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"I'm sorry,” she sobbed.

Soren's hand settled gently between her shoulder blades. "No."

She looked up through blurred vision. "No?"

"You don't apologize for crying, babygirl.”

"But—"

"No buts,” he growled. His voice remained calm, but there was unmistakable certainty behind it. "You don't apologize for being frightened." He tucked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. "And you certainly don't apologize for coming to me." Her breathing gradually slowed, and he tugged her back against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek—strong and unwavering. Lily felt safe for the first time in a long time.

No one had ever held her like this—without demanding something in return and without expecting her to earn comfort. He simply held her. The silence stretched between them, and she was sure that she could spend the rest of the night in his arms.

Finally, she whispered the words before she had time to think. "Daddy." The room became perfectly still, and Lily's eyes widened. She hadn't meant to say it aloud. Heat flooded her face. "Oh god—” She immediately stepped back from him. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that. I⁠—"

Soren gently caught her trembling hands before she could retreat farther. "Look at me."

She forced herself to meet his gaze. There was no mockery there, only patience. "If that's what came naturally in this moment," he said softly, "there's nothing to be embarrassed about."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "I've never called anyone that, and I don't understand why I did."

"You don't have to figure that out tonight, babygirl." His thumb brushed away the tear with surprising tenderness. "When you're frightened, you reach for what feels safest." She stared at him. "You don't have to have all the answers right now." His voice lowered another notch, warm enough to wrap around her racing heart. "All you need to know is this." He waited until she was looking directly into his eyes. "You're safe here."

The knot that had lived in her chest for years loosened just a little, and she nodded. "I believe you." Soren's expression softened, and for the first time since she'd met him, she saw something beyond the ruthless man who commanded fear. She saw the man who carried the weight of protecting everyone under his roof. The man who had quietly become her safe place.

He tucked the towel more securely around her shoulders. "Come on."

"Where are you taking me?” she asked.

"I'm making you tea,” he said.

She blinked up at him as he wrapped a protective arm around her. "You make tea?"

The corner of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile. "I make excellent tea." Despite everything, she laughed. The sound filled the quiet room, chasing away the last remnants of her nightmare. As Soren led her toward the kitchen, his hand resting lightly against the middle of her back, Lily realized she no longer felt alone. She felt safe and protected, and that had everything to do with the half-naked man who was about to make her tea.

Chapter Eight

Soren

Soren had forgotten what it was like to comfort someone. The last person he'd held while they cried had been his younger sister. He was sixteen, and she was twelve. Three weeks later, she was dead. Since then, he buried every protective instinct beneath discipline, violence, and control, because caring for people got them killed. That had been the rule he'd lived by for nearly twenty-five years. But that was before Lily walked into his life. Now every rule he'd ever written for himself felt like it was beginning to crack.

He glanced down at her. She stood wrapped in the towel he'd draped over her shoulders, her eyes still glassy from her tears. When she'd whispered the word Daddy, something deep inside him had shifted, not because of the title, but because of the trust behind it. She hadn't planned to say it. It had slipped out in the one moment she'd been completely vulnerable. He wasn't about to exploit that because she deserved better than every man who had come before him.

The kitchen was silent except for the rain tapping softly against the windows. Soren switched on the under-cabinet lights before filling the kettle. "You really do make tea,” she said.

"I told you I did."

She smiled faintly. "I thought you were joking."

"I don't joke often,” he admitted.

"I've noticed."

He caught her watching him as he measured loose tea into a small ceramic pot. "What do you mean by that?"

"You don't seem like someone who knows how to—” She gestured vaguely. "Do normal things."

He almost smiled. "I know how to do many normal things."