LiaWinters

She was only fifteen when I found her—broken, terrified, and barely alive.
I didn’t plan to keep her.
I was a special ops officer—trained to kill, not to care.
But she clung to me like I was her last light.
And I couldn’t let go.

I raised her like a sister.
Protected her. Watched her heal, grow, and fight her demons.
For five years, I told myself I was doing the right thing.

Until one day…
She looked at me—not as a guardian.
But as a woman in love.

I tried to push her away.
I was too old. Too dangerous.

But she’d already made up her mind.
And I was never strong enough to say no.

She thought her life ended the day she was taken.
But when he saved her, it wasn’t just her body that began to heal—
It was her soul’s second chance.

He saved her.
She became his reason to live.

A slow-burn, age-gap romance about trauma, survival, and the kind of love that takes years to grow—but never fades.

Saving Her Broke Me

It's dark. But somehow I see more clearly then ever.

Just like that—soft click, then darkness.

I stood in the middle of the living room, holding my phone like it was a lifeline.

Outside, the wind had picked up.

The rain hadn't started yet, but the sky felt heavy.

Alex had left twenty minutes ago, heels clicking down the hallway, red lipstick perfect, off to dinner with someone new.

I wasn't scared. Not exactly. But I didn't like it either.

So when the door buzzed and I checked the camera—

I opened the door without thinking. "You came."

Elias stepped inside, shaking the rain off his jacket. "I saw the outage alert. Figured you'd be alone."

I didn't say thank you. Didn't need to.

He kicked off his boots by the door. "Got candles?"

I nodded. "One. Bathroom. I'll get it."

The flame lit with a small flick. Warm. Flickering.

But it was enough to see his face in that golden light.

Why did he have to look like that?

Not bright—just enough to catch the edge of his jaw.

The faint dip where his neck met his shoulder.

And maybe it was the way he was leaning forward.

Or the way his shirt clung just enough to show the curve of muscle along his throat.

But something about it made her chest tighten.

He didn't look at me. Just sat there, still, quiet, focused.

And I hated that my body noticed all of it before my mind could catch up.

I curled up on the other end, blanket around my knees, candle on the coffee table between us.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," I said, half-teasing.

"I know," he said. "But I'm still glad I came."

I looked at him. He wasn't smiling.

Just watching me. Not in a heavy way.

But in the way that made my skin feel too tight.

The flame danced. The shadows leaned closer.

And then—somehow—I leaned too.

Just a little. Until my shoulder brushed his arm.

He didn't move. And neither did the air between us.

I didn't mean to rest my head on him. But I did.

I waited for him to pull away. He didn't.

He shifted. Turned slightly. Let me settle in.

And then he moved his arm. Slowly. Wrapped it around me.

Like he'd been holding back for too long.

The blanket slipped. His body was warm.

His chest rose and fell beneath my cheek.

And I said it. Soft. Barely a whisper.

I could feel it—in the silence that followed.

Like the words had touched something too deep to name.

"I'm not asking for anything," I whispered. "I just… I wanted you to know."

His grip tightened. Not too much. Just enough to let me feel it.

Chapter 50: Outage