Short chappy, too lazy to attach it to the last chapter.
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"Finally home..." I whispered, exhaling as the familiar shape of our driveway came into view. Elara killed the engine and practically jumped out, and I followed her lead, legs heavy but moving on instinct.
She unlocked the front door, and the second we stepped inside, I spotted Mom knocked out on the couch—exactly where she always ended up after pretending she "wasn't tired." I huffed a small laugh... until I remembered I was still covered in blood.
Elara's eyes widened. "Christ, Bella—go shower. Before she wakes up. Move. I need one after you."
She shoved me toward the bathroom.
"Can you pass me my towel?" I asked, already stripping off my ruined shirt.
She snatched one from the room and tossed it over. I caught it, slammed the door shut, cranked the shower on, and stepped under the icy water. The cold hit me like shock therapy, numbing everything—skin, nerves, thoughts.
About ten minutes later, I finally stepped out of the shower, the last streaks of dried blood and sweat swirling down the drain like they'd never been part of me. My skin stung from all the scrubbing, but at least I felt human again—clean, light, almost... new.
I wrapped the towel around myself and pushed open the bathroom door.
Elara was already there, leaning against the wall like she'd been standing guard the whole time. Her hair was a mess, her clothes stained just like mine had been, but she still held a fresh towel in her arms, waiting.
She looked up the second I stepped out, concern flickering beneath my exhaustion.
"Is Mom still knocked out?" I whispered.
Elara nodded. "Didn't even twitch."
I let out a long yawn I'd been holding back, the kind that makes your whole body sag, and brushed past her toward our bedroom. My muscles felt heavy, warm from the shower, begging for sleep. The moment I stepped inside, the familiar dark scent of our room hit me—detergent, old candles, comfort. My sanctuary after the chaos.
I closed the door behind me and let the towel slip loose around my shoulders, finally feeling like I could breathe.
My eyes instantly landed on Noah.
There he was—our boy, our love—curled up in the blankets like he was trying to disappear inside them. His fingers were still bandaged, still swollen, still aching... but they'd heal. They had to.
His head rested on one pillow while his arms clutched another like it was the only thing anchoring him to this world.
God, he needed us so badly.
I didn't bother grabbing clothes. I didn't even think. I just slipped into the bed beside him, careful not to jostle him too hard. The second my body met his, he melted into me—instinctively, unconsciously—like his sleeping self recognized me before his waking mind ever could.
His arms slid around my waist, weak but certain, and he tucked his face against my chest, breathing soft warm puffs against my skin. His snoring was barely audible... a delicate, broken contrast to Elara's earthquake-level snoring.
"I love you, Noah," I whispered into his hair.
And as if the words sank through whatever dream he was lost in, he murmured back, voice slurred and sweet, "I love you..."
My heart cracked open. My hands found the ridge of his spine, thin and fragile under my fingertips, and I rubbed slow circles. His small frame, his gentle breathing—everything about him was so heartbreakingly soft. I could hold him forever. I wanted to hold him forever.
"I killed for you, Noah..." I whispered into the crown of his head, kissing him again and again. "That's how much I love you."
A few minutes later, the door creaked open and Elara stepped inside, also completely bare, not caring about modesty or anything except closing the distance between her and her boy.
She slipped into bed behind him and wrapped herself around his back, her arms locking him in safely between us. Her head rested on the nape of his neck, her breath warm against his skin.
"Goodnight, Elara," I breathed. "Goodnight, Noah. I love you."
I shut my eyes, letting the exhaustion finally drag me under.
"Goodnight, Bella... goodnight Noah... I love you," Elara murmured sleepily.
And just like that—after dismembering a woman, after the blood and adrenaline and shaking hands—we drifted into sleep like it was any other night, with our boy held safe between us.