SAMMY POV
Strong arms kept me in place. Anchored me. Pinned me to the world when everything inside me wanted to float away, to disappear into the numbness of not breathing, not feeling, not existing.
Darian’s arms.
His heat bled through the towel he’d wrapped me in, soaked through the drenched fabric plastered to my skin, sunk deep into the hollow places inside me that had been cold for years. His chest rose and fell against my back, steady, powerful, deliberate. And then his voice—low, rough, terrified—threaded its way into the chaos in my head.
“Breathe, angel. In… out. Just like me. Count with me, Sammy. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t count, couldn’t think past the roaring in my ears and the fire in my lungs. Panic clawed higher, sharper, and
