"I can't find you."

"I can't find you."

"Santiago."

Fingers dance over my jaw, dragging me back to another time. The present time. I explode upright, violent breaths stalling in my lungs as I scan the room with wild eyes. They latch onto the first thing they see. A bedpost. A blanket. My bedroom.

I turn slowly and find Ivy staring back at me with concern etched into her features. We’re in my bed, together, still dressed in our clothes. We must have fallen asleep like this.

"It's okay," she whispers, reaching out to stroke my arm. "It's okay."

I’m still shaking, the fit seizing every fiber of my muscles as moisture clings to my forehead. My palms are clammy, and it takes me several moments to regain a normal breathing pattern before I can choke the words from my lips.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," she reassures me. "I promise you didn't."

I collapse back onto the pillow again, staring up at the ceiling as she curls closer, the warmth of her body pressing against mine. It calms me faster than anything else could. A strange revelation, only compounded by the fact that I don't want her to leave, even though I know she should.

"You shouldn't ever try to wake me," I tell her gruffly. "For your own safety."

"Okay." She acknowledges my declaration. "I just didn't... I didn't like to see you so lost to it. The nightmare. It was so intense, and I was worried for you."

I turn my head to the side, studying her. I want to ask her why she cares. But it's already written on her face. Her emotions are changing. Evolving. She sees me as something she shouldn't. Not a saint, but not quite a monster anymore. I'm somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, I think. And that is a dangerous thing to believe.

For both of us.

"It must be terrible," she says softly. "To experience something like that over and over again."

I avert my gaze. It's not something I care to discuss. She seems to understand, choosing not to press the matter.

"Is everything okay with you and Mercedes?" she asks.

I swallow, and it feels like broken glass gets caught in my throat. "It will be."

I have to believe that. But the truth is, I don't know.

Ivy continues to stroke my arm. It does something to my nerves I can't quite explain, but I'm on the verge of falling asleep again when her voice stirs me.

"What will happen when the Tribunal finds out I'm not pregnant?"

There's an undercurrent of fear in the question, and for once, it doesn't bring me pleasure to hear it.