Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder 65

Zhan

I wake to warmth. Not the sterile chill of a cell, not the ache of fear pressing into my ribs, but warmth.

Wang's chest is against my back, his arm draped heavy over my waist, his steady breath fanning the back of my neck. For a moment, I just lie there, eyes closed, soaking it in, the solid weight of him, the faint scent of his skin, the quiet hum of safety that I'd almost forgotten how to feel.

I shift slightly, and his grip tightens instinctively.

"Don't," he murmurs sleepily, voice rough from the night. "Stay."

I smile faintly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He exhales, nuzzling against my shoulder. His lips brush over my skin, lazy and soft. "Good," he says, like he's claiming the word.

The room is still dim, sunlight only just beginning to filter through the curtains. It feels like the world outside doesn't exist, no prison walls, no threats, no fear. Just us.

I turn in his arms to face him. He's half-awake, hair tousled, eyes heavy but warm in a way I've never seen before.

"Morning," I whisper.

He smirks faintly. "Morning." His thumb traces my cheekbone, slow and absent, like he's memorizing me again. "You look better here."

"Here?"

"In my bed. Where you belong."

I roll my eyes but can't fight the flush creeping up my neck. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," he says, leaning in until his forehead presses against mine. "But you're still here."

I kiss him softly. No urgency this time, just slow, tender, grounding. He pulls me closer, like even now he doesn't quite trust the world not to steal me away again.

We stay like that for what feels like forever, wrapped up in each other, the morning light creeping in around us, both of us breathing in sync.

When Dre bangs on the door yelling, "Rise and shine, lovebirds! Breakfast's getting cold or we can eat all of it. Ezra laughed!", Wang groans against my neck and mutters, "Five more minutes."

I laugh. "He's not going to stop."

"Then let him starve."

I kiss him again, and for the first time in forever, the future doesn't feel like something I need to fear.

We finally drag ourselves out of bed, reluctantly. Ezra's threats about "eating everything" prove hollow, he's sitting at the table with Dre, already halfway through his third plate.

"About time," Dre says with his mouth full. "I thought we'd have to send a search party."

Wang ignores him, pouring coffee while I slide into the seat next to Ezra. For a fleeting moment, everything feels... normal.

Until Wang's phone buzzes.

He glances at it casually, then stiffens.

I notice immediately. "What is it?"

He doesn't answer, just turns the screen toward me. A message.

From: Mom.
Tell Zhan to meet me. Alone.

My stomach drops.

Dre whistles low. "Ooooh, that sounds bad."

Ezra elbows him. "Not helping."

Wang's jaw tightens. "You're not going."

"I think I have to," I say quietly, heart pounding.

"Zhan—"