Elena's POV
He didn't speak after that.
Just drove.
But I could feel it—how tense he was. How ready to explode for me.
We turned off the main road. Gravel crunched under the tires. A long stretch of silence.
Then the car slowed.
He parked.
We weren't at Julian's.
Not yet.
"Where are we?"
"My place," Callum said. "Just for a minute."
He stepped out.
I followed, silent.
Inside, it was warm. Familiar. The scent of coffee and laundry detergent wrapped around me like memory.
I stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, still trembling.
Callum came back with a blanket. Draped it over my shoulders like I might fall apart.
"Sit," he said gently.
I did.
He sat beside me, close enough to share his warmth, but not too close.
"You're safe now," he said. "He's not going to touch you again."
I looked at him. "You always say that."
"Because I mean it. Every time."
I smiled. Weak. Grateful.
"I'm sorry you had to come get me," I whispered.
