PAIGE
The storm inside me finally began to quiet, leaving behind a hollow, scraped-out exhaustion. My sobs subsided into shaky, hitching breaths.
I was still curled against Leon's chest, his steady heartbeat a solid rhythm beneath my ear, the only stable thing in my spinning world.
He didn't push. He just kept a hand on my back, a silent anchor.
"What… what was all that about, P?" he asked softly, his voice rumbling through him. "What did he do?"
And it all spilled out. In a broken, raspy whisper, I told him everything. Not just the fight. I started from the beginning of that night—the desperate, power-struggle sex against his desk, the raw intensity of it.
I told him about the party, the man's hands on me, the shocking crack of the slap, the taste of blood. I told him how Reomen had appeared like an avenging angel, how he'd carried me out, how he'd held me all night, his voice a low, constant murmur in the dark.
