"Angelina—"
"You don't make me brave." She says it before I can argue. "You don't. I'm not brave. I'm scared out of my mind. I have been for weeks."
"Then why—"
"Because you make me feel like I can survive being scared."
The words hang between us.
Outside, a car passes. Inside, the coffee maker drips its last drops into silence.
"When I'm alone with it, the fear is... everything." Her voice drops. "It fills up all the space. I can't think past it. Can't breathe through it. I just—freeze."
Her hand presses harder against my chest.
"But when you're here, there's room. Room to be terrified and still move. Still think. Stillchoose." She meets my eyes. "I'm not asking you to make me safe. I'm asking you to let me be scared and do this anyway."
I look at her. This woman who built a life out of wreckage. Who stands in courtrooms and faces down men who would see her destroyed. Who is shaking in front of me and asking me to trust her anyway.
Trust her to know her own limits.
Something in my chest loosens. Not the fear—that stays. But I am not carrying it alone anymore.
"If anything feels wrong—"
"I tell you immediately."
"If she gets within ten feet of you—"
"You do whatever you have to do."
"If I say we're done, we're done. No arguments."
A beat. Her mouth curves, just slightly.
"No arguments. Unless you're wrong."
I pull her in. Wrap my arms around her and hold on. Her face presses into my shoulder, her breath warm against my neck, and for a moment we are just two people holding each other in a house that might become a trap.
"Okay," I say into her hair. "We do this together."
Her arms tighten around me. Once.
Then she pulls back. Smooths her robe. Meets my eyes for one more moment—something passes between us that doesn't need words.
She returns to the couch and picks up her legal brief with hands that are almost steady.
The performance resumes.
A crackle in my ear. Kade's voice, low: "Blade. You good?"
I glance at Angelina. She meets my eyes. Nods once.
"We're good."
"Copy that." A beat of silence that says what words can't—the understanding between men who would burn everything for the people they love. "Holding positions. Check in at noon."
The channel settles back to quiet. We are carrying it together now.