A voice tunneled through my ears and landed somewhere in the muck of my mind. I clung to the blackness, every part of me revolting at the thought of forcing my eyes open. I was safe in this place, in this nothingness where I could just be.

But the voice was persistent. Someone curled their fingers around my bicep and shook me. Slowly, I came back to a reality I didn’t want to face, to an existence that was unavoidable, inevitable even. Cloth stuffed the cavity of my mouth, and I choked on a muffled cry. The gentle sway of movement reminded me of a trunk, bringing about panic. Swift and debilitating—it held me in its unmerciful grasp.

That voice washed over me again as cold fingers pulled the gag from my dry lips. I let out a scream that was little more than a hoarse plea for survival.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” he said, slapping a palm over my mouth until the scream died in my throat. His voice resonated in the deepest part of my soul, even at the level of a breathy whisper, and my heart tripped over in its haste to beat.

“Rafe?” I blinked against the pitch-black, eyes burning with the threat of relieved tears. In that foggy state of here and there, I’d feared I was back in Zach’s trunk, alone with the weight of Rafe’s death pressing on me. I squirmed, trying to maneuver so I could turn over and face him, inhale his scent, hold on and never let go…except I couldn’t move my hands.

As if he knew what I needed, he tugged at the bindings with deft fingers. I scooted forward and bit my lip, impatient to be in his arms.

“Hold on, baby.” His tone was rife with the same impatience. Several long seconds passed in each thud of my heartbeat, and the rope loosened in tiny degrees before dropping free. “C’mere.”

I wiggled to my back and bumped into his warm, naked chest.

“Just a little more,” he said, inching back to give me more room. I flopped over, and he crushed me in his embrace.

“What happened?” I asked, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder. But it was a stupid question. This wasn’t my first ride in the back of a trunk—as the dread in my belly and the fear souring my taste buds reminded me.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Though his words came out calm, his pulse, sprinting to the fervent pace of mine, gave him away. We were far from okay. His nose nudged my temple, and I lifted my face in the darkness, shivering under the warm press of his lips on my skin. He brushed a kiss over each eyelid then dipped to my mouth, barely touching, and leaned his forehead against mine.

For a few moments, we just breathed.

No words.