Chapter 6
Raine
I wake up choking on a scream.
My body jerks upright, drenched in sweat, my pulse hammering so hard it feels like my ribs might crack under the pressure.
The air in the cabin is thick, too thick, pressing in on me like a phantom grip around my throat.
The darkness isn’t empty—it’s crawling, shifting, filled with the ghosts of hands I swore I’d escaped.
Dante’s hands.
I drag in a breath, sharp and ragged, but it doesn’t reach my lungs. My fingers claw at the sheets, trying to ground myself, trying to remember where I am.
Not there. Not anymore.
A shadow moves in the doorway. The sound of a footstep, quiet but firm.
Emmett.
I don’t know how long he’s been standing there. Watching. Waiting. But his presence doesn’t make my panic fade—it only sharpens it. Because he sees too much. He always does.
I can’t let him see me like this.
“Get out,” I snap, my voice hoarse, still laced with the nightmare’s grip.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. Just watches me, his steel-gray eyes unreadable in the dim light.
I push back against the headboard, pressing my spine against the wood, needing something solid to anchor me. “I said get out.”
His head tilts slightly, like he’s considering whether to humor me or not. Then, instead of leaving, he steps inside and closes the door.
My breath stutters. “What the hell are you doing?”
Emmett leans against the frame, arms crossed, gaze steady. “You were screaming.”
I swallow hard, forcing my shoulders to square. “No, I wasn’t.”
His lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t call me on the lie. Instead, he pushes off the door and moves toward the edge of the bed. He doesn’t sit, doesn’t reach for me, but he’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“Raine,” he says, voice low, rough. “Talk to me.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Bullshit.”
I glare at him, but the fire in me is weak. It flickers, struggling against the weight of exhaustion, against the memories clawing at my mind.
Silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken things.
Then he does something that almost breaks me.
He sits down.
Not close enough to touch, not crowding me, but enough to tell me he’s not going anywhere. Enough to tell me I don’t have to do this alone.
I hate it.
I hate that it works.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my hands against my temples. “It was just a dream,” I mumble.
“Not just a dream,” he counters. “A memory.”
I don’t answer, but I don’t have to. He already knows.
I curl my fingers into the sheets, twisting the fabric like it might keep me from unraveling. The words are right there, burning my throat, but saying them makes them real. Saying them means I have to let him see the parts of me I’ve spent years hiding.
I can’t.
I won’t.
But then he does something else I don’t expect.
He reaches out, not touching me, just resting his hand palm-up on the bed between us. A silent offering.
A choice.
I stare at it, my pulse thudding in my ears. I don’t know why, but it makes something crack inside me, something fragile and aching. He’s not pushing, not demanding, just… waiting.
And for the first time in a long time, I let go.
“Dante owned me,” I whisper.
The words drop into the silence like stones into deep water, sinking, twisting, leaving ripples that I can’t take back.
Emmett doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. His fingers curl slightly, like he wants to reach for me but knows better.
I drag in a breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “And I don’t mean in the way most men think they own women. He didn’t just control my life—he was my life. He decided when I ate, when I slept, who I talked to. And when I tried to leave—”
I break off, my throat closing around the rest of the sentence. My hands are shaking, but I don’t try to hide it this time.
Emmett’s jaw tightens, his whole body going still, like a predator scenting blood. But when he speaks, his voice is careful. Measured.
“How did you get away?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “I didn’t.”
He frowns. “You’re here.”
“Because I ran.” I swallow, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because I got lucky. But you don’t escape a man like Dante. You just delay the inevitable.”
Emmett’s gaze darkens. “The hell you do.”
I shake my head. “You don’t know him, Emmett. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
His expression doesn’t change. But there’s something in his eyes now, something cold and absolute. “Then tell me.”
I exhale shakily, glancing away. “I don’t need a savior.”
“I’m not your savior,” he says simply. “But I sure as hell am not letting you fight this alone.”
I should argue. I should tell him I don’t need him, that I can take care of myself.
But for the first time in years, I don’t want to fight alone.
Sleep isn’t coming back. I can feel it—the heaviness in my bones is exhaustion, not the pull of rest. I know myself well enough to know that if I close my eyes, the nightmare will be waiting, coiled in the darkness like a snake ready to strike.
Emmett must see it too, because he doesn’t move. Doesn’t make any attempt to leave.
He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "What were you doing at Asher and Selena’s wedding?"
The question catches me off guard. Out of all the things he could ask, I didn’t expect that.
I shift, pulling the blanket tighter around myself, stalling. "Does it matter?"
His gaze is steady. "Yeah."
I sigh, glancing away. "I needed to see someone."
"Who?"
I hesitate. He’s already pulled more out of me tonight than anyone has in years, but something about the way he’s looking at me—patient, unrelenting—makes me keep going. "Theo. I knew he’d be there. He’s the only person I could trust to get me a new identity. A fresh start."
Emmett leans back, his expression unreadable. "And did he?"
"No." I let out a humorless laugh. "He said it was too risky. That I needed to stay put until he figured something out."
He grunts, as if that doesn’t surprise him. "Theo’s smart. He doesn’t do anything unless he’s sure."
I nod, biting my lip. "That’s what scares me. He didn’t think it was possible. If he can’t find a way to make me disappear, then who the hell can?"
Emmett doesn’t answer right away, but his silence isn’t empty. It’s thick, heavy, filled with thoughts he isn’t ready to share.
I shift, rubbing at my temples. "What about you? Why were you there?"
He hesitates, then shrugs. "Asher’s a friend. That’s the simple answer. The real answer? I don’t know. I don’t belong in places like that. Watching him and Selena... it just reminded me that some people get out. Some people get a happy ending."
I glance at him, and for the first time, I see something raw in his expression. Something haunted. "And you don’t think you’re one of them?"
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. "No."
I watch him for a long moment, then say quietly, "Me neither."
The room goes silent again, but it’s different this time. It’s not heavy. It’s not suffocating. It’s just... there. A quiet understanding stretching between us like a bridge neither of us expected to build.
I don’t know how long we sit there, just breathing, just existing in the same space without needing to fill it. And maybe that’s the strangest part of all.
Because for the first time in a long, long time, I don’t feel so alone.