Page 59 of Burn Like An Angel

Blinking hard, I move robotically. My stiff body protests as I crawl over to him on quivering limbs. Raine grunts when I slam into him, climbing onto his lap and banding my legs around his waist.

“Shit, babe. You’re shaking.”

He strokes my back, letting me plaster against his chest like a fucking limpet. I want to crawl inside his skin and hide there until this is all over. I don’t have to be brave around him.

“I’m scared,” I admit shakily. “I can’t hide it anymore.”

I’ve spent years burying my fear, pretending to be some formidable badass, when deep down I’m just fucking terrified. I trust Raine to understand and protect that vulnerability.

“Breathe, Rip. I know how hard this is. We have to sit tight.”

“Breathe?” I laugh. “We’re going to die!”

“We’re not going to die.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” Raine insists fiercely. “You need to calm down.”

Rocking back and forth, his attempts to soothe me fall on deaf ears. I may not be thinking logically, but my sudden urgency to be anywhere but here makes complete sense to my overwhelmed mind.

My head feels like it’s on fire. The slow burn of rising hysteria only needed acknowledging for it to take full control. It’s rushing in now, setting aflame anything in its path and gathering speed with each second.

We’re running out of food. Freezing cold and constantly soaking wet. No medication. We have just a single flashlight with very limited life remaining. No plan for rescue or escape. Even Raine’s withdrawal meds are running low.

My big, grand decision not to run is going to get us all quietly killed. That’s how they’ll keep our stories silent, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. We’ll be forgotten. Erased. The slate wiped clean like it always is.

“Ripley,” Raine urges. “Come back. I’m here. You’re safe.”

“We are not safe!”

“From the world? Fuck no.” He chuckles bitterly. “But you’ll always be safe with me.”

I want that to be enough. Itisenough. All I’ve ever wanted, beneath the role I’ve played, is for someone to make me feel safe in a world determined to prove otherwise. But I want Raine safe too, and that won’t happen here.

“Come on, babe.” Sliding a hand into my hair, he gently massages my head. “Focus on my voice. Can you feel my breathing?”

“Yes,” I gasp.

“Good girl. Pay attention to it. I want you to block everything else out. It’s just us.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I focus on the feel of his body pressing into mine. The lines I’ve memorised over the weeks and months. Soft angles. Muscled ridges. The smell of fresh oranges and tangy sea salt.

In a terrifying world, Raine is a solid constant. The confident, smirking jokester hiding a lifetime of trauma behind blacked-out lenses. Everything about him defies the odds. He’s living proof of human resilience.

It’s what first intrigued me, back when he was just another patient, sniffing around for contraband. The silver-tongued flirt with all the right words. Every syllable interwoven with deep, irrecoverable pain.

“Don’t let the fear win, Rip. We’re all afraid. Defeated. Exhausted. That just means we’re winning the fight—because we’re still alive to feel all those things.”

“For how much longer?” I squirm on his lap.

“That I can’t say. But I think every single one of us has proven that we’re kinda difficult to kill. We’ve all survived shit beyond most people’s worst nightmares. We can survive this too.”

His fingers pressing into my skull causes me to flinch. My body is wound so tight, every small sensation is agonisingly intense. I don’t know if I need to fight, fuck or flee. I’m longing for the oblivion of sedatives.

“Tell me what you need,” Raine begs.

I can’t possibly answer him, and the stirrings of another prevent me from having to confess.

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