Rain's POV:
My feet feel cold.
Warm hands are suddenly everywhere—too fast—gripping me, rolling me, dragging me.
Fingers dig into my arms, my shoulders, my waist.
I try to shake them off, half-asleep, heart slamming against my ribs, but the grip only tightens.
More desperate.
More frantic.
Then I hear it.
A violent ripping sound.
Glass exploding.
"What the hell—" I gasp, jolting awake.
Dane is in my room.
Pacing.
Back and forth, sharp and erratic, like a caged animal that's run out of walls.
He's barefoot. His hair is wild.
His chest heaves like he hasn't breathed properly in hours.
"Dane, what the fuck are you doing?" I scream.
He doesn't even react.
"They're right there," he mutters, over and over, voice shredded.
"They're right there. I feel it. I fucking feel it."
The way he says it—like it's a certainty, like it's already happening—sends ice straight down my spine.
He looks absolutely terrified.
It scares me more than anything else could.
