Chapter 3

Detective Erik Johns’ POV

I stared intently at the photos on my desk: images of the crime scene at Miss Kim Blake’s home, and the pictures the doctor had taken of her injuries. As I examined them, my fists clenched involuntarily.

How could a father do something like this to his own daughter?

How does someone survive living in such a hell?

I knew the wounds on her body would heal—sooner or later. But the ones on her soul... those would stay, bleeding on the inside for the rest of her life.

I’ve been a cop for many years. I’ve seen horrors that would steal the sleep of any ordinary person. But this case hit differently. Her eyes when she asked me if her father was dead... they haunted me. It wasn’t a question born of fear—but of deep desperation, like she couldn’t believe her nightmare had actually ended.

If that monster were still alive, I might’ve been the one to make sure he paid for everything.

— “Sir, what are we doing with Kim Blake? It’s been two weeks since she was hospitalized, and the doctor has cleared her for transfer,” said the officer who had just stepped into my office.

I turned to him, and the cautious expression on his face told me he was just as uncomfortable with what we were about to do.

— “We’re bringing her in. She’ll stay under our supervision at the station until the case is closed,” I replied calmly, though my jaw was clenched.

The idea of putting her in custody—even temporarily—filled me with a fury I couldn’t contain.

This girl had been humiliated and abused her entire life, and now I had to lock her behind the bars of my own station. But protocol left no room for exceptions.

I grabbed my coat and headed for the hospital. I didn’t want to send anyone else. I knew she was ashamed, fragile, and I wasn’t going to add to her burden.

When I walked into her hospital room, Kim was sitting up in bed, propped against some pillows. She looked smaller than the last time I saw her. Her skin was pale, her gaze lost.

It was clear she had stopped trusting anyone—or anything.

I approached slowly, careful not to startle her.

— “Miss Blake, it’s time to transfer you. The doctors said you’re stable enough to leave the hospital.”

She lifted her gaze toward me, her wide eyes full of fear.

— “Where… where are you taking me?” she asked, her voice faint.

I sat in the chair beside her bed, trying to show her I wasn’t there to push or intimidate her.

— “Kim, we have to bring you to the station. It’s standard procedure. You won’t be kept in holding any longer than absolutely necessary. I want to assure you of that.”

She nodded slowly, but I could see how deeply disturbed she was by the thought.

— “I don’t want to… to be behind bars. I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, her voice trembling with the weight of unshed tears.

— “I know, Kim. Believe me—I know. But it’s a necessary part of the legal process. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure you don’t stay there any longer than needed.”

I saw the tears welling in her eyes, but she held them back, refusing to cry in front of me.

— “Come on. Let me help you up.”

I extended my hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it.

I could feel how fragile she was as she leaned on my arm. We walked slowly together, and when we reached the car, I opened the door and helped her in.

When I saw her hesitate to fasten the seatbelt, I stepped forward.

— “Let me help you,” I said softly.

She nodded again, barely. I reached in carefully to buckle the seatbelt, keeping my movements slow and gentle so I wouldn’t frighten her.

As I clicked it in place and felt the space between us shrink, I was surprised at how tender my own touch had become.

I wasn’t the kind of man people usually found comfort in. But with her… it was different.

I closed the door and walked to the driver’s seat. As I started the engine, I turned slightly to look at her.

— “You’re safe, Kim. We’ll get through this together.”

She didn’t say anything, but her face looked just a little more at peace.

I pulled out of the parking lot, silently vowing to do everything in my power to get her the justice she deserved.

Kim’s POV

I stare at the bars in front of me—cold and impersonal. Even though I’m not in a real prison, just at Detective Johns’ police station, the feeling of captivity is the same.

The detective promised I wouldn’t stay here longer than necessary, and so far, he’s kept his word.

Still, the time I’ve spent here feels endless.

It’s been three days since I was placed in this cell, and today is the day when they’ll decide if I’m free or not.

I look down at my right hand, still wrapped in a cast, and I wonder what comes next.

Freedom. What does that even mean to me?

I can’t go back to the house I lived in with my father.

Just thinking about those walls makes me tremble.

I have no money, no place to go, not even a plan.

My entire life has been a chain of beatings and humiliation, and people always avoided me—like my bruises were contagious.

A police officer opens the cell door.

— “Miss Blake, please follow me,” he says politely.

I follow him in silence, my steps heavy and uncertain.

He leads me to Detective Johns’ office, then leaves, closing the door behind me.

The detective is seated at his desk, his expression serious.

He looks at me for a few seconds, then gestures for me to sit down.

— “Miss Blake, your case has been closed,” he says calmly.

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure he can hear it.

— “W-What does that mean?” I ask, my voice trembling.

— “It means the judge has ruled you innocent. You’re free to go. You’re free to start your life,” he says, folding his hands together and looking at me with a trace of compassion.

Tears stream down my face before I can stop them.

I try to thank him, but my voice is choked with emotion.

— “Thank you, Detective,” I manage to say at last, wiping my eyes with my sleeve.

He stands up from his chair, avoiding my gaze for a moment.

— “Are you going home?” he asks directly, catching me off guard.

— “I can’t,” I whisper. “It would be too... hard.”

There’s a strange silence, until his voice cuts through my thoughts.

— “You can stay with me until you get back on your feet,” he says simply.

I stare at him, stunned.

— “I don’t want to be a burden… We barely know each other. I can’t accept that,” I reply quickly, almost in panic.

— “I’m rarely home anyway, so you won’t be a burden. You need a safe place, and I can offer you one,” he says in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

— “Okay... Thank you, sir,” I murmur, still unsure.

The ride to his apartment is quiet. The detective drives calmly, and I stare out the window, trying to keep my emotions in check.

When we arrive, he opens the door for me and helps me out.

— “Come on, I’ll give you a quick tour,” he says, unlocking the apartment door.

The space is simple but comfortable.

A living room with a gray couch and a glass coffee table.

A small, tidy kitchen.

A bedroom at the end of the hallway, seemingly untouched.

— “You can use the bedroom. I usually sleep on the couch. The closet’s empty, so you have space for your things,” he says.

I look around, overwhelmed by his kindness.

— “Thank you, sir. You really didn’t have to do this.”

— “Kim, stop calling me ‘sir.’ You can call me Erik,” he replies, giving me a faint smile for the first time.

— “Alright... Erik,” I say softly, testing the sound of it.

— “Good. Now I have to head back to the station. I’ll check in from time to time to make sure everything’s okay. Take care of yourself,” he says, then leaves, shutting the door behind him.

I remain still for a few moments, looking around.

For the first time in my life, I feel safe.

And that... means more than anything else.