Page 171 of Joker

Because it makes it real. Because “at all times” is the kind of phrase you only need when the danger is already in motion.

I hate that too. But hate doesn’t change reality. Planning does.

So I keep holding her while the fear settles into something she can survive. While her breathing evens out. While the shaking in her shoulders eases. While she slowly starts coming back into herself enough to stand without all the weight of it crushing her.

Eventually, she tips her head back enough to look at me again. Her eyes are still red around the edges. Still scared. Still fierce enough to cut. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

That gets my full attention immediately. “For what?”

“For bringing this here.” The words are so soft they almost don’t register.

Almost.

Then they hit, and something in me goes instantly mean. Not at her. Never at her. At the thought.

At the fact that somewhere, somehow, some rotten part of what Cal did to her is still alive enough to make her think she’s the thing that spreads damage instead of the thing that survived it.

I cup her jaw harder. Not painful. Just enough to make sure she can’t look away from me when I say this. “You don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

Good.

I need her listening. “You didn’t bring danger here,” I say, voice low and deadly enough that every word lands like a stone. “Danger followed you because it doesn’t know when to die.”

Her breath catches.

I don’t stop. “And if it was dumb enough to follow you to me?” I say. “That’s its fucking problem now.”

That one lands. I can feel it. Can see it. Not because it magically fixes anything.

It doesn’t.

But because she believes me. At least a little. At least enough. And for now, enough is all I need.

Outside the room, I can hear faint movement in the hallway. Life still happening. The clubhouse still breathing. Somebody laughing too loud two doors down.

Normal.

It almost sounds ridiculous compared to the way the world just tilted in here. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s the thing I need to remember more than anything else right now.

This life is still here. This room. This woman. That little girl down the hall probably currently trying to convince Amy that Bunny deserves his own juice cup.

They’re still here. Still mine to protect. Still breathing. Still reachable.

And I’ll kill before I let that change.

Raven’s fingers loosen in my shirt eventually.

I brush my thumb once more under her eye and ask quietly, “You with me?”

She nods. “Yeah.” It’s shaky. But real.

I believe her.

Then, because she needs grounding and I need to put my hands on something that reminds me what exactly I’m protecting before I go back into strategy mode and become the version of myself that knows how to turn fear into violence if it has to, I lean down and kiss her.

Slow. Not heated. Not demanding. Just steady. Solid. A promise, more than anything else.