Page 164 of Operation: Defiance

My grip fails. The phone slips from my hand and clatters to the floor, the sound too loud in the silent room.

He keeps talking, but the words are far away now. Or maybe I’m far away. I don’t know anymore.

Asher

The second I hear her try to answer—and fail—I understand what’s happening. The safe house systems didn’t alert me to anything. She’s physically safe. That’s the only thought that keeps me from detonating. But her mind…

I abandon the basket and rush down the aisle. By the time I hit the sidewalk, I’m running.

The dark glasses, scarf, and hat are suffocating, but I keep them on. If anyone’s looking for me, facial recognition won’t track me like this.

Eight minutes turn into six and a half. The elevator is too slow, so I take the stairs up four flights. The electronic lock beeps as I type in the combination.

Fuck. Fuck.

Raine is huddled in the corner. Knees drawn up. Her hands are shaking so hard the phone never had a chance. It lies where it fell, the call still open, but the screen dark.

The room is utterly silent except for her tiny gasps as she struggles for air. No music. No TV.

She doesn’t look up when I enter.

She doesn’t react to the sound of the door.

That tells me everything.

I strip off the hat, sunglasses, and scarf, letting them fall as I crouch several feet away.

“Raine. It’s me. It’s Asher.”

Her head jerks slightly. Not away. Not toward. Just enough to tell me she heard something.

Okay. She’s here. Sort of.

Her eyes are open, but they’re unfocused, tracking nothing. Her chest stutters, breath skidding in and out too quickly. If I don’t interrupt this cycle, she’ll lose consciousness.

Pulling out my phone, I end the call and launch the playlist she’d picked this morning. After the first few notes, her breathing changes pattern.

“That’s your music, Raine. The one you said you liked the most. You picked it. Remember?”

Her shoulders drop slightly. The tremor in her hands eases a fraction.

I slow my own breathing and let it be audible without exaggerating it.

She tries to follow and fails. Tries again.

Her arms loosen slightly around her legs.

The music keeps playing. Steady. Ordinary. Familiar in a way that doesn’t demand anything from her.

She squeezes her eyes shut. “I—” Her voice cracks. “I can’t⁠—”

“I know,” I say. “You were hyperventilating. It messes with everything. Give it another minute.”

The music shifts, and Raine blinks. For the first time since I came back to the apartment, I think she can finally see me.

“Asher?” Her voice is thin. Raw with pain.

“I’m right here.”