She didn't answer. She couldn't.
Instead, she cried harder, her entire body wracked with sobs, her nails digging into my skin through the fabric of my shirt as if I were the only thing keeping her from drowning. Her breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, her tears hot against my skin, her voice a broken litany of "No—" and "Please—" and "It's not fair—"
I held her tighter.
I let her scream.
I let her shatter.
Because right now, in this moment, she wasn't a cop. She wasn't a fighter. She wasn't the woman who never bent, who never broke.
She was just Sarah.
And she was falling apart in my arms.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head, my voice a dark, trembling promise. "I swear to you, Sarah…" My hands clenched into fists in her hair, my entire body vibrating with the force of my rage. "I will find out who did this. And when I do, I will make them beg for death before I let them have it."
