Page 9

AMELIA

I’ve not felt as close to Tristan as I do in this moment after he’s taken me to heaven and back. This is who I want us to be, who I imagined we would be when we got married. But life had other plans. We were thrust into a war—not of our own making—and it was all about survival.

And I should be exhausted, especially after what we’ve been through the last few months, but I’m not. Instead, I’m staring at my husband. Right this second is the most at peace he’s looked since he came home. With my fingers, I reach up and run them through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

Eventually that peaceful look starts being replaced.

My stomach cramps as I watch it. Gone is the calm, and in its place is something I can’t actually put my finger on.

Tristan’s face screws up in what appears to be either fear or pain. Reaching up, I push against the skin of his forehead in between his eyebrows, smoothing the lines. “It’s okay,” I soothe softly. “You’re okay.”

But that doesn’t soothe him, not in the way I want it too. Instead of resting, his head starts shaking back and forth on the pillow. Sounds escape from his chest, ones that are savage in their intensity and panicky in the way he’s trying to get air into his lungs.

“No…” he screams. “Don’t go over there. You don’t have any cover!”

“Tristan, you’re not there anymore. You’re here with me. It’s okay,” I croon.

That’s when a hand wraps around my wrist, fingers hanging on tightly. “Don’t touch me.”

The voice. It’s not Tristan’s. It’s someone else who I don’t know. Full of harshness, and severity. I’ve never heard this tone from him before. It causes icy fear to wash over me. “Tris, it’s me. It’s Lia, your wife. You know me.”

With a cry, he flips me over, holding my wrists above my head.

I’m doing my best not to be frightened, but I’ve never seen this look in his eyes before.

It’s as if he hates me, as if he could chew me up and spit me out, or break me in half.

Never before have I felt unsafe with him, but my heart is pounding in my chest, sweat has bloomed on every part of my body, and I’m terrified what he may do.

“You’re not going to kill me.” He grits through his teeth.

“No, I’m not,” I say as calmly as possible. “I don’t want to hurt you, and you don’t want to hurt me.”

His eyes are unfocused in a way I’ve never seen before, and I don’t know how to make him snap out of it.

Reaching up, he wraps his fingers around my throat, squeezing roughly.

I begin beating on his back, trying to get him to loosen his hold.

His forearm is in front of my mouth, and I manage to open my mouth and bite down as hard as I can.

When he lets go, I inhale deeply, giving my deprived lungs what they need, and scream loudly.

Before I can do anything else, the door busts open and here comes Parker and Shannon, both carrying. “What’s happening?” he asks, as he comes over to where we are.

“Bad dream, and I can’t get him out of it.”

Parker makes a noise in the back of his throat and holsters his weapon before grabbing Tristan by his shoulders, yanking him off of me. Something about the motion snaps Tristan out of it, and when they’re face-to-face, I hear a voice come out of my husband that I’ve never heard before.

“Oh my god, what did I do? Is she okay?”

Parker says something softly, but when Tristan looks up at me, the fear in those eyes is enough to make me cry. I hate this for him, for us, and I don’t know how to fix it. Before I can say anything else, Tristan is on his feet and running for the door.

“Help him?” I beg Parker.

“I will.” He nods and takes off at a run after him.

“Are you okay?” Shannon asks, coming over to where I lay with the cover pulled up over my bare breasts. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I cry.

And in that moment, I sink into her arms, letting her hold me closely.

Her embrace is like a lifeline, grounding me when everything feels like it’s flapping in the wind. Shannon’s warmth seeps into my bones as I cling to her, my tears soaking into her shirt.

“I’m so afraid for him, Shan,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a fear I can’t quite explain. “He’s in so much pain, and I don’t know how to reach him. There’s never been a point I’ve been scared of him until tonight.”

Shannon pulls back slightly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with gentle fingers. Her eyes, soft but determined, meet mine. “We’ll find a way, Amelia. You’re not alone in this.”

Her words are like a balm, offering a flicker of hope in the thick fog of despair. I nod, swallowing hard even as fresh tears spill over. “But how?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. “How do we pull him out of this darkness when he won’t even let me in?”

“We take it one day at a time,” Shannon replies, her voice steady. “We hold him up with love and patience. He needs us to be strong, so we will be.”

I nod again, trying to absorb her strength. It’s as though she’s handing me a piece of her resilience, allowing me to borrow it when I have none. I know Shannon means every word, and her belief awakens something in me that I thought was lost in these last few moments—determination.

“You’re right,” I murmur, wiping my cheeks. “We can’t give up on him. Not now, not ever.”

Shannon squeezes my hand, her presence both solid and comforting. “Exactly. We’ll fight for him, Amelia. Together.”

It’s not a solution, but it’s a start—a fragile thread of hope to cling to as we navigate through the consequences of the actions Parker and Tristan took while in the war.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Okay,” I say, my voice firmer now. “Okay. We’ll find a way.”

And I believe it. With every fiber of my being, I cling to the promise that we will find a way back to each other, back to peace, back to love, back to the life we were building before all of this exploded in our faces.