Snap.
Again.
Snap. Snap.
The sting gives me something real to anchor to. Present pain. Present room. Present body.
I keep going, faster, harder, pacing before I even realize I’ve stood up. Bare feet on cool floorboards. The room flashing white every few seconds with lightning, then plunging black again before my eyes can adjust.
It’s the worst kind of rhythm. Just enough light to remember where I am. Just enough dark to walk the line of losing it.
Snap.The band bites a raw line into my skin. I barely feel it over the rush in my head.
This is weakness. This is what happens when you let them get close, when you let yourself get distracted by mouths and hands and the illusion of safety.
I came here for one thing. I will not lose the thread because I got horny and stupid in a bar office.
Snap—
A knock skims across the door. Soft. Testing. I spin toward it, pulse in my throat.
“Reva?”
Shiloh.His voice comes through the dark low and careful, no lazy drawl, no teasing lilt.
I don’t answer fast enough, and the latch turns.
The door opens a few inches and lightning frames him in the hall—broad shoulders, chest and feet bare, one hand braced on the jamb like he came fast and stopped himself before barreling in.
“Hey,” he says quietly, seeing me. “You okay? I heard you…call out.”
Scream. He heard me scream.
Am I okay?I almost laugh.
“Power’s out,” I manage, breathless and furious at how wrecked I sound.
“I know.” He pushes the door wider and steps inside. “Storm shook the whole house.”
Another flash, another plunge into black. I choke on another scream, this one more of a whimper.
I hear him more than see him for a second. The whisper of his feet on old floorboards. The pause when he takes in the pacing, the sweat, my hand still wrapped around the rubber band cutting into my wrist.
“What happened?”
“Nightmare.” The word scrapes against my throat. “I’m fine.”
Lightning cracks again. His face appears for a heartbeat—jaw tight, eyes on me, not buying it.
“Yank.” Softer now. “You are many things. Fine ain’t one of ’em. At least not the way you’re implying.”
I hate how that almost undoes me. I yank the rubber band again. He notices.
“Hey.” Closer now but still not touching. “Look at me.”
The room goes black before I can.
I hear the click of his phone unlocking, then a small burst of white as he turns on the flashlight. He angles it down at first, then up toward the ceiling so it diffuses across the room instead of hitting me in the face.
