"Tessa, put the lamp down," Anders said, his voice dropping into a command register, that Alpha tone designed to compelobedience. "You are still unstable. The storm is still raging outside. You cannot be alone right now."
"I’ve been alone for years!" I yelled, tears finally spilling over, hot and scalding on my cheeks. "I built this house so I would never have to see you people again! I built T.L. Rose so Tessa Kane could stay dead! And you broke in and dug her up!"
I swung the lamp in a menacing arc, the shade rattling against the bulb.
"If you come near me," I hissed, baring my teeth, "I will crack your skull, Anders. I swear to God. I am not the scared girl on the stage anymore. I will hurt you."
The room fell into a terrified, breathless standoff.
Anders stood by the chair, hands raised, eyes darting between the lamp and my face, calculating the distance. Simon was backed against the window, pressing into the glass, looking like he wanted to jump through it just to escape my gaze.
And Daniel…
The gentle giant didn't back away. He didn't raise his hands in defense. He looked at me, really looked at me, with hazel eyes that held a decade of silence and regret. Then, slowly, with agonizing deliberation, he sank to his knees.
He didn't argue. He put himself on the floor, surrendering his height, surrendering his power. He lowered his head, exposing the back of his neck in a gesture of primal submission.
"Okay," Daniel said, his voice a low, rumbling vibration that traveled through the mattress and soaked into my skin. "Okay, Tessa. You're right. We're monsters. But we aren't leaving you to die. Not this time."
TEN
Daniel
The brass lamp was heavy. I could tell by the way the muscles in her forearm were corded, trembling under the strain of holding it aloft. The shade rattled against the bulb,tink, tink, tink, a metronome counting down the seconds before she swung.
In her grip, it wasn't a piece of home decor. It was a blunt instrument. Her eyes had gone wild, dilated, stripped of everything but the primal need to survive, and I knew she would use it. She would crack Anders’ skull open and feel justified, because in her mind, she was trapping a predator in a corner.
"I will hurt you," she hissed.
Anders shifted his weight, his Italian leather shoes squeaking on the hardwood. I saw the tension coil in his shoulders, the instinct to lunge, to disarm, to control the asset before she damaged herself or the property. I saw Simon pressing himself into the window frame, his face a mask of horrified paralysis, his hands twitching uselessly at his sides.
They were making it worse with their standing and looming. To her, we were a wall of Alpha dominance that had broken down her door and defiled her sanctuary. Maybe she eventhought we had defiled her. Maybe just the idea of being touched by us was repulsive to her, something which horrified me.
Then I know that I couldn't be a wall. Not anymore.
I didn't think about it, just let gravity take me, and sank to the floor.
The movement was slow, deliberate, telegraphing every inch of the descent so she wouldn't flinch. My knees hit the plush area rug with a heavy, muffled thud. I folded my large frame down, hunching my broad shoulders, tucking my chin. I made myself small. I surrendered the height advantage that nature had given me, the size that usually made people step out of my way on the sidewalk.
Effectively, I placed my throat within striking distance of the lamp.
The rattling sound of the shade stopped.
Tessa froze. The weapon didn't lower, but her aim wavered. Her chest was heaving, the oversized t-shirt she wore rising and falling in jagged, terrified gasps. The scent of her distress, sour blackberries, brine, and old paper, was so thick in the room it coated the back of my throat like emotional smoke.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, the words trembling. "Get up. Don't… don't do that."
"I’m not getting up, Tessa," I said.
I pitched my voice carefully. Not using the volume I used when arguing with sound engineers, nor the forceful projection I used for dramatic narration. I dropped into the bottom of my register, the sub-bass rumble that vibrated through sternums and floorboards. It was the voice that had paid for my apartment, my car, and my solitude. It was the voice that the internet called "The Anchor."
"You have the high ground," I said, keeping my hands open on my thighs, palms up. Empty. Harmless. "You have the weapon. You are in charge."
"You're lying," she spat, though her eyes darted to Anders, who was staring down at me with a mixture of shock and dawning realization. "You're trying to trick me. I know it. You… you broke in."
"We did," I agreed. I kept the rhythm slow, hypnotic. "We smashed your lock, invaded your space, and put our hands on you when you couldn't say no. You are absolutely right to want to hit us, Tessa. We’re the villains here."
Anders made a noise in his throat, a protest dying before it could be born. I shot him a look. A sharp, warning glare that silenced him instantly.Let me work.
