Chapter 111: Shattered Walls

I woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside the window, their melodies weaving through the early morning light. For a moment, I lay there, wrapped in the quiet comfort of the house. It was one of those rare moments when my mind wasn’t racing with what had to be done next, and I let myself enjoy it, however fleeting it might be.

London’s side of the bed was empty, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the sheets. He’d probably been up for hours already, incapable of sitting still for long. It was one of the things I admired about him—his constant drive. Still, I sometimes wished he’d take a moment to just be. Then again, I supposed that was something I needed to work on too.

Stretching, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and let my feet touch the cool wood floor. It grounded me, reminding me that today was another chance to figure out what came next. The past few days had been a strange mix of calm and chaos. Every time I thought we’d finally reached a place where we could breathe, something else would come up—a reminder that the fight wasn’t over yet.

Padding downstairs, I followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen. London stood by the counter, his back to me as he stared out the window. He held a mug in one hand, his other resting casually on the countertop.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice still thick with sleep.

He turned, a smile breaking across his face. “Morning. Coffee?”

“Always,” I said, crossing the room to grab a mug.

London poured the dark liquid, the steam curling in the air between us. “You sleep okay?”

I nodded, taking a sip before replying. “Better than I expected.”

He gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further. That was one of the things I appreciated most about him—he knew when to ask questions and when to let me come to him on my own.

We stood there in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional clink of our mugs against the counter. It was a simple moment, but it felt significant, like the calm before the next storm.

“Plans for today?” London asked, finally breaking the quiet.

I shrugged. “I was thinking about going into town, checking in with Mrs. Carmichael. See how the girls are doing.”

His expression softened. “You don’t have to shoulder all of that alone, you know.”

“I know,” I said, giving him a small smile. “But I need to. It helps me feel like I’m doing something, like I’m making a difference.”

He studied me for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “Just promise me you’ll take it easy. You’ve been running on fumes lately, and I don’t want you burning out.”

“I promise,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely sure I could keep it.

London didn’t push, instead finishing his coffee and setting the mug in the sink. “I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t have to,” I said quickly, though part of me was relieved at the offer.

“I know,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair. “But I want to. Besides, I’m not letting you wander around town without backup.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Truthfully, I appreciated his presence more than I wanted to admit.

The drive into town was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt comfortable rather than strained. London had the radio tuned to some classic rock station, the music playing softly in the background as we passed fields and forests.

When we reached the safe house, Mrs. Carmichael greeted us with her usual warmth. The girls were in the living room, scattered across the mismatched furniture as they worked on crafts or talked in hushed tones.

Tasha looked up as we entered, her face lighting up when she saw me. “Milli!”

I crouched down as she ran over, wrapping her small arms around my neck. “Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at me. “I made something for you.”

She ran back to the couch, grabbing a small bracelet made of colorful beads. When she returned, she slipped it over my wrist, the plastic beads clicking softly as they settled into place.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my throat tightening with emotion.

“It’s a friendship bracelet,” Tasha explained. “So you don’t forget me.”

I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “I could never forget you, Tasha. You’re stuck with me, okay?”

She grinned, and for the first time, I saw a glimpse of the carefree child she must have been before everything.

As the day went on, I helped the girls with their crafts and listened to their stories, offering what comfort I could. London stayed nearby, his presence steady and reassuring.

When it was time to leave, I hugged each of the girls, promising to come back soon. As we walked to the car, London slipped his hand into mine.

“You’re good at this,” he said softly.

“At what?”

“Being there for them. Giving them hope.”

I looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making my chest ache. “I’m just doing what I wish someone had done for me.”

He nodded, squeezing my hand gently. “Well, it’s working.”

As we drove back home, I felt a strange sense of peace settle over me. The road ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time, I felt like I wasn’t walking it alone. London was right—we were making a difference, one small step at a time. And for now, that was enough.