-In which, despite Indigo and Bucky's shattered and bruised state, their love for each other is the anchor that prevents them from completely crumbling.
Mature Content 18+
[Book Two]
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One Month Later...
Indigo emerged from Gracie's room, glancing at the clock on the wall—it was nearly nine at night. Gracie had woken from a nightmare just an hour after falling asleep, and it had taken Indigo nearly two hours to soothe her back to rest.
Her mind raced with worries about what could be frightening a two-year-old. The dark, clowns, strangers—none of those seemed substantial enough to explain her daughter's terror. It was as if something unseen was gnawing at her little heart, keeping her awake and screaming.
As she walked through the darkened apartment, a chill crept up her spine. The usual silence felt heavier tonight, laden with an uneasy tension. Stepping into the living room, Indigo's senses were on high alert. The feeling that someone else was in the apartment made her pulse quicken, and she instinctively reached for the small, concealed weapon she kept for emergencies.
The moonlight streaming through the windows cast long shadows on the walls, and every creak of the floorboards seemed amplified. Indigo strained her ears for any sound that might indicate an intruder or, perhaps, an unexpected visitor.
Indigo's heart pounded as she realized she didn't have her knife on her. It was still on the kitchen counter, but she had another option. Her gaze shifted to a small table next to the couch, where a knife was strapped underneath.
Maintaining her composure, she moved cautiously towards the table, her footsteps light but purposeful. She managed to retrieve the knife without making a sound, her senses alert to any movement in the darkened apartment.
Holding the knife tightly, she kept her movements swift and silent, not wanting the intruder to know she was onto them. She saw a shadowy figure lurking near the source of the noise. Acting on instinct, she hurled the knife towards the figure, its blade embedding into them.
"Goddamn it!" the person shouted, their voice laced with pain and frustration.
Without hesitation, Indigo leaped over the couch and sprinted toward the kitchen. The thought of waking Gracie drove her urgency; she wouldn't let whoever was in her apartment disturb her daughter's fragile sleep.
The moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a faint glow that illuminated the shadowy outline of the man in the kitchen. Indigo could make out his form but not his features, and the uncertainty of where her knife had struck only heightened her anxiety.
Adrenaline surged through her veins as she moved instinctively. She threw a punch that connected with a satisfying crack against his jaw, and followed up with a swift knee to his groin.
The man let out a groan, clearly in pain, and muttered, "You could have at least let me stretch first," before retaliating with a punch of his own.
Indigo sensed the incoming blow and ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as his fist missed its mark. She countered with a punch to his gut, making him double over.
