Elias Pov

Andrea’s posture broke. The moment my hand touched her hair, the rigid, jerky movements stopped. She melted toward me, her forehead thudding softly against my chest as she leaned in. I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her close. She smelled of stale linens and heavy industrial soap, a scent that didn't belong on a Lawson.

"It’s okay," I whispered, my voice sounding thick. "I’m here. I’m not going to let them keep you in this room for long."

I felt her shoulders shake. She was sobbing, but it was silent, as if she had been trained not to make a sound. I patted her back, waiting. I...