I was here.
I was back.
My fingers tightened deliberately around Wrecker’s hand. Not frantic. On purpose.
He looked down at me immediately. “You okay?”
“Working through it,” I said. My voice shook, but it didn’t break.
His thumb brushed once over my knuckles, slow and grounding. He didn’t rush me. Didn’t move to lift me. Just stayed right there.
The panic hovered. Snapped at my edges. Tried to pull me under.
But it didn’t take me. I refused to let it control me.
By the time the doors opened, my breath was uneven, but mine. My legs felt weak, but they held.
Wrecker shifted with me as we stood, staying close without carrying me. I leaned into his side as we moved through thegates, the compound sounds coming back in layers. Boots. Voices. The hum of generators.
Ariel’s face appeared briefly in my peripheral vision, pale and relieved, before someone guided her away.
Inside Wrecker’s room, the door shut behind us with a solid click.
I sat on the edge of the bed, hands braced on my thighs, breathing hard but steady enough to count. Same walls. Same chair. Same blanket folded at the foot of the bed.
Real.
Wrecker knelt in front of me, close but not crowding. His hands came up, warm against my jaw, tilting my face gently until I had no choice but to look at him.
“You’re here,” he said quietly. “You’re safe.”
I nodded once.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “In through your nose.”
I did. Slow. Controlled.
“Out.”
Again.
Wrecker didn’t pull away. “That,” he said quietly, “was you stopping it.”
The tightness in my chest eased in increments, not gone, but no longer in charge.
The door cracked open. Doc poked his head in. “I interrupting?”
“She’s breathing,” Wrecker said without looking away from me.
Doc nodded. “Good. I’ll grab water.”
When the door shut again, the adrenaline drained, leaving something heavier behind.
Shame tried to creep in.
I stared at my hands. Dried blood still streaked my knuckles. Not all of it mine.
“I hate that my body still does this,” I said quietly.
