Page 105 of The Protection Agreement

My defense mechanism kicks in automatically.

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium,” I begin, my voice low and distant. The periodic table spills out of me like a steady thread I can hold on to.

“What is she saying?” a female voice asks. Calm. Professional.

He leans closer, his breath warming my cheek, his strong hands enveloping mine. I ache to respond, to squeeze back, but I cannot fully command my body. His familiar scent—sandalwood and clean citrus grounds me. Still, my voice continues its litany, seeking safety in the unchanging order of elements.

Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Sodium. Potassium.

“Is she a doctor or chemist?” the voice asks.

“Rubidium.”

“Cesium.”

“Francium.”

“She’s reciting the periodic table of elements,” the voice says.

“No. Her mother was a doctor,” he answers.

There is strain in his voice. Tight. Controlled.

“Will she pull through?”

I hear that question land heavily in him.

Beryllium. Magnesium. Calcium.

“She’s going to be fine. The scans show no damage. She’ll have a bad headache from the impact, but everything else looks stable. The medication will help.”

“Why isn’t she opening her eyes and still reciting this?” His voice sharpens with worry.

“Her subconscious is activating memorized information. It is a coping response. Quite impressive, actually,” the female voice replies.

His warm fingers wrap around my cold hand. I gather what little strength I can and return the squeeze. It costs me effort, but I know he feels it because suddenly his lips are on me my forehead, my cheeks, the bridge of my nose each kiss light, grounding me, anchoring me to consciousness.

“Thank you, Sprinkles,” he whispers, his voice breaking slightly. “Thank you for letting me know you are here with me.” I hear the relief beneath his words as his presence steadies me.

“I am here, Sprinkles, and you are safe,” he continues, his thumb tracing slow circles across my palm. “I am not leaving your side. I promise. Just rest now, and soon we can go home.” He exhales deeply, and his nearness wraps around me like a blanket warm and familiar.

As I drift back toward unconsciousness, the beeping fades and my racing thoughts slow. He is here. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the warmth of his hand remain. I am safe.

Chapter sixty-two

Bruce

I squeeze her hand hard enough to feel her pulse against my palm, then drop into the chair beside her. My fingers stay locked with hers. I know she feels me here. I know she hears me.

Ice bursts in, face tight with guilt, shoulders slumped like he is carrying something too heavy to hold.

“She’s alive, Ice,” I say, voice rough with emotion I am forcing down. “You didn’t fail me. Thank you for keeping her safe.”

“They came out of nowhere. Too damn fast—” His fist tightens.

“You had food poisoning and still dropped two of them. They didn’t count on Smith being there. That’s what saved us.”

He gives a sharp nod.