A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Maria.

I opened my eyes slowly, the weight on my eyelids heavy, as though they had been sealed shut for days. The first thing that struck me was the unfamiliar scent, clean, faintly herbal, nothing like the cold, oppressive smell I had grown used to. My vision blurred as I tried to focus, shapes swimming above me before gradually settling into form. Pale walls. Soft light filtering in through a narrow window. A bed that felt too warm, too gentle beneath my aching body.

This wasn’t my room.

A spike of panic flared in my chest as I tried to move, only for a sharp throb to pulse through my head, forcing a weak gasp from my lips. I lay still, breathing shallowly, my mind scrambling to catch up with my surroundings. Where was I? How did I get here?

"Maria. You are finally awake."

The voice cut through my confusion, low and familiar, carrying a warmth that felt dangerously close to kindness. My heart skipped as I turned my head toward the sound, wincing at the dull pain that followed the movement.

Daniel.

He was already on his feet, crossing the room in quick strides as if he had been waiting for this moment. Relief and worry were etched across his face, his brows drawn together as he bent beside the bed. Before I could react, his hands were on my shoulders, careful, steady, as he helped me sit up, adjusting the pillows behind me so I wouldn’t strain myself.

"Easy," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Don’t rush."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry and burning. My body felt wrong, weak, heavy, like it no longer fully belonged to me. Daniel studied my face, his eyes moving over me as though he were counting injuries he couldn’t see.

"How did all this happen to you?" he asked, disbelief and concern woven together. Then, quieter but sharper, "Did you plan on killing yourself?"

The question hit me harder than any slap.

"I..." My lips trembled as I tried to speak, but the words refused to come. I bit down on my lower lip, tasting blood, hoping the sting would ground me enough to continue.

But it was useless.

Davian’s face flashed in my mind, cold eyes, raised hand, the crack of pain that followed. The sound of my own breath hitching. The helplessness. The humiliation. The fear. It all came rushing back at once, like a dam breaking, and before I could stop myself, tears spilled over.

I cried.

Not the quiet, restrained tears I had trained myself to shed in silence, but deep, broken sobs that tore out of my chest. My shoulders shook violently as I tried, and failed, to hold them back. Every breath felt jagged, my chest tightening as though it might cave in.

Daniel didn’t hesitate.

"It’s okay," he said firmly, gently pulling me forward. His arms wrapped around me, strong but careful, as though he feared I might shatter if he held me too tightly.

And just like that, I broke completely.

I buried my face in his chest, my fingers clutching at his clothes as if he were the only solid thing left in the world. I cried harder than I ever had, years of swallowed pain pouring out all at once. Every insult, every blow, every moment of fear and loneliness, I let it all go.

Daniel didn’t push me away.

He didn’t tell me to stop.

He didn’t grow uncomfortable.

He simply held me.

"I am here for you, Maria," he said quietly, his hand moving in slow, steady circles on my back. "You’re not alone. Not anymore."

Those words undid me.

I cried for a long time, so long that my throat burned and my eyes ached, so long that I lost track of where I was. Daniel remained still beneath me, his presence unwavering, his chest rising and falling calmly as if he had all the time in the world.

Eventually, the sobs softened into quiet sniffles. My body felt drained, hollowed out, but lighter in a way I couldn’t explain. I pulled back slowly, embarrassed now that the storm had passed.

Only then did I notice his clothes.

Dark patches stained the front of his shirt where my tears had soaked through. The sight made my stomach twist with guilt. I hadn’t meant to do that. I hadn’t meant to burden him with my mess.

"I’m sorry," I managed to whisper, my voice hoarse as I lowered my head. Shame crept up my spine, familiar and unwelcome. "I didn’t mean to..."

"Don’t," Daniel interrupted gently.

I looked up, startled.

He met my gaze with a small, reassuring smile, as if the stains on his clothes meant nothing at all. "You have nothing to apologize for," he said. "Not for crying. Not for...."

My chest tightened again, but this time, it wasn’t from pain.

For the first time in what felt like forever, someone wasn’t looking at me like a burden... or a prize... or a problem.

They were just looking at me like I mattered. I lowered my head again and muttered. "I am really sorry..."

"There is no need to be sorry. I..." His words trailed off as his fingers gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he was afraid even the slightest pressure might hurt me. His eyes searched mine deeply, not with suspicion or judgment, but with something quieter, concern, patience, and an aching need to understand. "...I just want you to be okay," he finished softly.

The sincerity in his voice unraveled something inside me.

I couldn’t find the strength to speak, so I simply nodded. Once. Slowly. It felt like the only response my exhausted body could manage. My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard, afraid that if I opened my mouth again, tears would return.

Daniel watched me for a moment longer, as if making sure I truly heard him. Then he eased back slightly, giving me space, though his presence still felt close, anchoring.

"So," he said gently, lowering himself to sit beside the bed, "tell me what happened."

At those words, something inside me loosened.

I released a long, shaky breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. My shoulders slumped as the weight I had been carrying pressed down all at once, and then, slowly, began to lift. I started from the beginning, my voice quiet at first, uncertain, but steadier as I went on.

I told him about the night he saved me. About how lost and afraid I had been, and how that single moment of kindness had stayed with me even when everything else turned dark. I told him about Davian calling for me, the fear that had wrapped itself around my heart before I even reached his chambers. I spoke of the pain, the water, the confusion, my voice trembling when I mentioned how my body had given out, how the darkness had taken me.

Daniel didn’t interrupt. Not once.

I continued, recounting how I had fainted, how Aidan summoned me later despite my weakness. I told him about the slap, the humiliation, the fear that I might never speak properly again when my teeth had cut into my tongue. I spoke of Vanessa standing there, watching, and the way hope had briefly sparked, and then died, inside me.

Every word poured out like water breaking through a cracked wall.

As I spoke, Daniel’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, his hands curling slowly into fists at his sides. Yet he remained silent, allowing me to finish at my own pace. I didn’t skip a single detail. Not one. By the time I was done, my voice was hoarse, my chest aching, but strangely, lighter.

When silence finally settled between us, it didn’t feel heavy.

It felt peaceful.

For the first time in a long while, my heart felt calm, as though it had finally been heard.

"Thank you, Daniel," I said softly.

He blinked, startled, then frowned slightly. "For what?"

"For helping me feel peace," I replied, a small but genuine smile curving my lips. It surprised even me, how easily it came, and how warm it felt.

That smile did something to him.

I saw it in the way his body went still, in the way his breath caught just slightly. His eyes lingered on my face, as though seeing me anew, and before I could react, he leaned closer. One hand lifted, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my face, his fingers grazing my temple.

"You look beautiful..." he murmured.

My heart skipped.

He was close. Too close. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that the space between us felt charged, fragile. My gaze flicked to his lips without permission, and for a fleeting second—just one—I thought he might kiss me.

The thought stunned me.

But just as quickly, he pulled away.

The warmth vanished, leaving the air between us cool and empty. Daniel stood abruptly, turning his back to me as though steadying himself.

"Get more rest, Maria," he said, his voice controlled once more, though something strained lingered beneath it. "I will be back."

And with that, he walked to the door and left, closing it quietly behind him.

I remained there on the bed, staring at the spot where he had been, my heart still racing, my mind tangled with emotions I didn’t yet understand—but for the first time in a long time, not drowning in pain.