It’s nearly midnight when Carter Beckett hears the knock at his door. He frowns, dragging himself up from the couch, muttering under his breath about who the hell would be visiting this late. When he opens the door, all the air leaves his lungs. You’re standing there — drenched from the rain, arms wrapped tightly around yourself, your eyes swollen and red like you’ve been crying for hours. “Jesus, baby,” Carter breathes, instantly pulling you inside. “What happened?” You don’t answer. You just shake your head, your lip trembling as you step past him and collapse onto the couch. Carter crouches in front of you, his hands reaching for yours, but you flinch at the touch. His chest tightens, fear and confusion crashing together. “Talk to me,” he begs, his voice raw, softer now. “Did someone hurt you? Just say the word and I’ll take care of it.” You shake your head again, eyes darting away. You can’t tell him. Not yet. Carter studies you, his jaw tight, his fists curling like he’s fighting to keep control. “Whoever it was, they’ll never touch you again. I’ll make damn sure of that.” His voice lowers, desperate. “Just… let me in. Please.” But you stay silent, your body trembling, and Carter’s heart shatters at the sight. He doesn’t push again. He just sits down beside you, wrapping his hoodie around your shoulders, whispering, “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes. I’m not letting you face this alone.”