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GENEVIEVE'S POV

The first thing I noticed was motion. 

The gentle, constant hum beneath me. The vibration of tires against pavement. I was lying down, my body cradled by something soft, and for a brief, fragile moment, I thought I knew where I was. 

We're going home. 

The thought settled over me like a weight. My chest tightened instantly. When we got there, my father would be furious. He always was when I caused trouble, when I disappeared, when I didn't do exactly what I was told. Fear curled deep in my stomach, cold and familiar. 

I kept my eyes closed. If I didn't move, maybe they wouldn't notice I was awake. Maybe I could pretend. Maybe I could delay whatever came next. 

That's when I smelled it. 

That same scent from before. Sweet and warm. Vanilla and flowers. Stronger than ever, wrapping around me like a memory I couldn't place. Confusion flickered through my foggy mind. That smell didn't belong in my family's car. 

Slowly, carefully, I cracked one eye open. 

Nothing looked right. 

The ceiling wasn't familiar. The seats weren't familiar. And when I turned my head just a little more, panic exploded through me. I wasn't in my family's car at all. 

I was in a stranger's car. 

I shot upright with a scream that tore from my chest before I could stop it. My heart pounded so violently I thought it might burst. Sitting beside me was him the man from the restaurant. The man from the bathroom. The man who smelled like safety and fear all at once. 

He was talking, his mouth moving quickly, hands raised like he didn't want to scare me, but I couldn't hear him. The blood rushed too loudly in my ears. My thoughts tangled into one frantic scream inside my head. 

Why am I here? 
Did he take me? 
Did my father give me away? 

I screamed again, louder this time, my body shaking uncontrollably. I tried to scramble backward even though there was nowhere to go, pressing myself against the door like I could disappear through it. Every muscle burned with fear. 

Minutes passed maybe seconds, maybe longer. Time didn't make sense anymore. Eventually my throat burned, my chest ached, and I didn't have the strength to scream again. The sound broke into sobs instead, ugly and raw. 

I curled inward, crying, trying to make myself small. 

He kept saying it was okay. That I was safe. That he wasn't going to hurt me. His voice sounded steady, gentle even but I couldn't trust it. I had heard kind voices before. They always changed. 

My thoughts spiraled. My father was bad, yes but at least he was familiar. At least I knew his rules. How could he just get rid of me like this? How could I end up here, with a stranger, not knowing where I was going or what would happen to me next? 

The exhaustion hit suddenly, like my body just gave up. My sobs quieted, turning into shaky breaths. My eyelids grew heavy despite the fear still buzzing through me. 

I didn't mean to fall asleep. 

But the darkness pulled me under anyway.

---

MICAS POV

The moment she started to stir, I felt it. 

Her fear slammed into the bond like a wave crashing against stone. The second her eyes opened, she screamed a sound so full of terror it felt like claws raking down my spine. 

I turned toward her immediately, speaking softly, telling her she was okay, that she was safe. She didn't hear a word. She screamed again, pulling away from me, her whole body shaking so hard it hurt to watch. 

I stayed where I was. Moving closer would only make it worse. I could see it in her eyes the absolute panic, the certainty that I was another monster waiting to hurt her. 

It shattered me. 

We were almost back at the pack, only 30 miles away, and there was nothing I could do except let her have space. When the screaming finally stopped, it turned into quiet, broken sobs that cut deeper than any sound. 

She cried herself to sleep again. 

Carefully, slowly, I moved her into my arms once I was sure she wouldn't wake. She fit against me perfectly, fragile and light, like she barely weighed anything at all. It terrified me. How could someone be this small and still survive so much? 

The last half hour of the drive, she slept in my arms. I didn't move. I barely breathed. Every rise and fall of her chest felt like something sacred. 

When we reached the pack, I took her straight to the doctor. He examined her while she slept, his expression growing more serious by the minute. 

Severely malnourished. 
Multiple old and new fractures. 
Two broken ribs. 

The words blurred together, each one igniting more rage inside me. The doctor said the abuse had likely gone on for most of her life. He estimated her age somewhere between sixteen and eighteen. 

A child. 

They placed an IV, started blood bags to replace what she'd lost. She didn't wake. She just lay there, small and pale, trusting a world that had never been kind to her. 

I stood there, fists clenched, my heart burning with fury and grief. I still didn't know her story. I didn't know her past. 

But I knew this
Anyone who had hurt her would answer for it. 
And I would never let her be alone again.