Hera, too, made no attempt to push Minerva away.
She understood the depth of Minerva's fear—sheltered as she had been in her life, treated like a princess, and had never faced anything like this.
With Rafael, her only source of comfort and stability, unconscious, Hera knew Minerva would feel utterly unsettled.
Hera gently stroked Minerva's hands with her thumb, and the simple gesture brought a small measure of comfort.
Minerva relaxed, if only for a moment, feeling the warmth of Hera's touch.
But then, the distant crack of gunfire broke the silence, freezing both women in place.
Minerva instinctively scooted closer to Hera, seeking shelter behind her, her body trembling as vivid memories of her abduction surged to the surface.
The terror of that night—the pain she and her brother had suffered—replayed in her mind, leaving her feeling exposed and fragile.
Hera gently began rubbing Minerva's head, a silent attempt to soothe her fear.
