Chapter 60 Reassurance

Chapter 60 Reassurance
Marc’s Point of View

The room was quiet, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm light over the space, but the silence wasn’t peaceful. It was heavy, like the calm before a storm. Cole sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, his tension palpable even in the subdued light. I stood near the dresser, absently folding the shirt I had discarded earlier, my eyes fixed on Lucienne. She stood near the window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared into the night.

My fingers moved methodically, smoothing out the fabric of the shirt, creasing it along lines I didn’t care about but couldn’t stop obsessing over. Fold the sleeve inward. Match the edges perfectly. Smooth again. The shirt had already been folded three times, but it gave my hands something to do, a way to release the restlessness building in my chest.

Cassius was pacing in my mind, his agitation bleeding into my every thought. “Comfort her. Go to her. Hold her.” His growls rumbled low, demanding action, but I ignored him. Not because I didn’t want to do those things—Goddess knew I wanted nothing more—but because I couldn’t risk doing the wrong thing. Not when she was already so fragile. I gripped the shirt tighter, the fabric bunching slightly as I fought to focus on the folds, not the aching need to go to her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cole glance at me, his expression unreadable but knowing. He wasn’t doing much better, but at least he had found stillness. My stillness came in the form of this damn shirt. It was ridiculous. Folding a shirt wasn’t going to fix anything. It wouldn’t stop the hurt radiating from Lucienne in waves, and it wouldn’t make me feel any less helpless.

She shifted slightly, the movement catching my attention. My hands stilled, the shirt half-folded. Her arms tightened around herself, her fingers digging into her sides as though holding herself together. My chest clenched at the sight. She was so strong—Goddess, so strong—but even steel could crack under enough pressure.

For a moment, I paused, gripping the folded shirt like it was a lifeline. This wasn’t just about giving her space. It was about giving her the control she so desperately needed after everything that had been taken from her. If she needed to stand there all night, wrapped in her thoughts, then I would stand here, folding and refolding the same damn shirt, until she was ready.

Cole’s quiet voice broke the silence, low and soothing. “Marc, you’re going to wear that shirt out if you keep folding it like that.”

I glanced at him, his slight smirk not enough to hide the concern etched into his features. “Better the shirt than…” I let the words trail off, not finishing the thought.

He nodded, understanding without me having to explain. His gaze flicked back to Lucienne, and I followed it. She hadn’t moved, focused on the darkness outside the window.

Her silence had been unnerving. Though she’d started to smile again during the day and even laughed with her siblings, the quiet moments like this revealed the turmoil she was still trying to mask.

“Luce,” I said softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned her head slightly, her profile illuminated by the dim light of the bedside lamp, but she didn’t fully look at me. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, a telltale sign of her unease. “Hmm?”

“Come to bed,” I said, keeping my tone gentle.

Her hesitation was immediate, her arms tightening around herself, telling me everything I needed to know. Her eyes flicked between mine and the bed, her brows knitting together in uncertainty and apprehension. “I… I will, in a minute,” she murmured, her voice so quiet I barely caught it. My wolf, Cassius, stirred restlessly in my mind, repeating that he wanted to pull her into our arms and chase away whatever haunted her. But I knew better than to push.

Cole lifted his head, his eyes meeting mine briefly. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, careful not to crowd her. Standing, he approached Lucienne cautiously, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Lucienne, you don’t have to force yourself. You don’t have to be scared, love,” he said, his voice low and soothing, but the undercurrent of concern impossible to miss.

“I’m not scared,” she replied quickly, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

I stepped closer, keeping some distance to avoid overwhelming her. “Lucienne,” I murmured, my gaze fixed on her. “It’s okay to be scared. After everything you’ve been through, it’s… normal.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she glanced between us. “I know,” she whispered. Her head dropped, and she let out a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling,” she admitted quietly. “I just… I don’t want to ruin this. Ruin us.”

My heart ached at her words, the vulnerability in her tone cutting deeper than I was prepared for. I pushed off the bed and moved toward her slowly, giving her the space to pull away if she needed to. “Luce,” I said gently, crouching at her eye level. “You could never ruin us. There’s nothing you could say or do that would change the way we feel about you.”

Cole reached out, brushing his fingers against her arm in a soft, reassuring touch. “You don’t have to figure it out all at once,” he said. “We just want you to be comfortable. Whatever you need, we’ll give it to you. No expectations. No pressure.”

She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to Cole before settling back on me. “It’s not that simple,” she said, trembling. “You don’t know what they—” She cut herself off, her hands curling into fists.

Cole rose from the bed and stepped beside me, his expression soft but determined. “You don’t have to tell us everything right now,” he said, his voice a soothing rumble. “But you do need to know that you’re safe with us. Always.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his, the uncertainty in her gaze cutting me to the core. “I don’t want you to think I don’t… I mean, I want to…” She trailed off, biting her lip as her cheeks flushed with frustration.

I reached for her hand, hesitating momentarily before brushing my fingers against hers. “You set the pace, Luce. We’re not here to push or expect anything from you,” I assured her. “We just want you to feel comfortable, to feel safe.”

Her shoulders trembled as she exhaled, her gaze flicking toward the bed again. “It’s not you,” she said after a long pause. “It’s me. That sounds stupid. I don’t know how to stop… feeling like I’m still there.”

Cole knelt beside her, his hand resting lightly on her knee. “That’s okay,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “Healing doesn’t happen overnight. It’s not something you have to do alone either.”

Her lips quivered as she looked at him, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. Instead, she gave a shaky nod and whispered, “I don’t know how to start.”

I stepped closer, bridging the gap, brushing my thumb over her knuckles. “Luce, look at me. You just did,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “And that’s enough for now.”

She turned to face me fully, her arms still wrapped around herself protectively.

“There’s no timeline for this,” I said firmly. “No rush, no need to explain yourself. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s valid. We’re here, no matter what. Even if all you want is to lie down and sleep, that’s enough for us. You’re enough for us.”

Her lips parted, and for a moment, I thought she might cry. But Lucienne, being Lucienne, blinked back the tears, straightening her shoulders.

“I just… I don’t want to be weak,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cole made a low, disbelieving sound in his throat. “Weak? You’re the farthest thing from it, love. Surviving what you’ve been through? That’s strength. Goddess! You fought your way out to us. Letting us be here for you? That’s strength, too.”

I nodded, stepping closer until I could gently cup her cheek in my hand. “You don’t have to carry this alone, Lucienne. Whatever it is—whatever happened—we want to share the weight. You don’t have to protect us from it.”

Her eyes glistened, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s not about protecting you,” she murmured. “It’s… it’s about not wanting to relive it.”

My chest tightened at her words. She was holding so much inside, and the thought of her suffering in silence made me want to tear Rodney apart.

“Then you don’t have to,” I said softly. “Not until you’re ready. And when you are, we’ll be here to listen. To hold you. To fight for you if that’s what you need.”

She let out a shaky breath, her posture softening slightly. “You two are impossible, you know that?”

Cole smirked, his hand brushing over hers. “It’s one of our best qualities.”

A small laugh escaped her, and though it was faint, it was enough to ease some of the tension in the room.

“We mean it, Lucienne,” I said, my voice steady. “We’ll follow your lead. You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. But whatever you need, whenever you need it, we’ll be here.”

Her gaze flicked between us, and after a long moment, she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly.

Cole extended his hand, his eyes locked on hers. “Come here. Not to bed, not for anything more than this—just let us hold you.”

She hesitated for a heartbeat before placing her hand in his. Cole stood, gently guiding her toward the bed. I followed, sitting beside her as she settled between us.

When she finally climbed into bed and lay between us, her tension seemed to ease slightly. I stayed close but careful, letting her feel the warmth of my presence without pressing too much. Cole did the same, his hand resting lightly on her back.

It wasn’t everything I wanted—to hold her tightly and chase away every shadow lingering in her mind—but it was enough for now. She was here, with us, and that was all that mattered.

“Goodnight, love,” I murmured, my voice barely audible in the quiet room.

“Goodnight,” she whispered back, her voice softer but steadier than before.

As her breathing evened out and sleep claimed her, I met Cole’s eyes over her head. We didn’t need to say anything. The unspoken promise hung in the air between us.