingdom! Joey, you're my court jester!"

"Only if I get a scepter," Joey said, whacking her gently with a rubber chicken.

"Granted," Molly said solemnly, crowning him with a couch pillow.

Meanwhile, Sister Bowles had raided the kitchen and came back with a bag of baby carrots and a bag of marshmallows. "These are our midnight snacks. Do not question it."

Sally and Patricia, dragging mattresses into the hall, gave her a look of combined horror.

"That's not a snack, that's a dare," Sally muttered.

"Whoever eats one of each at the same time wins," Bowles said, waving a marshmallow around like a trophy.

"You're sick," Derek said. "And I respect it."

Over in the bathroom, Sam was brushing her teeth with a new pink toothbrush someone had bought at the gas station — probably Derek, judging by the fact it had a glittery unicorn on the handle. She caught her reflection and, for the first time in a long time, didn't immediately flinch.

She smiled a little around the toothbrush foam.

When she came back out, Emcee had set up a big nest of blankets in the corner for her, complete with a huge stuffed dolphin that Derek had won. "Your throne, your highness," Emcee said, bowing dramatically.

Sam giggled and threw a marshmallow at him.

Heat was desperately trying to find enough clean blankets for everyone but kept getting pelted by stray rubber chickens and couch pillows. "This is mutiny," he muttered, hauling a giant blanket pile toward the living room.

"This is bedtime," Bowles corrected, thwapping him on the head with a pillow.

In the corner, Sally, Patricia, and Joey had somehow started a competition to see who could build the weirdest sleeping arrangement. Sally stacked two couch cushions vertically and declared it was a "sleep tower."

"Impractical, but bold," Joey said, judging like it was the Olympics.

Patricia, who had somehow cocooned herself completely in a sleeping bag and was now rolling around like a deranged burrito, just made muffled victory noises.

"How is this our lives," Derek said, standing at the edge of the chaos, deadpan.

"You love it," Heat said, tossing him a pillow.

Derek caught it and, after a long pause, just... chucked it right back into Heat's face.

Finally, after much yelling, laughing, and minimal organization, the gang collapsed into their makeshift beds. Blankets rustled, someone's rubber chicken let out a final sad squeak, and the house slowly fell into a drowsy, cozy silence.

Sam curled up with her dolphin plushie, listening to the soft sounds of breathing, the occasional mumble, and Heat muttering about "damn marshmallow carrots" in his sleep.

She smiled into the darkness.

For the first time in forever,
she was home.
She was safe.
And she wasn't alone anymore.

The night had settled over the house like a heavy blanket, the only sounds the occasional creak of the old wood, and Joey snoring softly somewhere under a pile of couch cushions.

Sam slept fitfully, twisting under her blanket. In her dreams, cold hands gripped her wrists, dragging her back into that dark place. She heard Nate's voice in her ear, the threats, the mockery. She tried to scream, to fight — but it was like wading through thick mud.

Her breathing grew sharp, faster, almost panicked.

Across the room, Heat stirred. He was a light sleeper by nature — years of racing and brawling tended to do that. He sat up, blinking the sleep from his eyes, and saw her. Sam, curled in a ball, whimpering quietly, fists clenched so tight her knuckles turned white.

Without thinking, he slipped out of his own nest of blankets and crossed the room quietly, crouching by her side.

"Sam," he said gently, touching her shoulder. "Hey... hey, it's just a dream."

She jolted awake, gasping, tears already brimming in her wide eyes. For a moment she just stared at him, heart racing, lost between dream and reality.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, wiping at her face. "I... I can't—" Her voice cracked.

Heat's heart broke a little at the sight. He sat down fully beside her, still giving her space, his voice soft. "It's okay. You're safe now. Promise."

She hesitated, swallowing hard. "C-Can I...?" she started, her cheeks flushing with shame. "Can I... c-cuddle you? J-Just for a little? You... you remind me of Breeze..."

Heat blinked. Breeze. That was a name she had mentioned once — someone she trusted once. Someone she lost. His throat tightened, but he smiled warmly anyway.

"Of course you can," he said, and opened his arms without hesitation.

Slowly, shakily, Sam crawled over and curled up against his chest. She fit so small against him, trembling like a leaf caught in the wind. Heat wrapped both arms around her gently, careful not to press against her stomach, just holding her with a protective warmth.

Sam let out a shuddering breath and pressed her face into his shirt. She still smelled faintly of cotton candy from the arcade, and Heat couldn't help but smile softly.

"It's okay," he murmured into her hair. "You're safe. I've got you."

For a while they just stayed like that, breathing together, the world outside falling away.
Sam's tears slowed, then stopped, replaced by little hiccuping sighs of exhaustion.

"You're like him," she mumbled sleepily. "You're warm... safe... You don't want anything from me."

Heat tightened his arms around her just slightly, resting his chin carefully atop her head. "Never. I swear it, Sam."

She clutched at his shirt like a child afraid of letting go. But the longer she stayed in his arms, the more the nightmare lost its grip on her mind.
The terrible images faded, chased away by the strong, steady beat of Heat's heart under her ear.

"You're brave, y'know," Heat whispered after a long time. "Braver than anyone I've ever met."

Sam's breath hitched again, but it wasn't from fear this time.
It was the ache of finally being believed.

In the darkness, surrounded by the soft snores and peaceful breathing of her new family, Sam allowed herself — for the first time in a long, long while — to feel safe enough to close her eyes.

Heat stayed awake a little longer, just to be sure.
Watching over her like a silent guardian.
Keeping the monsters of the past at bay.

And when Sam finally drifted off, her face peaceful against him, Heat smiled into the dark.
Because for tonight — for her — he had won.

And he would keep winning,
for as many nights as it took.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room where everyone had crashed the night before.

One by one, groggy heads lifted from pillows and blankets.

Derek stumbled into the kitchen first, rubbing his eyes and muttering something about needing "four cups of coffee and divine intervention." Molly followed, yawning and trying to brush the knots out of her hair with her fingers. Joey sleepily clung to her side like a koala, still half-asleep.

Sally and Patricia bickered over who got the bathroom first, their voices overlapping in hilarious chaos.
("I called it last night, Patsy!"
"Yeah, well, I have better hair to fix!")

Meanwhile, Emcee sat on the arm of the couch, flipping through a wrinkled old suit jacket he found in a closet, muttering, "Good enough for court, right?" with a dry laugh.

Sister Bowles was already in full force — barking orders like a tiny, fashionable general.
"Girls, brush your hair! Boys, ties straight! Sam, sweetheart, I laid out a nice dress for you— one that says 'strong and resilient,' not 'victim.'"

In the middle of it all, Sam sat quietly at the edge of the couch, blinking at the whirlwind around her.
The nerves gnawed at her stomach like sharp little teeth. She smoothed her hands over the simple black dress Bowles had picked — a soft, long-sleeved thing that made her feel a little braver. A little more put-together.

Heat knelt in front of her, already dressed in slacks and a dark button-down. His voice was low and warm when he spoke.
"You don't have to do this alone. We're all going with you. Every single step."

Sam nodded, biting her lip to keep from tearing up again.
"I know," she whispered.

Emma, Derek's girlfriend and the sweetest soul Sam had ever met, came by with a gentle smile, handing her a water bottle and some crackers.
"Eat a little, sweetheart. You're gonna need your strength."

Sam took them with a small, grateful nod.

Within the hour, they all gathered at the door — looking like the most mismatched, chaotic little army ever assembled.
Suits wrinkled, hair still messy in places, but eyes shining with determination.

Molly clutched Sam's hand tightly.
Joey offered her a tiny good luck charm he'd made out of arcade tokens and string.
Heat squeezed her shoulder firmly.
Sister Bowles adjusted Sam's hair one last time, muttering, "Perfect, darling. Perfect."

Derek, holding the car keys, grinned at her with a wink.
"Ready to show that bastard he messed with the wrong girl?"

Sam took a deep breath.
She thought of Nate's face, the terror, the pain.
Then she thought of these people around her — their fierce loyalty, their unwavering love.

She straightened her shoulders.
"Yeah," she said, voice stronger than she thought possible.
"I'm ready."

The group filed out together, a wall of support around her, heading to the courthouse as one.
Because today wasn't just a trial.

It was Sam's victory march.
And she wasn't walking it alone.