Page 157 of Operation: Defiance

I wake to a gentle, looping melody—something Asher chose last night, saying it was supposed to promote restful sleep.

Early sun washes in around the edges of the blinds, pale gold against the beige walls. Next to me, Asher lies on his back, one hand resting palm up near the edge of the pillow, his fingers loose and open.

He looks so different.

Not younger or softer, but freer, his expression unguarded in a way that pulls the hint of a smile from my lips.

The tension in his shoulder has eased slightly. His chest rises and falls in a slow, even rhythm.

It’s the first time I’ve seen him truly relaxed. And yet, if I said his name, I know without a doubt, he’d be awake in an instant.

My heart stutters in understanding, hard enough that I brace on instinct. But what follows isn’t panic or pain. It’s…warm, confusing, and nothing I have the words for. Yet.

I stretch my right arm carefully, lifting it just enough to engage the muscles in my back and shoulder. A deep, insistent ache flares, but it’s manageable. I’m nowhere near healed—I might never be. But enough to be functional.

Sleep helped. Even if I did wake more than once. The first time, all I could feel was the hood pulled tight around my neck. I couldn’t breathe until I heard Asher’s quiet whisper. “You’re not back there.”

Later, my entire body jolted, the memory of too many hands in too many places locking my muscles and sending a wave of icy panic to drown me.

But he grounded me again. This time, it was his clean, slightly woodsy scent and the way he rolled over and murmured, “You’re safe.”

I held onto those words until the gentle pressure of my heels against the mattress settled my racing heart.

I’m still exhausted. But at least my thoughts are settling.

Pressing my hand to my stomach, I find another sensation.

Hunger.

This isn’t a simple desire for calories. For fuel. I want…food. For the first time since they took me, my body wants more than survival. It wants to live.

I ease out of bed, careful not to jostle Asher. He wasn’t on the edge of collapse when he carried me out of that place, but he’s been surviving on scraps of broken sleep since. He needs every minute.

The room doesn’t spin—much—when I stand. Progress. If I brush my teeth, I might feel almost human.

I don’t avoid the bathroom mirror, but I give it a wide berth. A quick glance is all I can manage. Long enough to clock the yellow ringing the deep purple bruises, the fading bags under my eyes, and the hint of color in my cheeks.

One day, the woman looking back at me won’t be so much of a stranger. But not today.

I brush for longer than I need. Long enough I can hear Asher moving around in the main room.

The grinder is running, and the rich scent of coffee winds its way down the hall.

Asher stands at the counter, shoulders loose, hair still mussed from sleep. He glances over his shoulder at me, and his lips curve into a smile. “Morning.”

His voice is still rough. A subtle warmth threads through me, and I press my fingertips against the edge of the countertop.

Every one of his movements is precise. The grind. Leveling the scoop. Adding just enough water that the scent blooms, sweet and rich and chocolaty. A single stir, timed just right before he fills the press completely.

“I might be able to handle half a cup,” I say. “If you have enough.”

His eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’ll have to go to the store this afternoon. But we have enough until then. Breakfast?”

“Yes. Can I…help?”

Asher shakes his head. “You’re still guarding that shoulder like it owes you an apology. You said you used to enjoy your morning coffee by the window. It’s sunny today.” He pours exactly half a cup, and as I take it, our fingers brush. It’s…nice.

I lower myself carefully onto the couch, cradling the mug in my hands. It’s warm, and the scent is so comforting, reminding me of the life I almost lost. Sunlight touches the floor in wide, gentle bands, and the pull toward it is immediate. I miss fresh air. I miss the sky. But until I know how hard they’re looking for me—who’s looking for me, and what they’re planning—outside is nothing but a dream.