<b>Chapter </b><b>72 </b>
Noahughs, dark and low.
“Oh, <b>we </b>will, little warrior.<b>” </b>
And they do, oh fuck, they do.
<b>Noah </b>
The fire in her eyes hasn’t gone out. t’s dulled now<b>, </b>banked like coals, but it’s still there, glowing under the surface as I help her up from the table. She’s trembling<b>, </b>but not from pain…The exhaustion<b>, </b>the revtions, the weight of what she uncovered beneath Tris. Xavier presses a kiss to her temple and mutters something about checking in with Levi and Haiden. He disappears into the hall, and suddenly it’s just me and her. Envy Jeans into me more than she probably means to. She won’t ask to be held, never does, but I do it anyway. Her arms are loose around my shoulders as I lift her up bridal–style. Gods<b>, </b>she’s soft and warm and still buzzing with power under her skin. Even worn out and half–undressed, she’s lethal, beautiful, and she’s ours. She doesn’t speak as I carry her through the halls toward our room. The silence between us <b>is </bfortable in a way that lets her rest her head against my chest and let her walls fall a little. Just for a moment.
“I should shower,” she murmurs.
kiss the crown of her head. “Bath’s better.<b>” </b>
She raises a brow but doesn’t argue.
The ensuite is already warm from the heated floors when I <b>carry </b>her in. The oversized soaking tub is built for people like us<b>, </b>fast–healing, high- stress wolves who need recovery to be more than just physical. I set her down gently on the stone bench beside it and turn on the <b>taps</b><b>, </b>letting the water rise with a blend of mineral salts and something minty and calming Aleisha left behind weeks ago.
Envy watches me in silence as I peel her remainingyers off. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. There’s no shame between us. No pretending.
<b>“</b><b>You’re </b>hovering,” she says softly.
<b>“</b>I’m watching over you.”
“That’s<b>… </b>annoyingly sweet.”
I grin and offer her a hand “Come on, little Luna<b>.</b><b>” </b>
She <b>lets </b>me guide her into the water. <b>It </b>climbs <b>over </b>her legs, then her waist, and she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years. When I kneel behind her at the edge of the tub, she leans back between <b>my </b>knees without being asked. My hands <b>go </b>to work, slow circles over her shoulders<b>, </b>her arms<b>, </b>fingers threading through her wet hair like I’m winding her back down to earth. She melts under my touch.
Her voice is barely audible<b>, </b>“I think I’m scared.”
I pause. “Of what<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Of who I’m bing.”
I <b>rest </b>my cheek against the top of <b>her </b>head, wrapping my arms around her from behind, letting her sink deeper into my chest. “Then don’t do it alone. Let us help carry it. All of it.”
Her fingersce with mine beneath the water. “I don’t want to need anyone.”
“But you do. And it’s okay that you do.”
She doesn’t reply. But she doesn’t let go.
When the water starts to cool, I dry her off gently <b>and </b>lift her again, cing <b>her </b><b>on </b>the edge of the bed. I tug one of my shirts over her head, baggy<b>, </b><b>soft</b>,pletely swallowing her frame. It smells like <b>me</b>, and she doesn’tin. <b>As </b>I tuck the nkets up around her, she watches me with hooded eyes<b>. </b>
I brush my knuckles across her cheek. “I’ll be <b>back </b><b>soon</b><b>, </b>okay? Get some rest.
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