Page 142 of Flint’s Strike

“He needed Grace for his ceremony. He thought killing her would make him immortal. Fuckin’ loon. But me…” My fingers curl against Eliot’s shirt. “He said I’d be his fifth wife. Told me I wasn’t Parker anymore. Said a week in the Box and I’d be his forever.

“They stripped me of everything. My clothes. My boots. My name. Put me in a pink dress and locked me in that hellhole.

“I’ve faced down gang members from the wrong end of AK-47s. Been shot at half a dozen times. Ended two lives when there was no other choice. I knew I wouldn’t break. I’d find a way out. And if the worst happened… If AJ and Connor and Nate and Jasper couldn’t get to us… When Prophet let me out of there, I’d break his goddamn neck.

“But then the sound started.”

Eliot covers my hand with his. The warmth settles me enough to keep going.

“It was everywhere. In my head. In my bones. This constant vibration at the right frequency ripping me apart. I couldn’t think. I tried. So many times. ‘I’m Parker Elmore. I’m still me.’”

Somewhere far away, I know Eliot’s still with me. But I can barely feel him now.

“Time didn’t mean a thing in the Box. The lights never dimmed. It was cold, I remember that. Nothing else. Just the sound. And the moment Parker slipped away.”

A tear reaches my jaw. I feel the weight of it. The wobble. How it tries to hold on against gravity. And when it loses, the sensation is enough to bring me back.

“Grace…God, she was so fucking brave. Couldn’t talk, but managed to convince Prophet’s father to help both of us. He found this rusty metal bar and wedged it between two of the floorboards.

“At first, I thought I was imagining the damn thing. It was so bright, I could barely see. Took me the better part of a day to hack at the fabric and the boards until I had a hole big enough to squeeze through.

“Prophet had already started his batshit ceremony. Poisoned Grace. Tied her down. He was about to stab her…when the guys showed up. Along with a Mexican cartel they’d convinced to help them.”

I shake my head, still amazed at what they were able to pull off.

“Grace got herself loose, but Prophet wasn’t about to let the chaos stop him. He grabbed her, had a knife at her throat. I didn’t think. Tore a strip from that godawful dress, wound it around one end of the bar, and shoved it into the flames around the altar. Once it caught, I set Prophet on fire.”

Eliot’s entire body tenses. Shit. Did I send him back to the worst day of his life? Then his thumb moves against my shoulder. His breathing steadies.

Finish it.

“He still didn’t go down. So I swung the bar at his head and took out his eye. AJ shot him. The rest…that was all on the news.”

Eliot lifts my hand from his chest, and brings my fingers to his lips. The gentle kiss is almost too much to bear.

“I’m the one people go to in an emergency, Eliot,” I whisper. “I hold it together. Always. But I couldn’t back there.” The tears come faster now. “Grace spent three years waiting for Prophet to kill her. He put her in that box twice. For days. And she survived. Even after she lost her memory, she was still Grace. And I broke in hours.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, as if somehow, that will make my next words easier.

“I should have been able to hold on. To ignore the noise, the light, the cold… I thought I was strong. But when it mattered most, I didn’t just break. I gave up.”

“Parker…” His voice is little more than a whisper. Strong in a way that doesn’t need to be loud.

“No. Don’t. I need you to understand… I can’t stop wondering if the next time I’m afraid, the next time I’m in a situation I can’t control, I’ll lose myself again. And if that happens…I don’t know that I’ll ever find my way back.”

Eliot doesn’t tell me I’m wrong. That I won’t break. That I survived. He doesn’t say anything at all for a while. Just holds me, our linked hands still resting over his heart.

“I see you, Parker. I see all of you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A single sob breaks free. There should be more. But I’m so tired, I can’t manage another.

“Can we…” I nod toward the bedroom. “Will you just hold me?”

He presses a kiss to my forehead, lets his lips linger there. “Always.”

I change into the AFD t-shirt I’m never giving back, while he strips down to his briefs.

Under the blankets, I settle against his bare chest, his arm around my waist, and our hands intertwined.