Fight or flight.

When it comes to your safety, he doesn’t even consider the latter.

He stands in the bedroom, among the unconscious intruders, the echo of your scream still lingering in his ears. His body thrums from rage-fueled adrenaline, eyes wild with fury.

Your muffled whimper shatters his hyperaware state, forcing him to reorient to you.

"Love, it’s… it’s okay now," he whispers, his bloodied hand outstretched towards you... silently begging that you won't recoil in fear.