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CHAPTER EIGHT

PAIN.

IT DRAGGED me from the dark, sharp, burning, twisting through every inch of me. My body felt heavy, like I was sinking into the bed, limbs too weighted to move. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.

I peeled my eyes open, lids like sandpaper scraping over raw skin. The room was dim, shadows stretched along the walls. The air smelled like antiseptic and fabric softener—clean and unfamiliar. Panic fluttered in my chest. Where…

A movement caught my eye. A figure sat in a chair beside the bed—broad shoulders, blond hair. His presence should have been threatening—he was massive, half his face scarred—but… it wasn’t.

It was him .

The man from the van.

His gaze lifted from the floor, locking onto mine. One blue. One Gold. Striking. Intense. They softened when they found me awake.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice rough but… gentle. “You’re safe. Doc patched you up. You gave us a scare.”

Safe. The word echoed, strange and distant. My fingers twitched, trying to grab the sheet, but my hands were wrapped tight. Bandages?

I tried to speak—tried to ask where am I? —but nothing came out. Just a rasp. A dry, airless wheeze.

Confusion spiked.

I tried again—harder—my chest tightening with the effort. Why… can’t I—

His expression shifted, understanding and concern threading through it. “Hey, hey, easy,” he said, leaning closer. His hand hovered near mine but didn’t touch. Respectful. Careful.

“Doc said… your windpipe took a hit. You won’t be able to talk for a bit. Gotta let it heal, yeah? Don’t push it.”

The words sank in, slow and heavy.

No voice.

My throat clenched, panic clawing up fast and fierce. No. No, no, no…

I couldn’t breathe—I couldn’t—

His hand reached out, warm and steady, resting lightly on my arm.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice grounding.

I did—because there was nowhere else to go—and those mismatched eyes caught mine. Held me there.

Not demanding. Not commanding.

Just… there. Present.

My heart pounded, breath hitching. His gaze didn’t waver.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, slow and calm, like he’d done this before . Inhale. Exhale. His voice made the world stopped spinning just enough for me to breathe.

I matched him, ragged at first, then steadier. Panic receded like a tide pulling away from shore.

Tears burned my eyes, part relief, part exhaustion. Why is he being so… kind?

His lips twitched in something close to a smile.

“See? Not so bad. Told you, you’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you here.”

Something inside me—something fragile and cracked— believed him .

Or maybe it was just the exhaustion dragging me under again. My eyes grew heavy, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. But before darkness claimed me, I glanced at him one last time.

That connection sparked again— silent, wordless. Trust.

And then… nothing.