Page 81 of Operation: Defiance

Chapter Twenty

Asher

Raine doesn’t ease into sleep. She crashes. One second she’s here, eyes open and unfocused. The next, she’s gone. Like her body finally hit a hard limit and shut itself down.

I don’t move. The chair isn’t comfortable, but comfort isn’t the point. She asked me to stay. So I stay.

Midnight ticks past on my phone, and I close my eyes.

It doesn’t last.

A small, broken sound pulls me fully awake. The room is dim, lit just enough she won’t surface into darkness. Raine’s curled on her side, knees drawn in a fraction, fingers hooked into the blanket like it’s all that’s holding her here.

Her chest stutters. Once. Twice. Another thin cry slips out, raw at the edges.

I don’t move.

“Raine,” I say quietly. “You’re safe. I’m right here. In the chair.”

Her fingers twitch. She drags in a breath that edges toward panic.

“No one’s going to hurt you.”

The tremor runs through her and fades. Her breathing evens enough that I trust she’s through the worst of it.

The next time I surface, a little over an hour has passed. My neck is stiff and my foot’s half asleep.

Raine’s eyes are open, fixed on the closet door. Her jaw is clenched hard enough, I’m surprised I can’t hear her teeth grinding together.

“Pain?” I ask.

“Ribs,” she whispers. “Shoulder. Hands. It’s…loud.”

I nod. “I’ll get you more electrolytes. You don’t have to sit all the way up. I can hold the glass. Do you want strawberry, raspberry, or grape?”

She hesitates. Stalled, like she doesn't understand the idea of choice. Or she’s afraid there’s a wrong answer.

That shouldn't bother me as much as it does.

“This isn’t a test. Or a trick. I’ll bring you whatever you want. If you’re not sure, I’ll bring all three.”

She works her jaw for a beat, and her eyes finally focus on me.

“Grape.”

I stand slowly, giving her time to track me as I head down the hall. In the kitchenette, I mix a small dose—barely a quarter cup. Any more would overwhelm a system that’s been pushed too far for too long.

When I come back, she watches as I sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll hold. You guide. Same as before. Okay?”

Her hand shakes as she brings her fist against the cup. The first sip sloshes. The second lands better. “Enough,” she says after the third.

I set the cup on the nightstand and retreat to the chair. Same position. Hands visible. Blanket over my legs.

“Try what we did earlier,” I say. “Heels into the mattress.”

She does. Her legs jerk once. Then she stills.

“Okay,” she whispers. “It’s…better.”