I shut the door quietly behind us and stepped into the hallway, putting a hand on Gil's chest to stop him from barreling any farther.

"Lower your voice," I said sharply. "She's asleep. Barely."

Gil froze, the anger draining from his face the moment he caught the look in my eyes. "What happened?" he whispered.

I didn't answer right away. I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to steady myself. "She's here. She's safe. But René—" My voice caught despite my effort to keep it together. "He hurt her. Bad."

Gil's jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth might crack. His hands balled into fists. "Where is he?"

"At her place. Passed out, probably," I said. "And no, you're not going over there with a bat. Not tonight."

He exhaled through his nose, pacing once before stopping. "She call the cops?"

"Not yet. She just fell asleep a few minutes ago," I said. "We're calling her doctor first thing. And then we'll let her decide what comes next."

Gil nodded slowly, though every part of him clearly hated it. "You did right," he said after a moment. "Staying calm. Keeping her safe."

I didn't feel calm. I felt sick. Guilty. Furious. All at once.

"I was on the phone with her," I said quietly. "I didn't even realize it. And she heard me... with someone else." I swallowed hard. "While she was hiding."

Gil stopped pacing. Looked straight at me. "That's not on you," he said firmly. "What he did is on him. Don't you dare carry that."

I nodded, even though it didn't quite settle the weight in my chest.

"I'm staying," he said. "On the floor, the chair, wherever. She shouldn't wake up alone."

"Take the chair," I said. "I'll stay on the couch. If she needs anything, I want to be right there."

We stood there in silence for a moment, the apartment finally quiet again.

Before heading back to the living room, I cracked my bedroom door just enough to check on Janet. She was curled on her side, breathing softly, one bandaged hand tucked beneath her chin.

I closed the door gently.

You're safe now, I thought. I swear you are.

Gil nodded slowly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "That sounds like her."

We sat there in silence for a moment, the weight of it all pressing down on us. The apartment felt too quiet, like it was holding its breath.

"She's stronger than she thinks," Gil said finally. "But she shouldn't have to be."

"I know," I replied. "I just don't want to take control away from her again. She's had enough of that."

Gil leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "You're not taking control. You're giving her options. There's a difference."

I looked at him then, really looked at him. He was scared. Angry. Helpless. And still thinking about her first.

"When she wakes up," I said, "I'll ask her. No pressure. Just... an open door."

"And whatever she decides," Gil added, "we back her. All the way."

I nodded. "All the way."

A soft sound came from down the hall—floorboards creaking, a quiet breath, maybe just her shifting in her sleep. Both of us stilled instantly, listening.

"She's not alone anymore," Gil said under his breath.

"No," I agreed. "She's not."

I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as the sky outside began to lighten just a little. Morning was coming whether any of us were ready or not.

And when she woke up, the world would ask her to make choices she never should have had to make.

But this time—
she wouldn't be making them alone.