As they entered the apartment, Dylan gently carried Ember in his arms and laid her carefully on the bed. His touch was warm, protective, as if he feared she might shatter like glass. Ember's breath caught in her throat, but she said nothing, her heart beating louder than her voice.
"I'll order some food for you," he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Ember gave him a small nod, trying to sit up, but pain shot through her legs, and she winced. Dylan immediately put down his phone, his eyes narrowing with concern.
"Where are you going?" he asked, his tone low but commanding.
"I… I want to go to the washroom," Ember murmured, her voice barely a whisper, fragile.
Without waiting for a clearer response, Dylan stepped closer and looked into her eyes. "Let me take you."
She didn't argue. She didn't even nod. Maybe it was the pain in her body, or maybe… maybe it was the comfort of his presence that she didn't want to resist. A strange warmth bloomed in her chest.
Before she could think further, Dylan had already scooped her up again in his arms, bridal style. "Let's go," he whispered with a teasing grin, but the gentleness in his touch betrayed how much he truly cared.
He carried her to the bathroom and set her down with caution, steadying her with both hands. Ember leaned against the doorframe, her heart fluttering in a way it hadn't in a long time. As she stepped inside, Dylan remained just outside the door, refusing to leave her completely alone.
She looked back at him once—he winked, trying to lighten the moment—and for the first time in what felt like forever, a faint smile tugged at Ember's lips. But that smile faded the moment her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror.
It was the first time she had really seen herself since the incident. Her face looked unfamiliar, like a haunted version of the girl she used to be. Slowly, with trembling fingers, Ember removed her shirt, revealing the bruises etched across her skin like cruel reminders of the nightmare she couldn't escape.
She stared at them, horrified. Her fingers brushed against them, but it didn't feel like her own touch—it felt like his, the one who had violated her, stolen something she could never take back.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away.
Another came.
She wiped again—desperate, frantic.
But they kept falling.
"Stop it… please… why won't you stop?" Ember choked out, her voice cracking as her knees buckled.
She looked at her reflection again, and for a terrifying moment, it felt like her own image was speaking back to her.
"Ember… you're not pure anymore. Do you really think Dylan will still want you?"
"No!" she cried, stumbling toward the shower.
She turned on the water, letting it cascade over her broken body, desperate to wash away the invisible filth clinging to her skin. Her tears mixed with the water, vanishing before they could hit the ground—but the pain, the shame, they stayed.
She scrubbed and scrubbed, whispering to herself, "Get it off… get it off… please…" But nothing helped. No amount of water could erase what had been done.
Meanwhile, just outside the bathroom door, Dylan was on the phone, placing an order for food. His voice was steady, but his mind was with Ember. The sound of the shower running caught his attention, and a sudden wave of concern washed over him.
She can't take a shower in this condition… her bandages will get soaked.
His brows furrowed as he stepped closer to the door.
"Ember?" he called softly.
No answer.
"Ember… Ember!"
Still nothing—only the sound of water cascading onto tile, unbroken and unresponsive.
His heart began to pound. Something was wrong.
Dylan grabbed the doorknob and tried to twist it open. Locked.
Damn it.
Without hesitation, he rammed his shoulder into the door—once, twice—and on the third try, it gave way. He stormed inside, eyes scanning desperately… and then he saw her.
Ember was curled on the shower floor, trembling, drenched from head to toe. The water poured over her like icy sheets, soaking the bandages on her wounds, but she didn't care. She was scrubbing her skin relentlessly, as though trying to erase something that wasn't visible to the world—but burned like fire in her soul.
"Ember!" Dylan shouted, rushing to her side.
She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, her lips trembling. Her eyes were bloodshot, red from crying. Her voice cracked as she cried out, "Don't come closer!" Her arms wrapped around her chest, trying to cover herself—ashamed, afraid.
But Dylan didn't flinch. He knelt beside her, water soaking through his clothes as he reached for her gently.
"Ember, please… listen to me," he pleaded. "You'll hurt yourself if you stay in this water. Your injuries—"
"Dylan…" her voice barely escaped over the sound of the water.
He turned his full attention to her, his voice softening, "Yes, Ember. I'm here."
Her lips quivered. "I'm not pure anymore," she whispered, broken. "Look at me… they left their marks everywhere. How can you even stand to look at me?"
Dylan's eyes dropped to her bruised and battered skin. His heart clenched at the sight. Guilt crushed him like a weight—he hadn't been there to protect her when she needed him the most.
Ember's voice cracked again as she scrubbed her skin violently. "See? I keep trying to wash it off, but it won't go away. It's still here… it's still on me…"
Without a word, Dylan caught her hands mid-motion. "Stop it," he said firmly.
He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the cold water soaking them both. His grip was strong, unwavering. He held her like she was the most precious thing in the world.
"You're not dirty," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. "Don't treat yourself like something tainted. You're not impure, Ember. I don't care what happened—I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You are not alone. Ever."
But Ember pushed him away, tears burning in her eyes.
"Then look at me, Dylan!" she screamed. "Look at these bruises… these scars! How can you say I'm not dirty?"
Dylan's eyes locked with hers, fierce and unwavering. And then he stepped even closer, lifting her chin gently so she would meet his gaze.
"If these bruises are what make you feel dirty…" he whispered, his voice low and intense, "then let me show you what it means to be mine. Let me mark you with love, not pain. Let me rewrite every inch of you with care—so you'll never, ever feel filthy again."
His thumb brushed her cheek, wiping a tear away. The shower still poured over them, but in that moment, neither of them felt the cold. Only the heat of pain, love, and something unspoken yet powerful that tethered their souls.
Ember's lips parted, stunned by the fire in his eyes—the way he looked at her not with pity, but with reverence.
Could he really see her that way? Even now… even like this?
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. Because in Dylan's embrace, for the first time since the nightmare began, Ember didn't feel broken.
She felt seen.
She felt safe.
She felt… his.
Dylan looked at Ember—so fragile, so broken, yet still breathtaking in her pain. He couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, gentle at first… but then deeper, more desperate, more consuming. He kissed her as if trying to breathe life back into her soul, as if his touch alone could erase the torment she carried inside.
His mouth moved against hers, slowly at first, then deeper, his tongue tracing hers with heated need until she melted into the kiss—until the tension in her body dissolved, piece by piece. Ember clung to him, lost in the warmth of something that felt like safety… like home.
When he finally pulled away, breathless, his eyes darkened with something fierce and raw. He whispered against her lips, "You're mine, Ember."
He began to kiss along her neck, his lips finding the bruises that haunted her skin. One by one, he placed tender kisses over each one, tracing them with care—replacing the memories of pain with something gentler, something healing. When he came across the deepest bruises, his mouth lingered longer. He kissed them… then left soft love bites, his marks—his—to reclaim what had been taken from her.
"You're mine," he murmured again, the words filled with possessiveness, but not of control—of protection. Of devotion. He looked into her eyes, the passion in his gaze intense and unyielding.
"No one will ever hurt you again."
He kissed her again—this time deeper, fuller, until Ember gasped softly against him, her body trembling, but not from fear. For the first time in so long, it was from something else… something powerful. Something warm.
Dylan pulled back slowly, his thumb brushing her cheek, lingering on the damp skin. Then, wordlessly, he scooped her back into his arms with a tenderness that made Ember's heart ache. The shower still rained down over them, but he reached behind her and turned it off with one hand, never letting her go.
Wrapped in his embrace, Ember barely noticed the chill anymore. Dylan grabbed a soft bathrobe from the hook and gently wrapped it around her, shielding her body from the cold and the world. She tucked her face into his chest, and he carried her out of the bathroom like she was made of something too precious to ever be dropped again.
In the bedroom, he laid her down softly on the bed, the scent of soap and sorrow still clinging to the air. Dylan sat beside her, taking a towel and gently drying her damp hair with slow, careful strokes. Ember didn't speak—her silence wasn't resistance but vulnerability. Her cheeks flushed, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and she didn't meet his gaze.
He didn't press. He just kept running the towel through her hair with a quiet tenderness, as if he could soothe away all her wounds with every gentle touch.
Before long, her head tilted slightly, her eyes closed, and her breath softened. She had fallen asleep in his care.
Dylan smiled faintly, brushing a final strand of hair from her face. He leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and whispered,
"Sleep now, Ember. I'll keep you safe."
He gently laid her against the pillow, pulling the blanket over her, tucking it around her like a shield. Then he sat beside the bed, refusing to leave her side, watching over her like a silent guardian.
Dylan grabbed his phone and called Adrien, his voice low but urgent.
"Hey. Where are you? I need you here—now. Ember's bandages came undone."
"I'm downstairs," Adrien replied. "Coming up." Then the line went dead.
Dylan sighed, still soaked to the bone from the shower, his clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin. He was just about to change when a knock echoed from the door. He opened it to find Adrien staring at him in surprise.
"What the hell did you do this time?" Adrien muttered as he stepped inside.
Dylan didn't answer. He simply gestured toward the bedroom. "Just… check on her."
Adrien gave him a brief pat on the shoulder as he walked past. "You're soaked. Did you fall into the bathtub with her or something?"
"Let me change first," Dylan replied, brushing off the remark. "I'll explain after."
Adrien entered the room and paused beside the bed, his brows furrowing as he looked down at Ember. Her hair was damp, droplets still glistening against her cheeks. She was curled beneath the blanket, her breathing soft and uneven, like even in sleep she hadn't truly found peace.
Adrien leaned in, checking her bandages—and his expression immediately darkened.
"Her wounds are exposed. The gauze is practically useless now." Then, noticing the damp strands sticking to her face, he added, "Did she shower? Dylan, I told you she couldn't get those wet!"
Dylan, now pulling a dry shirt over his head, answered curtly, "Stop nagging and just treat her. I'll tell you what happened after you're done."
Adrien shot him a look. "You're turning into a real bastard, you know that? At least treat me like a doctor, not your maid."
Dylan smirked, "Okay, Doctor."
With a small shake of his head, Adrien rolled up his sleeves and began tending to Ember's injuries. First her head, then her shoulder. But as he gently peeled back the robe from her collarbone, his hands froze.
There, just above the healing bruises… were new marks. Fresh ones.
His gaze slid toward her neck. More.
He turned slowly to Dylan. "Did you… do this?"
Dylan stiffened, a light blush creeping onto his face. He didn't say anything at first, but his silence was answer enough.
"Unbelievable," Adrien muttered. "She's still recovering, and you leave bite marks like a wild animal? What the hell were you thinking?"
Dylan looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered. "She didn't stop me… she didn't say no…"
Adrien groaned. "That's not an excuse, you lovesick mutt. She's vulnerable—physically and emotionally. Have some damn restraint."
"Don't look at me like that," Dylan snapped, half-defensive, half-embarrassed. "You're the one with the judgmental eyes. And stop smirking—I can see it."
Adrien rolled his eyes. "Look in the mirror, Romeo. You're the one blushing like a teenager."
Dylan blinked. "Really? Let me check." He stepped toward the mirror to catch a glimpse of his own flushed reflection and immediately scoffed under his breath.
Adrien shook his head with a sigh and packed up the medical supplies.
"I'm done." He placed a small tube of ointment on the nightstand. "This—" he pointed at it, "—needs to be applied to her scars. Gently. Especially the ones on her shoulder and thigh. Don't mess this up. And Dylan…"
Dylan looked up.
Adrien's tone softened. "She needs your strength… not your passion right now. Be her shield. Not her fire."
Dylan nodded quietly, his eyes drifting back to the sleeping figure on the bed. Ember stirred slightly, her lips moving faintly in her sleep—as if searching for something.
I'm here, he thought. And I'm not going anywhere.
After checking on Ember one last time, Dylan gently closed the bedroom door behind him and stepped into the living room with Adrien. The weight of the day still hung thick in the air, tension clinging to his skin like humidity.
"Coffee or tea?" Dylan asked, running a hand through his damp hair.
Adrien sighed. "Tea."
Dylan paused, looking over his shoulder with a sheepish expression. "I only know how to make coffee."
Adrien arched a brow. "Seriously? Then why did you bother giving me a choice?"
"Oh… yeah." Dylan shrugged. "Force of habit."
Adrien let out a tired laugh. "You're unbelievable." But he took the coffee anyway, muttering, "Just give me whatever keeps me awake."
Dylan handed over the mug, and in the silence that followed, his expression shifted. The playful glint in his eyes faded, replaced by something heavy—something haunted.
"Adrien…" Dylan's voice dropped. "She's not okay."
Adrien stilled, the mug halfway to his lips.
"I found her in the shower," Dylan continued, his jaw tightening. "She was on the floor… shaking. Scrubbing at her skin like she could scrape the memory off. Her bandages were soaked. Her body was trembling. And when I called her name, she didn't even flinch at first. She just kept whispering… that she was dirty."
Adrien closed his eyes for a brief moment, then placed the coffee down slowly on the table. "So she had another."
Dylan nodded. "The second one today. You saw the first at the hospital. This time… it was worse." His voice cracked slightly. "I tried to hold her. I told her she was safe. That she wasn't dirty. But… she wasn't listening. She wasn't even looking at me. She was somewhere else entirely."
Adrien leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. "She's having panic attacks, Dylan. Severe ones. Two in one day… that's dangerous. But we have to remember—the incident happened just yesterday. That kind of trauma doesn't heal in hours. Or even days."
Dylan looked away, guilt flashing in his eyes. "I should've protected her. I should've been there."
"You can't change what happened," Adrien said firmly. "But you can be there now. And you are. She doesn't need a hero who shows up late. She needs someone who doesn't leave at all."
Dylan stayed quiet, the words hitting deeper than he expected.
Adrien continued, his voice softer now. "This isn't just about tending to bruises, Dylan. It's about the wounds no one sees. Ember was assaulted—or someone tried to. And that word, 'tried', it doesn't mean less pain. It doesn't lessen the fear. It's a word used to help the criminal escape consequences, not the victim find healing."
Dylan clenched his fists, his knuckles white.
"She needs time," Adrien said gently. "Time… patience… love. And not the kind that burns too hot. She needs the kind that stays warm even when everything feels cold. That's what only you can give her right now."
Dylan slowly nodded, the resolve growing in his eyes. "I understand. I'll be what she needs. I'll be careful."
Adrien smirked lightly, rising to his feet. "Yeah, well… just don't be too careful like earlier."
Dylan blinked. "What do you mean?"
Adrien gave him a pointed look. "You left love marks on her neck. The girl's still healing, and you're out here marking territory like a wolf."
Dylan turned crimson and ran a hand down his face. "She didn't stop me… I—"
Adrien waved it off, laughing softly. "Yeah, yeah. I'm not judging. Just… dial it back, Romeo. She needs a guardian right now. Not a seducer."
Dylan gave a small laugh under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, then looked toward the closed bedroom door.
"I'm not going to let her break," he said quietly. "Not again. Not while I'm here."
Dylan leaned back against the kitchen counter, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "She felt dirty… impure. I just… I just wanted to erase the bad marks with good ones." His voice dropped to a whisper, still lost in the thought of Ember's fragile trembling in the shower, and the way she'd clung to him without saying a word.
Adrien raised an eyebrow, snorting. "You're just trying to make me jealous now, aren't you?"
Dylan smirked. "Oh? You caught on a little late, doc."
"Asshole," Adrien muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Try joking a little less when a girl's literally recovering from trauma."
Before Dylan could reply, a loud thud echoed from the bedroom, followed by a piercing cry— "Ahhh!"
Both men froze.
Dylan's eyes widened. "Ember—!"
They rushed to the room. Dylan shoved the door open, and what they saw made his heart stop.
Ember was curled up in the corner of the room, trembling violently, her back pressed against the wall, wrapped in the blanket like it was her only shield from the world. Her hands were over her ears, and her eyes were wide with terror.
"Don't come closer!" she screamed, her voice shaking. "Don't touch me! Please—don't!"
Adrien flicked on the lights.
Dylan knelt down in front of her, but didn't reach for her. Not yet. His voice was soft. "Ember… it's me. It's Dylan. Look at me, sweetheart."
Her tear-filled eyes darted toward him, struggling to focus. Her body trembled like a leaf in a storm, but slowly—so slowly—she lowered her hands from her ears.
"Dylan…" she whispered.
He moved closer, gently placing his hands on either side of her face, his thumbs brushing away her tears. "Yeah, baby. I'm right here. And no one is here to harm you."
She sniffled, her voice trembling. "What if… what if they come back? What if it happens again?"
Dylan's heart cracked in his chest. He pulled her into his arms without hesitation, wrapping her tightly against him, as if his hold alone could keep the nightmares away. His voice was deep, protective, a soft growl of promise.
"They won't. Not while I'm breathing." He kissed the top of her head. "If anyone even dares to try… they'll have to go through me first. And trust me, they won't make it far."
She didn't speak, but the way her fingers clutched his shirt told him everything—she was still so scared. Still trapped in the memory of that night.
Her body was trembling violently again.
Dylan lifted her gently, like she was made of porcelain, and laid her back on the bed. He sat down beside her and took her hand, refusing to let go.
"Sleep, Ember. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered.
But Ember shook her head, tears pouring again from her wide, bloodshot eyes. "No… no, Dylan. If I close my eyes… it'll be dark again. I'll be alone… and they'll come again. I don't want to. Please…"
Her grip tightened painfully around his hand.
Adrien, still standing nearby, saw the tremors racking through her body—the pure terror written all over her face. He sighed heavily, his voice grim.
"That's her third panic attack today." He looked at Dylan. "I don't like giving meds this soon, but she needs rest. Her body's wearing itself out from the trauma. If you're okay with it, I'll give her something to help her sleep."
Dylan looked down at Ember, at her tear-streaked cheeks, at the way her body still trembled uncontrollably even in his arms. His heart ached for her. Slowly, he nodded. "Do it."
Adrien handed over a small bottle and said quietly, "This'll ease her into sleep. Just one. I'll wait in the living room."
Once Adrien was gone, Dylan turned back to Ember. He cupped her face again and kissed her forehead gently.
"Ember, baby… I need you to take this for me, okay? You need rest. You're safe now. I swear it."
Ember took the pill with a trembling hand. She didn't argue. Didn't ask questions. She trusted him. And maybe, in her heart, she knew he was the only safe place she had left.
He helped her lie down again, tucking the blanket around her. Her eyelids grew heavy, her breathing finally slowing. Just as the medicine began to take hold, her lips moved faintly.
"Dylan… please don't leave me… stay by my side. I love you."
Dylan felt his chest tighten, raw and warm all at once. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, leaned down, and kissed her gently on the forehead.
"I love you too, Ember," he whispered. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever."
As she drifted into sleep, Dylan stayed right there—watching, guarding, loving her in the quiet darkness that followed.