Frank's voice exploded near her ear. Loud. Angry. Too close.
"Who the fuck are you? Let go of her!"
The arms around Jenny didn't move. Not even a little. They only tightened. Steady. Protective.
Then came a voice. Deep. Cold. Controlled. But laced with fury.
"What did you do to her?"
That voice. That exact voice.
It pierced right through the noise. Through the fog in her brain. Like a key, sharp and sudden, stabbing into her memory.
Jenny didn't look up. She couldn't.
She just pressed her cheek harder against his chest. His shirt was cool. His scent sharp. Her skin was burning, but his body was solid. Grounding. She wanted to crawl inside that safety.
"None of your business!" Frank barked. "This is between me and her!"
He tried to step forward. Tried to grab her.
He didn't get far.
Another figure stepped between them. Strong. Silent.
"Frank, leave it."
"Yeah, don't make a scene."
Voices joined in. Calm. But unshakable.
Jenny heard the tension shift. She felt it. Frank wasn't in control anymore.
His friends—drunk and loud a second ago—suddenly looked smaller. They stepped back. One by one. They saw the men with James. Saw their faces. And they backed off.
The air was thick. Tight. Like it could catch fire any second.
James's body tensed. She felt it.
His muscles locked under her fingers. He was ready to fight. But he didn't move.
Just one word came from his mouth.
"Leave."
Quiet. But final.
It wasn't a shout. It didn't need to be.
Frank went quiet.
Then his voice came again. Low. Bitter.
"Fine. You win. We're leaving."
His footsteps shuffled away. The noise faded. The pressure lifted.
Jenny could finally breathe. Sort of.
The only things she could hear now were her own shallow breaths and the steady heartbeat under her ear.
"Can you walk?"
The voice above her had changed. It wasn't cold anymore. It was soft now. Worried.
She tried to answer. She really did. But her voice wouldn't come.
Her throat burned. Her head spun. Her legs had turned to air.
So she gripped his shirt tighter.
Then, suddenly, the ground vanished beneath her.
She gasped.
He picked her up. Just like that.
Like it was nothing. Like she weighed nothing at all.
Her arms flew around his neck. She held on. Tight.
Her head tilted back. The lights above blurred. The world swayed.
But for one second—just one—everything cleared.
She saw his jaw. His mouth. His eyes.
Those eyes. She knew those eyes.
James.
Of course it was him.
He looked down at her. His face was hard. Tight. But there was something else there too. A storm behind his calm.
He spoke to the men beside him. Quiet. Fast.
They nodded. No one argued.
He carried her out. Past the crowd. Past the smoke and music and heat.
The cold air hit her skin like a slap. But it wasn't enough. Not even close.
Her body still burned.
He opened the door of a sleek black car. He bent down. Laid her gently in the back seat. Careful. Gentle.
Then the door shut.
Silence.
The world stayed outside.
He slid in beside her. His body took up most of the seat. Big. Warm. Solid.
"I'll take you home." His voice was low. Steady.
She shook her head. Weakly.
"No… don't."
Her voice cracked. Barely above a whisper. But he heard it.
"Not there. Please… anywhere else."
He paused. Looked at her. Really looked.
Then nodded. Turned to the driver.
"Take us to my apartment."
The car moved. Smooth and quiet.
The divider between the front and back seats rose. A soft hum. Then they were alone.
Just the two of them.
The heat in her body didn't stop. It only got worse. Her skin felt too tight. Her heart raced. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gulps.
She turned toward him. Pressed closer. Desperate.
His shirt was soft. Damp. But not hot. Cool somehow. Comforting.
She leaned in. Rested her face on his chest again.
His scent hit her instantly. Clean. Familiar. Sharp like mint and rain.
She breathed him in. Deep.
She needed him. Right now, he was the only thing that made sense.
His arm wrapped around her. Firm. Anchored.
He didn't say anything. Just held her.
His hand moved slowly on her back. Up and down. Reassuring.
Her body moved too. Slowly. Almost without thought. She shifted. Rubbed against him. Seeking cold. Seeking comfort. Seeking anything.
Her thigh pressed against his. Her breath hit his collar.
She didn't kiss him. Not really. But she was close. So close.
She could feel his chest rise. Then fall. Then rise again.
Faster this time.
Her fingers moved up his shirt. To his neck. To the warm skin just above the collar.
His breath caught. Just a little.
"Jenny…"
He whispered her name like it hurt him.
She looked up. Blinking.
Her eyes found his. Dark. Wide. Troubled.
She didn't speak. She didn't have to.
He leaned in. Their foreheads nearly touched.
His breath ghosted over her lips.
She could taste him in the air.
He closed his eyes. His jaw tightened.
"Not like this," he said. Barely audible. "You're not yourself right now."
Her hand cupped his cheek. Trembled.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to kiss him or cry.
"Just… stay," she whispered.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
But he held her tighter.
And she stayed curled in his arms.
She didn't know how long they sat like that.
Minutes. Maybe more.
But in that small space, inside that quiet car, time didn't matter.
She felt his heartbeat against her cheek. Steady. Reassuring.
Her fingers fisted his shirt.
He was the only solid thing left in her spinning world.
And for now… that was enough.
He carried her away from danger, but the storm inside wasn't over.In his arms, she found a fragile shelter—yet the fire within her refused to die.Can two broken souls find healing in the darkness?Or will the past pull them under before dawn breaks?