Blood bloomed instantly, stark against her brown skin.
Rosa choked on a cry. Henry stepped forward.
“Miss Torres, let us—”
“No,” Maya said firmly, though quietly. “Don’t touch him.”
Elias saw only red: his son latched onto a maid, blood staining the imported Italian tile.
“I don’t pay you to touch my child!” he bellowed, reaching the bottom step, face twisted with fury. “Back off!”
Maya remained on her knees. The boy’s teeth stayed buried.
She didn’t cry. Didn’t pull away. Her breathing stayed even, her posture calm—almost protective.
Nathaniel growled, biting harder, body vibrating with the effort to hold himself together through pain.
“My boy,” Maya whispered, ignoring Elias entirely. “Look at me.”
Wild eyes met hers.
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Right here.” She touched her chest with her free hand. “Sometimes the hurt is so big you just need someone to hear it.”
Vanessa muttered, “This is dangerous.”
“Out!” Elias snapped.
Maya continued, voice barely audible.
“You’re not bad. You’re scared. And that’s okay.”
Something shifted. Nathaniel blinked. His jaw slackened slightly. Breathing slowed.
Maya winced as teeth scraped skin but held steady.
“It’s over, honey. I’m still here.”