Always You

Enza

Jace was back, and she was right here. I glanced up to see her sleeping face, peaceful in the amber light of the setting sun. Her jawline was more defined now, her stomach flatter—abs peeking through her sun-kissed skin. Her thick, curly hair spilled across the pillow like it always had. I leaned in and kissed her collarbone softly before slipping out from under the blanket.

I pulled on her shirt from the floor, then my shorts, and headed toward the basement door. My eyes landed on the corner—where the shackles and chains still sat, untouched. A wave of memories crashed over me. Sleepless nights. Pleading for love. Begging for the beatings to stop. Just wanting the pain to end.

My knees buckled before I reached the stairs. Tears streamed down my face, silent and relentless.

Then I felt her—Jace's arm sliding around my waist, pulling me gently back against her. She kissed my shoulder, then turned me to face her, wiping the tears from my cheeks with careful fingers.

"I'm ready to head home," she whispered. "Will you come with me?"

I nodded, grabbing a clean shirt so I could return hers. As we climbed the stairs, I braced myself.

The living room was full—my family gathered like it was any other day. Laughter. TV. Normalcy. My dad glanced up when the basement door clicked shut, then grinned and turned back to the screen. Jayden sat beside him, the same smug look on his face.

"How was it, Jace?" Jayden sneered. "Was she a good time?"

Jace froze. Her jaw clenched. I tugged at her arm, desperate to keep her from reacting. "Jace, please. It's not worth it."

But she was already turning. "What did you just say to me?" Her voice was low, sharp.

The room went silent.

Jayden stood, smirking. "I said I know her better than you think."

The next moment shattered everything.

Jace reached into her pocket, pulled out a gun, and fired. The sound rang in my ears. Jayden collapsed, screaming, clutching his leg.

Jace knelt beside him, pressing her finger into the wound. "Touch her again, and I'll make sure you never touch anyone again," she hissed. Then she punched him square in the face.

She stood, eyes sweeping the room. "If any of you ever hurt her again..." She let the words hang in the air, a threat wrapped in laughter.

Then she took my hand and led me out the door.

We walked in silence, the evening air thick with everything unsaid. She had just shot someone for me—and acted like it was nothing. I didn't know how to start a conversation after that.

When we reached her house, she flopped onto the couch, exhaling like she'd been holding her breath for years.

"Jace?" I asked softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She turned to me, her eyes locking onto mine with a vulnerability I hadn't seen before. "Did I freak you out?" Her voice trembled.

I shook my head. "You didn't freak me out, Jacey. I could never be scared of you."

She smiled, pulling me down beside her.

For the first time in years, I wasn't afraid of the silence. I wasn't bracing for the next insult or blow. I was just here—with someone who saw me, who fought for me.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Short chapter I know trying to get back in my groove.