The room feels too full after Damien leaves.
Not with noise.
With everything else.
With her breathing.
With his heartbeat.
With the unspoken things sitting between them like fragile glass.
I exhale first.
Slow.
Controlled.
Barely.
I release her hand, but only so i can sit on the small couch by the window the one no one ever uses because it's "personal space," and Cyrus Hale does not do personal space.
Except right now.
I looks at her.
Then at the empty spot beside me.
Then back at her.
She understands the invitation, even if i don't say it.
Sienna walks toward me carefully, like approaching some dangerous animal that might bolt or bite. She sits beside me, leaving a few inches between us polite, safe inches.
I hates those inches.
But i let them stay.
For now.
The rain outside taps lightly against the glass. The city hums below, distant and muted. For once, the world feels like it's standing still for them.
Sienna draws her knees up slightly, turning to face him. "You okay?" she asks softly.
I let out a tiny laugh surprised, almost disbelieving. "You're asking me that?"
"You look… tense."
"I'm always tense."
"More than usual."
I glance at her, jaw working. "You're not wrong."
Silence stretches.
Not heavy.
Not awkward.
Just… present.
Her fingers pick at the threads of her sweater, twisting lightly. He watches the movement, hoping it means she's calming. Or trying to.
"You know," she murmurs, voice nothing but a small ripple, "I wasn't scared of Kai. Not at first. He was just… someone in a nice suit with a pitch about collaboration." She exhales shakily. "But now? Knowing he was watching me? Inside my space without me noticing?" She shakes her head. "I hate that feeling."
I shifts, turning a little toward her. "Feeling watched?"
"Feeling powerless," she corrects quietly.
My eyes soften barely, but the shift is there. "You're not powerless."
"I feel like it."
"You're not."
"I know," she whispers, "but my body doesn't."
That hits me deeper than any threat could.
I lean back, letting my head rest against the couch. My voice drops, quieter. "I wish you'd told me sooner."
She looks down. "I didn't know how to. I didn't want to be… a problem."
"A problem?" i repeat, disbelief and anger tangling in my voice. "Sienna, you are never..."
I cut myself off, breathing slow through the emotion.
"Sienna," i try again, gentler this time, "you're not a burden. Not to me."
Her eyes flick up.
Soft. Searching.
Trusting.
And that alone tightens something in his chest.
We sit like that for a moment, facing each other but not too close. Just enough that our knees almost touch.
Almost.
"It's strange," she says after a while. "This room felt cold before. Now it doesn't."
I look around. The inner safe room was almost like another house entirely. The books. The steel shelves. The outdated couch. All the things meant to keep them detached.
"It feels different because you're here," he says simply.
Her lips part slightly at that.
Not a gasp.
Just a breath that sounds a little too soft.
"Cyrus…"
I study her face, the way her shoulders aren't as tense, the way she's sitting a bit closer than before maybe an inch, maybe less, but he feels it anyway.
"I know you're scared," he says.
"Of Kai?"
"Of everything."
She hesitates. "Are you?"
I don't answer for a moment.
Then, very softly: "Yes."
Her eyebrows lift, almost surprised. "You? Scared?"
I give a tiny, wry smile. "Don't get used to it."
She laughs quietly, the sound small but real. It eases something tight inside him.
"What are you scared of?" she asks gently.
I lean my elbows on my knees, hands loosely clasped. "Losing control."
A pause.
"Losing you."
Longer pause.
"And what I might do if someone tries."
She swallows hard. "Cyrus…"
"I'm being honest," i murmur.
"I know."
Quiet again.
But warm.
Sienna shifts and this time she closes the gap between them. Barely. Just enough that her shoulder brushes his arm.
I go very still.
Not frozen.
Just… aware.
She whispers, "I'm glad I'm not alone."
"You'll never be alone," i say, voice low and steady like a vow he didn't mean to say out loud.
She looks at me really looks and for a long moment, neither moves.
Then she leans her head lightly against my shoulder.
A small contact. Soft. Barely there.
But it hits me like a tidal wave.
I don't move. Doesn't breathe. Doesn't even blink.
Until she whispers, "Just for a minute. Is that okay?"
My throat works before the word comes out.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "It's okay."
I let my shoulder lower, fitting just enough for her to rest comfortably. My hand settles near hers not touching, but close enough that the warmth bridges the gap between them.
The rain continues.
Their breathing syncs.
Nothing is explosive.
Nothing is dangerous.
Just quiet.
Just them.
And for the first time in a long time, Cyrus feels the fear settle into something gentler.
Something like peace.
Something like her.