That feels impossible. Everything feels like too much. Too fast. Too wrong. I push up again, ignoring the pull in my hand this time, forcing my body to cooperate.
Brooke steps back slightly, giving me space. That helps. Not being touched helps.
But the second I’m more upright, the room tilts. My vision blurs again. My stomach drops.
“Okay, maybe sit back,” Brooke says quickly.
I don’t have a choice. My body makes it for me. I fall back against the pillows, breath coming harder now, frustration mixing with fear. “I can’t even move,” I whisper.
“You can,” she says. “Just not all at once.” That doesn’t make me feel better.
My gaze drifts again. Toward the doorway. There’s movement. A shadow shifts.
Then…he steps into view.
Everything in me reacts. Immediate. Instinctive. Fear spikes sharp and fast, my body tensing before I can stop it, breath catching in my throat.
He’s large. That’s the first thing. Not just tall. Solid. He fills the doorway without trying, presence hitting the room before he even fully steps inside. Dark clothes. Leather. Blood on his clothes. His face is hard. Not angry. Not wild. Just…contained.
Too contained.
That’s worse.
My heart slams harder.
This is him.
I don’t know how I know. I just do. The one from the street. Something in my chest shifts. Not away from the fear. Alongside it.
He doesn’t move closer immediately. He stops just inside the room, like there’s a line he won’t cross without deciding to. His eyes are on me. Not scanning. Not distracted. Locked. Focused in a way that should feel like a threat. It doesn’t. Or it does. Just not the way I expect.
He doesn’t look frantic.Doesn’t look unpredictable. Doesn’t look like he’s about to do something I can’t anticipate. He looks… controlled. Like everything he does is already decided before it happens. That steadies something. Not everything. Not enough. But something.
My breathing is still uneven. My hands still shake. My heart is still racing. But the panic doesn’t spike higher. It stays where it is. Held. Balanced between fear and something else I don’t understand yet.
Brooke glances between us, reading something I can’t see. “He’s the one who brought you here,” she says quietly.
I look at her. Then back at him. “That doesn’t help,” I whisper.
She gives a small, almost sad smile. “I know.”
He takes one step forward. Slow. Deliberate. Giving me time to react. I don’t move. I don’t think I can. But I don’t flinch either. His voice comes out low when he speaks. “You’re awake.” It’s not a question. Not soft. Not harsh.
Just…there.
My throat tightens. “Yes.” The word is barely audible.
His gaze drops briefly. To the IV. To the way I’m gripping the blanket. To the tension in my shoulders. Then back to my face. “You’re safe.”
The same words Brooke used.
They land differently from him.He doesn’t try to convince me. He doesn’t explain. He just says it like it’s already true whether I believe it or not.
My heart stutters again. I don’t trust him. I don’t know him. I should be more afraid than I am. But standing there, he doesn’t feel like the danger. He feels like something else. Something worse. Something better. Something I don’t have a name for yet.
And for the first time since I woke up…
Fear and something steadier exist at the same time.
