The hallway outside the panic room was quieter than before, but still too bright, too loud, too full of movement. The overhead lights felt harsh after the dim safety of the small room, and the moment Lian stepped out, the world hit him all over again—the echo of footsteps, the murmur of distant voices, the blurry flash of cameras from somewhere down the hall.
He flinched before he could stop himself.
Rian's hand tightened around his.
Just enough pressure to ground him.
Just enough to warn anyone watching not to approach.
Security stood spaced out along the hallway, a solid wall of black suits and stern expressions. They formed a protective path, ushering them toward the exit. The reporters were gone, but the tension in the air said the threat wasn't.
Rian kept Lian close, practically shielding him with his body as they were guided forward. Lian didn't try to pull away. He wasn't sure he could've walked steadily without that warm grip around his fingers.
