Page 72 of Operation: Defiance

Another wave hits, lower this time. My stomach tightens, hollow and clenched all at once. I breathe carefully. Not too deep. If I give in, I’ll lose the broth. And that might destroy whatever part of me I have left.

“That wrong feeling,” Asher says. “Pain or pressure?”

Thoughts come too slowly. I’m supposed to answer. If I don’t… Another small whimper, and I force a single word free. “Pressure.”

“Okay,” he says. “Don’t fight it. Just tell me if it gets worse.”

My stomach tightens hard enough to steal my breath. I curl without meaning to—pain slices through my shoulders, and I go very still.

Too much.

My vision fuzzes at the edges.

“Easy.” Asher hasn’t moved. Same place. Same distance. “Breathe through it.”

The pressure doesn’t stop. My throat tightens. I can’t get enough air to explain.

“Worse,” I whisper.

“Shift your focus.” In my periphery, he leans forward a fraction. But his hands stay still, his voice steady. “Can you feel the mattress under your heels?”

The question surprises me enough, I manage a deeper breath. “Yes.”

“Good. Press them down gently. Just enough to notice.”

I do. The movement sends a jolt up my calves, uncomfortable but grounding. The pressure in my stomach wavers, then loosens a fraction.

Asher leans back in the chair. “Better?”

I nod. Speaking is just out of reach.

“Was it the broth?” he asks.

The question floats for a moment before I catch it.

“Yes.”

His eyes soften. “Your body has to remember it’s allowed to want.”

Heat spikes behind my eyes. Tears spill without warning, hot and embarrassing.

“Wanting is…dangerous.”

“It was,” Asher says. No argument. No softening what happened to me. “It isn’t anymore.” He keeps his voice low and steady, still talking even as my thoughts smear at the edges. “You can rest. I’m right here.”

I let my eyes close. Breathe. Let the moment pass without bracing for the next one.