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When I come to the first time, the scent of sunshine and security is strong and solid against my body. A warm, calloused hand is hooked around my knee, a strong arm looped around my back.

“Don’t you fucking stop this vehicle.”

“They’ve got us caged in. We’re either stopping or crashing,” the driver grits out.

The chest I’m cradled against rumbles with a growl. “Just make sure you crash us through and keep going. We are not fucking stopping.”

“But—”

“Just do it.” Then, softer, lips pressed to my filthy hair, “Hold on, hummingbird. I’ll keep you safe.”

The engine revs.

Tires squeal.

Metal crunches.

And blackness takes me.

The second time consciousness finds me, I squeeze my eyes tightly closed, the light above me harsh and abrasive. Fingers skate down my left side, touching and pressing on my ribs as paper crinkles, sticking to my skin as I try to shift away. From the touch? From the pain? I’m not quite sure, but I’m caught in the chasm between staying perfectly still and clawing myself away.

The warm, solid wall of security has been replaced by a cold, unforgiving surface. The scent of sunshine and safety, overpowered by something sterile and antiseptic.

I don’t like it.

I want to go back. Not to the dark, dank room filled with pain, but to the warmth. To the arms that held me close and sure.

“Pretty sure at least two ribs broken, not much I can do for those. Painkillers, rest, limited activity. The wounds, though. Where did you say you found her?”

It takes everything I have not to move, not to react, not to scramble away. Instead, I keep my body motionless, stiff and awkward, making sure they don’t know I’m awake.

“I didn’t. Though I did tell you if you hurt her, I will do the same to you, ten times over.”

The probing, painful touch stops leaving me breathless and floating until a warm hand envelops one of mine. The callouses dotting the palm rasp across my skin, and I calm just enough that my muscles stop pulling against my apparently broken ribs.

“I’ll, uh… I’ll be back in a minute with something for pain and the crap I need to clean up the rest of⁠—”

The distinctive sound of a door closing cuts off the rest of the man’s sentence followed by a huffed sigh.

The air in the room shifts, chaos and tension yield to calm.

“Promised to keep you safe, hummingbird. I always keep my promises.” Soft lips brush against my knuckles with each word. “I know you’re awake. Doc’s going to give some medicine, clean your other…wounds. If he hurts you, you squeeze my hand, yeah?”

I count to ten, fifteen… At twenty-three, a thumb strokes the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist.

“Give me a little squeeze so I know you’ve heard me.” My finger twitches. “A little squeeze, love. Just a small press. I know you can do it.”

The door opens, admitting the doctor.

I pinch my forefinger and thumb together, squeezing the hand of the man who keeps me from falling apart.

A low laugh turns to a rumbled growl as a needle is shoved into my ass cheek, and my pinch becomes a full clench.

“Fucking warned you about hurting her. That’s one.”

Light recedes from the edges of my vision, tunneling until the world goes dark.

The third time my eyes flutter open, the ground is moving beneath me, and I’m cradled in the strong arms once again. My head is heavy, the world around me fuzzy and hazy.