A sharp pain tore through me, so sudden that I cried out.
In my haze, I felt a heavy body above me. Heat. Pressure. An aggressive force that did not wait for permission. My limbs felt weak, my strength drained by fever and old wounds that refused to heal. I tried to push him away, but my arms felt like water.
Pain mixed with anger. With humiliation.
I wanted to fight. My instincts screamed at me to resist, to claw, to bite, to protect myself. But my body would not listen. All I could do was endure the overwhelming heat and the crushing weight pressing me into darkness.
Then everything shifted.
The room disappeared. Thunder roared above me. Rain poured down in cold sheets. I was back on that street from two years ago, soaked and trembling. My clothes were torn. My skin ached. I could barely stand, yet I forced myself forward.
I clutched my phone with shaking hands and dialed the number again.
Fabes.
Fabes, where are you?
Please… come find me.
The call didn't go through. Just that same cold, empty voice telling me the line was busy.
Again.
Busy.
Again.
Busy.
The rain blurred my vision. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the wet pavement. I remember the cold biting into my bones and the feeling that something inside me had died that night.
I couldn't move.
I couldn't breathe.
I was alone.
"Vivian."
A distant voice cut through the storm.
The rain vanished. The darkness softened. I was still trembling, my body drenched in sweat instead of rain.
Through the blur of half-consciousness, I heard another voice.
"She just has a fever. The cold triggered it. She's probably having a nightmare."
Nightmare.
If only it were just that.
When the doctor left, I felt a presence sit closer to me. Calm. Controlled. Strong. Even without opening my eyes, I knew it was Finnick.
His scent was steady, like cedar and winter air. It wrapped around me, grounding my scattered senses.
"Vivian?" he called again, lower this time. "Are you alright?"
I couldn't answer. My lips moved on their own.
"Fabes… save me… please believe me…"
Silence filled the room after that.
Even in my fever, I felt the shift.
The air grew colder. Heavier.
When I finally drifted upward from the darkness, my eyelids fluttered open. The ceiling above me was familiar—the bedroom in the villa. An IV drip tugged gently at my hand.
Finnick was beside the bed, watching me.
He didn't look angry. He looked controlled.
That was worse.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
My throat felt dry and raw. "Did… did you bring me back?"
"Yes." His voice was calm. Too calm. He handed me a cup of warm water. "Drink."
"Thank you."
The words came out automatically. Polite. Distant. The way I always spoke to him.
As I sipped the water, I could feel his gaze on my face. On my chin.
The bruise.
His jaw tightened slightly, though his expression barely changed. He reached for the medical kit beside the bed and squeezed ointment onto his fingers. Without asking, he leaned in and gently applied it to my chin.
The coolness made me flinch.
"Who is Fabes?" he asked quietly.
I choked on my water.
He patted my back, steady and firm, while I coughed. When I looked up, our eyes met. His gaze was deep, unreadable, but there was something sharp beneath it. A possessive edge.
"You were calling his name," he continued. "In your sleep."
My heart sank.
The memory of that night flooded back in pieces. The storm. The calls that never connected. The feeling of being abandoned.
A shadow passed over my eyes before I could stop it.
Finnick straightened slightly. For a moment, he studied me in silence, as if piecing together something he had already suspected. I knew he had investigated my past. As Alpha of his pack, he missed nothing.
"Vivian," he said at last, his voice low and firm, "I don't care what happened before. But you should understand something."
His hand rested lightly on the mattress near me. Not touching, but close enough that I felt the heat of him.
"You are my mate now. My wife. Bound to me."
The word bound carried weight. It wasn't just legal. It wasn't just ceremonial. It was pack law. Instinct. Claim.
"I don't like hearing my woman call another man's name."
The room fell silent after that.
I could feel my own heartbeat, quick and uneven. His presence filled the space, steady and powerful. He wasn't shouting. He didn't need to. Dominance didn't require volume.
I lowered my gaze.
"I wasn't calling him because I love him," I said softly. "I was calling him because I was scared."
The confession slipped out before I could stop it.
Finnick's eyes darkened slightly.
"For two years," I continued, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm, "I've had that nightmare. It's not about him. It's about what happened that night. The storm. Being alone. Thinking no one would come."
I swallowed hard.
"Not even my Alpha."
The words hung between us.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his hand moved—slowly, deliberately—and brushed a strand of hair away from my damp forehead. His touch was surprisingly gentle.
"You are not alone now," he said.