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Tonight, he leads me to the back door, nudging my pants with his nose when I don’t raise the cover on the doggy door he never uses fast enough.

“What’s up with you?” I mutter before he wedges himself through the opening, disappearing into the backyard.

I open the door to make sure he doesn’t get too close to the edge of my property, but his persistent whine pulls me from inside the house to outside, overlooking the pool.

And that’s when I see it.

The fully clothed woman floating precariously in the deep end.

“Delilah!” Her name rips out of me when her head dips under the surface.

Somewhere between one panicked breath and the next, I’m on my knees beside the pool, arm outstretched to grab her wrist.

“Delilah, grab my hand! Please!”

Once.

Twice.

Three times I tug her wrist before it’s enough to gain leverage and pull her out of the water.

I fall on my ass when she’s in my arms, my eyes running over every inch of her while I cradle her against my chest.

Eyes closed.

Face serene.

Shallow breaths.

No reaction.

Why isn’t she reacting?

She looks asleep. At peace. Barely here.

No. No. No.

“Victor!”

The tremor in my voice.

Titus’ wail.

The limp woman in my arms.

None of this shit feels real.

It can’t be real.

I don’t know when Victor reaches my side, but he has towels when he does.

Without a word, he helps me sit Delilah up, so her airway is clear. Then he claps his hand against the center of her back until one gasping breath chases another and her eyes flutter open before slamming them shut again.

Relief doesn’t consume me yet, because I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

Delilah is still gasping in my arms.

“We should get her inside, sir.”