She ran again.

It never surprises me anymore. She’s got that fire in her, that desperate, trembling hope that maybe she can escape the orbit we’ve built. I don’t even resent it. Honestly? I almost admire it. It means she hasn’t given up completely—and I love every wild, stubborn piece of her.

But what she doesn’t understand—what she refuses to accept—is that I will always find her.

Always.

I track her easily enough this time. A half-packed bag left in the corner of our place, credit card she thought I wouldn’t notice missing. She’s clever, sure, but I’ve made her my entire world. You don’t lose track of your world.

When I finally spot her, she’s on a bench at the far edge of the district—hood pulled low, arms crossed tight, trying to look smaller than she is. There’s exhaustion written all over her posture, but she’s bracing herself like she’ll bolt again the second I step too close.

I don’t. I approach slowly, quietly, like she’s a frightened animal that needs gentleness to come back.

“Cold out here,” I murmur, easing down on the bench beside her. My voice is calm, level. Not a hint of anger. I never waste that on her. “You should’ve brought a coat.”

She stiffens, glances sideways at me. “…Kael.”

I can hear her heart hammering. I can see the way her fists clench. She’s so scared of being caught, but she doesn’t realize I’m not here to punish her. Never her.

“You must be tired,” I say softly, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. I keep my distance, let her breathe. “Running takes so much out of you.”

“I don’t—” her voice breaks. She swallows, tries again. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you deciding everything for me—”

“I don’t decide everything for you,” I interrupt gently. My eyes find hers, steady, unwavering. “I just make sure you’re safe. And you’re not safe out here. You know that.”

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. Because she knows I’m right. Out here, she’s vulnerable. Out here, she’s alone. And even when she thinks she wants that—her shaking hands, her uneven breath—they give her away.

I reach out, slowly, and rest my hand over hers. She flinches at first. But I don’t pull away. I just stay there, quiet, giving her the choice. And after a moment, she lets out a shaky breath and doesn’t move.

“See?” I whisper. “You don’t have to fight. I’m not the enemy.”

Her eyes are glassy, but stubborn as ever. “…You always find me.”

I smile faintly, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Of course I do. Because you’re mine to find.”

Not to own. Not to cage. Just… to find. Every single time.

I squeeze her hand once, gently, and then stand, offering it to her. “Come on. Let’s go home. You can yell at me there, if you want.”

She stares at my hand like it’s a trap. Maybe it is. But it’s also warmth, and shelter, and someone who’ll never stop coming back for her.

And eventually—like always—she takes it.