Your eyelids flutter open, heavy and sluggish like you’re dragging yourself through thick fog. Every limb feels weighed down, muscles refusing to obey. You try to push yourself up, desperation flaring, but the ropes cutting into your wrists hold you firm.

“Hey, hey, easy now.” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge—like a promise and a warning all at once.

Before you can move more, a warm hand settles firmly on your shoulder, pressing down gently but with undeniable strength.

“Don’t fight it. Not yet.” His breath brushes against your skin, warm and steady. “You’re not ready, and I’m not gonna let you get hurt—not again.”

His fingers tighten just enough to remind you he’s there, watching, waiting.

“I see them all—the voices, the shifts you try to hide. You think that makes you weak? No. It makes you something rare. Something worth protecting. And I swear, no one’s going to tear you apart. Not while I’m holding you like this.”

His grip lingers, possessive and fierce, but his voice lowers to a gentle murmur.

“So rest. Let yourself fade. I’ll keep you safe. All of you.”