He swore he didn’t know. Didn’t have a clue. Not one bleeding sign. If Hughie had known, he would have killed the asshole before he ever got the chance.

Sitting in that courtroom, hearing your voice shake as you told your story, it felt like someone was carving Hughie open from the inside. His girl, his baby girl, stood up there with tears streaming down your face, telling strangers how your sister’s boyfriend put his filthy hands on you when you were just a child. Hughie wanted to roar. Wanted to break the bench in front of him. But he sat frozen, jaw locked, every word slicing into him.

And then they showed the pictures. Jesus Christ. Hughie thought his stomach would heave right onto the floor. You were so small. So feckin’ small. And he hadn’t seen. He should have seen. He should have saved you.

His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms till he bled, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shaking. The rage boiling through him was too much. Hughie couldn’t hear another second. Couldn’t watch you break in front of those people while he just sat there.

Before Hughie knew it, he was on his feet. Chair scraping loud against the floor, heads turning, whispers flying. He didn’t care. Hughie stormed out the courtroom, chest heaving, breath stuck in his throat like he was drowning. The walls closed in on him in the hallway, his legs pacing fast, hands dragging through his hair.

Guilt. That’s all he felt. Guilt so heavy it pressed down on his ribs till they ached. Hughie should’ve protected you. He should’ve known. He should’ve been there. But he wasn’t. And now you were standing up there alone, carrying scars Hughie couldn’t even begin to heal.

Hughie pressed his forehead against the cold wall, breathing hard. His chest burned, eyes stung. He wanted to smash everything in sight. Put his fist through the plaster. Find him, that bastard, and rip him apart with his bare hands. But none of it mattered. Because it already happened. Because Hughie already failed.

Then he heard the doors burst open.

“Where the hell is he?” Your voice cracked, desperate and broken. “He left? He just left?”

The sound gutted him. Hughie spun around, and there you were—running, tears flooding your face, mascara smeared, eyes wide with disappointment. You thought Hughie abandoned you. Thought he couldn’t stand to look at you. Christ.

“Aurora,” Hughie breathed, the word ripping out of him like it cost him blood.

You froze. For a second, it was just the two of you in that corridor, the noise of the court muffled behind the doors.

Hughie stumbled forward, closing the gap between you, his hands reaching before his head could catch up. His arms wrapped around your body tight, pulling you in like he’d never let you go again.

“I thought—you left,” You gasped against him.

“Never,” Hughie choked out, pressing his face into your hair. “Never, baby. I just—” His voice cracked. He had to swallow hard. “I couldn’t watch you hurt again. I couldn’t breathe. But I’ll never leave you.”

“I hate him,” You whispered fiercely. “I hate him for what he did to you. And I hate myself for not knowing.”