The Billionaire’s Fight For Redemption (Noah and Sierra) novel Chapter 405

“Noah…”

His name leaves my lips in a shaky whisper, somewhere between disbelief and relief, and before I can even think about it, I throw myself into him.

He catches me instantly, his arms wrapping around me tightly, almost desperately, like he’s afraid I might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on hard enough. I press my face against his chest, my entire body trembling as the reality of what just happened crashes into me all over again.

His heart is racing. I can hear it, feel it pounding beneath my ear, matching the way his chest rises and falls in quick, uneven breaths. He’s just as shaken as I am, even if he’s trying to hold it together.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his voice low but unsteady. “You’re okay… you’re okay.”

I don’t know how long we stay like that, but eventually he pulls back just enough to look at me, his hands moving over me quickly, checking, searching.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice sharper now, urgent.

“I—”

He goes still before I can answer as his eyes go to my shoulder before dropping to my leg, and only then do I realize that I have a piece of glass stuck to my thigh, and my leg is bleeding.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding," he says, panic creeping into his voice. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

Before I can even react, before I can explain, he’s already moving.

“Noah—”

He doesn’t listen. One second, I’m standing, and the next, I’m in his arms as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing, his grip firm as he rushes out of the house.

The world blurs around me. The broken glass, the shattered furniture, the open door—it all fades into the background as he carries me outside, his movements fast and frantic, rushing to his car as if the very hellhounds of hell are after him.

He gets to the car, opens the passenger door, and carefully places me gently inside, being careful of my wounds.

“Stay with me,” he says, his hands moving quickly as he buckles me in.

“I’m really…”

He shuts the door before I can finish and rounds the car, sliding into the driver’s seat.

I glance back at what is remaining of my house, my stomach twisting. “What about, my house?"

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