Amber
As soon as Ian was certain I could stand without collapsing, he quietly led me inside.
The moment the door closed behind us, the world finally went still.
No more growls, no more tension thick enough to choke on. Just Ian’s solid presence beside me, guiding me with gentle hands toward the living room.
He helped me sit down on the couch, his movements tender, careful like I was made of glass.
“Are you alright?” Ian asked softly, crouching in front of me, concern etched into every line of his handsome face. “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “No. I’m okay.” My hands were still trembling slightly from the hormonal rush, but I forced a small smile. “Thanks to you.”
He exhaled, visibly relieved.
“I’m just glad I got here when I did,” he said, sinking down beside me. He stayed close, but not smothering, giving me space without pulling away completely. “What happened, Amber?”
I stared down at my hands in my lap, picking at an invisible thread on my jean
