Bound by Honor *2ND DRAFT*

XII

August 15

Malakai POV

The night had gone still long before either of us noticed.

The last of the office lights buzzed faintly, reflecting off her hair as she sat across from me — laptop closed, untouched coffee gone cold. We'd been working late again, but her attention wasn't on the numbers. She was too still.

I leaned back in my chair, studying her.

"Baby," I said quietly, "you've been staring at that same cup for twenty minutes."

Her lips twitched — not quite a smile.

"I guess I ran out of things to say," she murmured.

That wasn't like her. Even on quiet days, she filled silence with something — a soft comment, a question, some dry remark about how I never blink. Tonight, she looked... heavy. Like she'd been carrying something through fire and finally got tired of pretending it didn't burn.

I stood and walked around the desk, resting my hand on the back of her chair. "Talk to me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the window — to the city lights flickering far below. Then she said, "When I was in college..."

Her voice wavered, and for a moment, she seemed so young. She tucked her hair behind her ear, fingers trembling just enough for me to see. "It was the spring semester. Finals week. I went to this party with some friends—just to blow off steam. I remember the music was too loud, and someone spilled beer on my shoes. I was laughing about it, actually. He was someone I knew, or thought I did. He offered to walk me home. I thought it was nice. But..."

Stella's breath hitched. She stared at her hands, twisting her ring around her finger. "He sexually assaulted me."

My world stopped. I didn't breathe. Didn't blink. Every muscle in me went rigid. But her face — that was what broke me.

She wasn't crying. Her expression was flat, detached, the way someone looks when they've had to rehearse pain to survive it. Her voice stayed even, but her eyes... gosh. Her eyes were miles away.

She went on, voice quiet but steady. "Afterward, I told my roommate. She looked at me like I'd said something filthy. I tried to tell my parents, even though I was scared. My dad ended up suing the whole college for not protecting me, and suing the guy."

A muscle in her jaw worked. "I stopped talking about it. I figured if no one wanted to hear it, maybe it would just... go away."

She gave a small, bitter laugh. "I learned to act like I was fine. Eventually, people stopped asking."

I crouched down beside her chair, my hand trembling slightly before I reached for hers. "Stella," I whispered, "look at me."

She did — slowly. And when she met my eyes, I felt something twist deep inside. She looked so damn brave, but there was exhaustion behind it. Not weakness. Survival.

"I didn't want you thinking I'm cold," she said. "Or that I don't... trust you."

I shook my head. "You don't owe me any explanations."

Her eyes flickered with disbelief. "You're not... disgusted?"

"Disgusted?" My voice cracked sharper than I meant. "At you? Never." I swallowed hard, forcing my anger down where it belonged. "I'm disgusted at whoever hurt you. I'd give anything to undo that night."

She blinked fast, and for a second, I thought she might cry. Instead, she whispered, "You can't fix it, Malakai."

"No," I said softly. "But I can be someone who never lets you feel unsafe again."

She tried to laugh, but it came out choked. "You can't promise that."

"Yes, I can." I shifted closer, resting a hand against her knee — careful, deliberate. "I don't care what it takes. You're safe with me. Always."

She went quiet, her eyes falling to our hands. Then, almost too softly to hear, she said, "I didn't think I'd ever tell anyone again."

My chest tightened. "I'm glad you did."

"I thought you'd look at me different."

"I do," I admitted, voice low. "But not how you think. I see someone stronger than most men I know. Someone who got up every day anyway. You didn't let it break you."

Her shoulders trembled — barely, but enough for me to notice. I reached up, brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "You don't have to keep holding it all alone, baby. I'm here."

She looked at me like she wanted to believe that. Like part of her was testing whether I meant it.

"I'm trying," she whispered.

"I know." My thumb brushed against her knuckles. "You don't have to rush. I'll be here — however you need me."

She took a shaky breath, lips parted as if she might say more. Instead, she closed her eyes. The weight in the room shifted; it felt less like drowning, more like floating. Safe, if only for a moment.

"I used to think if I just acted normal, it would go away," she murmured. "But it follows you. Every day, every night. You learn to live around it."

I squeezed her hand, steady and warm. "You don't have to live around it here."

Stella opened her eyes, tears shining but unshed. "Thank you, Malakai. For not... leaving."

"Never."

She leaned forward until her forehead rested against mine, her breath trembling against my lips. "Thank you," she whispered.

I closed my eyes. "Always."

I didn't tell her about the anger clawing through me — the violence sitting just beneath my ribs, begging for release. That wasn't what she needed. She needed quiet. Steadiness. The assurance that no one would ever touch her again without her say-so.

So I stayed there on the floor beside her chair, her hand in mine, the city stretching endless and bright beyond the glass.

For once, there was no need to fix anything. Just to be. To let her know she wasn't alone anymore.