"N… nothing… I just… I want to go home," she insisted, her voice unsteady but stubborn.
"And I'm asking why, baby," he replied, still keeping his tone gentle, though there was a quiet persistence beneath it.
"I d-don't want to stay here," she whispered, her gaze darting everywhere except toward him.
"Then tell me why," Damien pressed, more directly this time. "Mathieu will be here by morning. The city isn't safe, and yet you're asking to go back. Why?"
The question landed heavily, like a spotlight cast too suddenly.
Jacqueline swallowed hard, her throat tightening. Words refused to come. Her thoughts were a tangled mess too loud, too chaotic and she didn't have the strength to sort through them, let alone explain them.
Frustration clawed at her chest.
She was exhausted.
Drained.
And still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth to unravel the storm inside her.
Instead, she slowly shifted, trying to get out of bed.
Damien was at her side in an instant.
