[Third Person].
Meredith woke with a violent gasp.
Her body jerked upright as if dragged by memory rather than muscle, her lungs burning as she sucked in air too fast, too shallow.
Then, a harsh cough tore from her throat, followed by another, and another—her chest spasming as phantom water flooded her senses.
Her hands flew to her neck, and the river rushed back into her mind all at once. Cold. Pressure. Something unseen pulling her down.
She gagged, coughing hard, water that wasn't there stinging her nose, her ears, her lungs. Her whole body shook as panic took hold, breath turning erratic, eyes wide and unfocused.
"Meredith."
Draven was there instantly, having quickly finished buttoning up his shirt.
He was already on the bed before she fully registered movement, one arm wrapping firmly around her back, the other bracing her shoulders as he pulled her against him—solid, warm, unmistakably real.
"You're safe," he said, voice low but urgent. "You're safe. I've got you."
