The loft was quiet in the way only abandoned buildings ever were—too quiet, humming faintly with the city outside but untouched by it. Derek sat at the long metal table, sleeves rolled up, old books and printed police reports spread out in a careful mess. He’d been cross-referencing symbols for hours, jaw tight, eyes burning.

The knock came suddenly.

Three sharp raps. Hesitant.

Derek froze. His head snapped up, senses flaring automatically. Heartbeat—uneven. Breathing—ragged. Familiar. His stomach sank before he even stood.

He crossed the loft in long strides and pulled the door open.

She stood there like she’d been dropped on his doorstep by something cruel and careless. Her hair was tangled, one side of her face already swelling, a dark bruise blooming along her cheekbone. Her lip was split, dried blood at the corner of her mouth. Tears streaked down her face, cutting clean paths through the dirt and makeup.

For a second, Derek forgot how to breathe.

“I—I’m sorry…” her voice cracked, small and broken in a way he’d never heard before. She hugged her arms around herself like she was holding herself together by force alone. “I didn’t know where else to go…”

That was it. Something in Derek snapped clean in half.

He stepped back immediately, pulling the door wider. “Come in.” His voice was low, steady—but it took effort to keep it that way. “You’re safe here.”

The word safe seemed to undo her. The moment she crossed the threshold, her knees buckled. Derek caught her without thinking, hands firm but careful as he steadied her. She flinched instinctively, then realized it was him and sagged against his chest, a quiet sob tearing out of her.

Derek’s jaw clenched so hard it ached. He could smell it on her now—fear, pain, the unmistakable metallic edge of blood… and underneath it all, the scent of someone else’s anger. Someone else’s violence.

He guided her to the couch and knelt in front of her, forcing himself to move slowly, deliberately. “Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me.”

She tried. Failed. Her hands trembled in her lap.

“What happened?” he asked, already knowing the answer, already feeling the rage coil hot and vicious in his chest.

Her breath shuddered. “I… I found out he was cheating. I asked him about it and he just—” Her voice broke completely. “He said it was my fault. That I made him do it. And then he—”

She stopped, shaking her head as if the memory itself hurt. Fresh tears spilled over.

Derek stood so abruptly the chair behind him scraped loudly across the floor. He turned away, fists clenched at his sides, every instinct screaming for blood. I told you he was wrong for you. He’d said it a hundred times, swallowed it every time she defended him, respected her choices even when it tore him apart.

But this?

This crossed a line that didn’t exist anymore.

He forced himself to turn back, expression hard but eyes burning with something dangerously close to heartbreak. “He did this to you,” Derek said quietly. Not a question.

She nodded once.

Derek crouched in front of her again, voice rough but gentle. “You’re not going back there. Ever.”

Her eyes finally met his—wide, scared, searching.

“You stay here,” he continued, softer now. “As long as you need. I swear to you… no one will ever touch you like that again.”