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I tried.

But I couldn't.

“Then you don’t,” he said. “You carry it. But you don’t carry it alone. Because I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” I nodded against him before I even realised I was doing it. Like my body believed him before my mind could catch up.

“I hate what he’s trying to turn you into, and I despise what he’s doing to you upstairs. But you’re still you, Evie. I can see it.”

Something in me cracked at that.

Because he knew.

He knew what happened to me in Wayne’s room. What I couldn’t undo. What I couldn’t even look at properly in my own mind. Heat flooded my face, and I turned into his chest before I could stop myself, trying to disappear into him.

“I can’t…” My voice broke.

“Don’t you do that,” he said, softer now. “Don’t you put that on yourself.”

I shook my head against him, eyes burning. “You don’t understand.”

“I do,” he said instantly. “I understand exactly where you are right now. And I understand you didn’t choose it. Not once have you had any control here, Evie.” My hands clenched into his abdomen as I became wholly consumed by my cries.

“You’re not disgusting,” he said. “You’re not ruined. You’re not a murderer, and you are not what he made you do,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he kissed my temple. I closed my eyes, leaning into the gentle touch.

“You’re Evie. That’s it. That’s still true.”

My throat tightened as I tried to breathe through it. Jackson lifted his head slightly, resting his forehead near mine without fully touching, careful of every movement like I was something fragile he refused to break further.

“So we breathe,” he whispered.

“One at a time. You and me. Until we get out of here.” His voice dropped even lower, steadier than anything else in the room. “And we are getting out. And when we do, I promise to never let you go.”

God, I wanted that to be true so badly, but how could it? How would we ever get out of here?

“Do you believe me, baby?”

I nodded, even though I had doubts.

“Good. Are you okay now?”

I looked up at him.

Really looked.

The sharpness of his cheekbones was more pronounced than a week ago. His skin had lost its warmth, dulled to something pale and worn. His moustache was blending into the overgrown stubble around his mouth. He seemed older somehow, like time had been carved into him.

“No,” I said.

I really wasn't okay, not when I’d just killed a man. Not with Jackson looking like a man the world was slowly trying to erase. And not with Peter upstairs, staring death in the face without realising it.

“I wouldn’t be okay either,” Jackson said quietly. “But you’re stronger than you think, Evie. You’re surviving things that should’ve stopped you years ago. And yet you’re still you underneath all of it. I din’t know how you do it, Evie. You’re incredible.”

I closed my eyes and let his words soak into my veins, intertwining with my atoms, and felt them slowly…so very slowly…begin to repair something that had been broken inside of me so long ago.

“You think…I’m strong?” I murmured against his chest, tracing my name inked above his heart.

“You’re the strongest person I have ever met, Evie,” he promised me, kissing my hair as my eyes stung. This right here? This…comfort? This feeling of warmth and protection? It was almost foreign to me, a feeling I hadn't felt in years. But with Jackson, it was so familiar, like our bodies had moved into position without realising it.

Those words were on the tip of my tongue again.