Her fingers twitch.
My breath catches.
Ethan notices it, too, his brows drawing together in focused intensity. “She can hear us,” he says. “Keep talking.”
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers, grounding myself in the touch. “You scared the hell out of us,” I murmur, forcing my voice to stay steady. “But we found you. We’ll always find you.”
Tyler kneels beside me again, exhaling slowly. “You don’t have to do this alone, Soph,” he adds. “Let us help you.”
A soft sound escapes her lips, and she shifts, just slightly, pressing into the warmth of the blankets.
Relief slams into me so hard that I feel dizzy.
She’s coming back to us.
Ethan lets out a slow breath, his fingers tightening on the blanket around her. “She’s stabilizing.”
With that the weight in my chest eases.
I don’t move from her side. None of us do.
The storm rages outside, but in here, she’s safe.
And we’ll make damn sure she stays that way.
22
ETHAN
The fire crackles behind me, filling the room with a steady warmth, but it does nothing to touch the cold sinking into my chest. My fists clench at my sides as I watch Brodie kneel beside Sophie, his movements careful, deliberate.
Too slow. I know he’s being as gentle as possible, but every second that ticks by feels like a lifetime.
Her skin is too pale, her breathing too shallow. The sight of her lying there like this makes my stomach twist, a primal fear clawing up my throat.
She should be fighting. Snapping at me. Arguing about something just to piss me off. Not lying here, unmoving, like a flame on the verge of going out.
Brodie strips off his shirt, then his pants, before sliding under the blankets with her. My Alpha bristles, a sharp growl rising in my chest before I swallow it down.Fuck.I know why he’s doing it. It’s the fastest way to get heat back into her body, to keep her from slipping further.
But that logic does nothing to stop the possessive rage scraping against my ribs, the need to be the one holding her, keeping her warm, making sure she survives this.
Tyler moves swiftly, layering more blankets over them, his face set in tight, worried lines. “She’s still too cold,” he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.
He snatches up his phone, dialing with shaking hands. I strain to listen, catching only fragments of the conversation.
“No one can get through the storm?” Tyler’s voice sharpens, his frustration mounting. “What about air support? Damn it, okay. What do we do in the meantime?”
I watch as he nods grimly, his fingers tightening around the phone. “Monitor her breathing. Keep her warm. Check for responsiveness. Got it.”
When he hangs up, his expression is tight, controlled—but I see the fear just beneath the surface. “They’ll try to get here as soon as they can, but we’re on our own for now.”
The weight of those words settles over the room, thick and suffocating.
I step closer to the hearth, adding more logs to the fire, watching as the flames lick higher. It’s something to do with my hands, something to keep me from looking at her and feeling the helplessness threatening to drag me under.
Tyler pulls a chair closer, his usual cocky smirk nowhere to be found. Brodie stays where he is, whispering something against Sophie’s temple, his arms locked around her like he’s afraid she’ll disappear.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the wind howling against the windows. It’s not just the storm raging outside. I can feel it in my chest—a relentless, gnawing fear that won’t let go.