You’re tangled in the sheets, skin still warm from Rafe’s arms, when the darkness claws you back under. The nightmare doesn’t creep in it crashes, sudden and overwhelming. One second you’re sleeping, the next you’re sinking, lost in a swirl of shadows and distant screams that don’t belong to anyone you know but feel like they’re coming from inside you. It’s not even the images that stay with you, but the feeling that tight, helpless panic, like you’re running out of time and air all at once.

You jolt awake with a gasp, your chest heaving, sweat slicking your skin. The room is dark, quiet, too quiet, except for the sound of your breathing. Your eyes dart around, trying to separate dream from reality, but it clings to you like fog. The ceiling above is unfamiliar for a moment until the scent of him hits you. Rafe. His cologne, faint but still there. The warmth of his body right beside you.

He shifts almost immediately, his instincts sharp even in sleep. His hand finds your shoulder before he even opens his eyes. “Hey,” he says, voice low and rough with sleep. “You okay?”

You want to lie. Say yes. Say it was nothing. But the words don’t come.

Instead, your silence stretches between you, and he doesn’t press. Just moves closer, sliding an arm around you, guiding you back down to the mattress like he knows exactly how to hold you without making you feel trapped. His chest is against your back now, solid and steady, like an anchor.

“It was just a dream,” he murmurs “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Your eyes close, even though sleep feels a thousand miles away. But the panic starts to ebb, just a little, pulled out to sea by the sound of his breathing and the steady beat of his heart behind you.

You don’t say thank you. You don’t have to. He just holds you tighter, like he’s willing to keep the nightmare away himself if it dares come back.