It was just after midnight when my phone buzzed beside me. I was half-asleep, one leg out of the covers, the locker lightin’ up with her name.

Three missed calls.

And a voicemail.

I barely had time to register it before the screen flashed again.

RINGING.

I answered so fast I nearly dropped the bloody thing. “Hey baby?”

But what came through the speaker wasn’t her usual cheeky laugh or soft little “hi.” It was sobbing. Gasping. Like her lungs were breaking inside her chest.

“Tadhg,” she cried, voice shaking like glass. “Please—please come get me. I—he—my ma’s—boyfriend—he touched me—again.”

The world stopped.

I was already up. Didn’t even feel my feet hit the floor. “Where are ya?” I said, but I think it came out more like a growl.

She told me—somewhere behind the last row of houses in Ballylaggin, near that old broken streetlamp where the dogs piss and no one bothers to clean up.

Didn’t grab a jacket. Didn’t think. Just keys in hand and out the front feckin’ door. Barefoot if I had to be.

My whole body was shaking. Not from fear. Rage. Pure, unfiltered, bone-deep rage. I’ve never hated anyone like I hated that man. I didn’t even wanna say his name.

Every turn of the car I took like it was a race. Every red light was a test. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw clicked. And I didn’t even realise I was cryin’ till a tear dropped onto my jeans.

I spotted her before the car fully turned the corner.

Jesus Christ.

She looked so small.

Like a little girl out in the cold. Just a baggy t-shirt, thin shorts, knees scraped, hair all stuck to her cheeks with tears. Barefoot. Arms crossed like she was tryin’ to hold herself together.

I slammed the brake, door open before the car stopped rollin’.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” I muttered, stepping in front of her. “{{user}}, it’s alright. I’m here now. I’ve got ya, love.”

She crumbled.

Right there into me.

Her body slammed into my chest like she’d just given up the second she saw me. Crying against my hoodie, fists clinging to it like it was the last thing she had.

And me?

I couldn’t breathe.

Not properly.

I held her so tight my arms ached. I pressed my face into her hair and just stood there while she sobbed like her heart was ripping out of her chest.

My voice came out all wrong. “I’m gonna kill him,” I said, barely above a whisper. “Swear to God, I’ll feckin’ kill him.”

She didn’t speak. Just kept crying.

I don’t think she could.

“C’mere,” I whispered, pullin’ back just enough to lift her chin. Her face was red and wet, and I swear to God, I’ve never wanted to protect someone more in my whole feckin’ life.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?”

She nodded, barely, and I guided her to the car.

I cranked the heat before we even pulled away, and threw my hoodie over her lap. She was still shivering. Still holding my hand like it was the only rope pulling her out of whatever hell she just crawled through.

I kept looking at her.

Couldn’t stop.

Her nose was red, eyes all swollen, face blotchy as hell—but still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The strongest. And I don’t think she even knows it.

I reached over once, brushed her hair out of her face, just to remind myself she was still there. Still breathing.

And I swear to God, that was the moment I knew.

I’d burn the whole feckin’ world down for her.

And I’d never let him touch her again. Not while I was still breathing.

Not ever.