Page 146 of Safe Word

God, that honey-soaked voice.

‘Sorry for keeping you up so long.’

But he wasn’t sorry. And neither was I.

A slow smile crept over my lips, one he couldn’t see. I’d heard it all tonight: why he’d gone to the fighting ring, the things he believed about himself, the warped image he carried. He truly thought he was monstrous.

He didn’t even realise how wrong he was.

And I’d opened up, too – more than I ever had, even in therapy. I told him everything about Travis.

‘Any time,’ I said softly, my thumb brushing over the edge of my phone like it might reach him through static and space.

He didn’t hang up. Two breaths passed.

‘I know I’m not anyone that matters to you. But, for what it’s worth, you should be proud of yourself,’ I said.

The silence took over. As though the words landed somewhere deeper than either of us expected.

His voice softened, the edge giving way to something that felt almost dangerous. ‘Can you promise me something?’

‘What?’ I asked quietly, my heart beating faster in my chest.

‘Promise me you’ll ask for help if you need it,’ he said, his words measured but tone so focused I could almost feel his eyes burning through the line. ‘From me. Not the cops. Not anyone else – me.’

I hesitated, the intensity of his request winding around me and pulling tight.

He knew that the system was too complicated to offer the kind of protection I needed. He wasn’t just asking, he was demanding it, in that quiet, commanding way of his, as though he wouldn’t accept anything less than my agreement.

Because he had seen a second chance in my predicament – something that might bring him out of the horrors of his past. Perhaps saving me, the way he’d once tried to save his mother, was what he thought might set him free.

But I wasn’t his mum.

‘Cain…’ I wasn’t sure what to say to that. No one had ever said anything like that to me before.

‘Promise me, Paula,’ he interrupted, firm but not harsh. ‘Whatever it is. However bad. Call me. Me.’

The vulnerability in his words was subtle, barely hidden, but it was there. He wasn’t just offering; he was asking for something in return. Trust.

A lump curled in my throat. ‘Okay,’ I said finally, my voice cracking. ‘I promise.’

The dull silence on the other end of the line settled in my chest. But before it could stretch too long, I could almost hear his smirk.

‘That’s a good girl,’ he said.

And the words went straight to my core, completely dissolving the fear, the confusion and the warmth of salvation, only to replaced by a burst of something impossible.

Then he added louder in recovery, ‘Good. That’s good.’ A deep breath. ‘Now that we’ve got that settled,’ he said, his voice curling with dry amusement, ‘let’s not make a habit of you threatening me with a gun. If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask, not aim.’

I blinked. ‘What?’

He let out a low, mischievous chuckle that rolled down the line like sin. ‘The convention night.’

My cheeks flared so fast and hot I could’ve lit a bloody candle. ‘Oh God… I didn’t even apologise. I’m so sorry about that, I was—I mean, my defence mechanism is just—’

‘Paula,’ he interrupted. His tone gentler, but still amused. ‘Don’t change that defence mechanism. It should be there.’

I stilled. I wasn’t sure what that meant – not entirely. But something in his voice made me stop dissecting it.