My fingers close around the St. Christopher medal. The metal bites into my palm.
You said you'd be bait because you wanted to feel brave. You're not brave. You're pathetic. You're—
"Angelina."
Cole is beside me—when did he move? He crouches, putting himself in my line of vision.
"I'm going to touch your back. Is that okay?"
I nod. Or I think I nod.
His hand presses flat between my shoulder blades. Warm. Steady. Not moving, not rubbing—present.
"Breathe with me. In for four."
I try. It comes out ragged, gasping.
"Good. Hold for four."
I can't. I can't hold. I can't—
"You're doing fine. Out for six."
The exhale shudders out of me. His hand stays on my back. Warm. Present.
"Again. In for four."
We do it again. And again. And again. I don't know how many times. The kitchen slowly stops spinning. The edges of my vision come back. Adrian's voice fades—not gone, never gone, but quieter.
My cheeks are wet. I don't remember crying.
Cole is beside me on the floor. Close but not crowding. Waiting.
"I held her gaze." My voice sounds wrong. Hollow. "In the courtroom. I held. And I felt strong." A cracked sound escapes. "For about twenty minutes."
"You are strong. This—" he gestures at the kitchen floor, at my shaking hands, at the mess of me, "—does not change that."
"It's not strength."
"Trauma responses are not weakness. They are survival." His voice is quiet. Matter-of-fact. "Your nervous system learned what it needed to learn. Youarestrong, and you have a body that remembers danger. Both are true."
Dr. Huang says the same thing. It's easier to believe in her office. Harder on my kitchen floor while a serial killer circles my house.
"I agreed to be bait." I stare at the cabinet across from me. "At the briefing, surrounded by your team, I felt ready. Now I just feel—"
"Human."
I look at him.
"You are allowed to be afraid," he says. "You are not required to perform courage for anyone. Not even yourself."
My eyes sting. I blink it back.
"The pasta water is boiling over."
A small smile crosses his face. Just a flicker. "I will handle it."
He rises, turns off the burner. I stay on the floor for another minute, letting my heart rate settle, letting the kitchen become a kitchen again.