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The voice in my head is nowhere to be found. The sound of my strangled breathing distantly reaches my ears. Nausea rolls over me. I can’t breathe.

I can’t.

My entire body starts to shake, trembling like a leaf in a storm. My eyes sting. There’s a rock in my throat, an ache in my chest that threatens to rip me in half.

“Raina.”

Fear shreds through me, and my vision loses focus.

“Stop fucking fighting me, little bitch,” Rodderick snarled, biting my shoulder.

No. No. No, NO. My fingers dive into my hair, tugging at the strands like they’re strings tethered to the memories and I can rip them out. I pull hard, pain lighting up my scalp. Anything to make it end.

“Whoa. Whoa. Stop, you’ll hurt yourself.” He grabs my wrists, trapping me.

Fight. I have to fight. Fear has me in a choke hold, and I desperately grasp for control. I buck and fight his hold, trying to shove him away, but it’s like trying to move a mountain. I’m trapped. Trapped, again. Sobbing, I push at him. “Please, no.”

“Raina,” he repeats, this time with more force.

I can’t make sense of what he says next. I pinch my eyes and wait for what’s to come, trembling, crying. A moment passes, then several more, and then a minute. Nothing happens. I blink, shaking off the vestiges of that memory. I expect Rodderick to be the one pinning my wrists, but it’s only the shifter before me.

“Breathe.” The word registers this time. “With me, inhale.” Rowan’s chest rises.

His eyes are glowing so brightly it’s a wonder he hasn’t shifted yet. His grip is firm, but it doesn’t hurt.

I swallow the rock in my throat. Nothing has ever confused me more. He isn’t attacking me, forcing me to⁠—

“Please,” I whisper. My lungs scream for oxygen.

“You’re okay,” he tells me, touch still gentle. “Breathe with me, Raina.”

He’s trying to help me?

“Can you do that?”

My throat aches so terribly I’m afraid to speak, but I manage a nod.

Rowan’s chest rises.

I suck in a shaky breath, battling to get air into my lungs.

He exhales.

So do I.

Again and again. Slowly, the claws of terror recede, leaving me shivering in the warm pool, veins aching from the shot of adrenaline that coursed through me. When my breath matches his count for count and the world steadies, he searches my face.

“Better?” He still has my wrists.

“Let me go,” I all but growl, jerking my arms. Rowan lets me go, taking a few steps back. It’s not that far, but to me it feels like a massive crater between our bodies. The relief is instant, though my heart still knocks against my ribs.

“Sorry, I wouldn’t have touched you, but you were having a panic attack.”

“How would you know?” The words are biting. He helped me calm down, sure, but I’m still not sure he’s safe. It could be a trap.

“I had a sister,” he begins softly, pain slashing across his features. “She was four years older than me and she was my best friend. She was assaulted.” His voice cracks, but he holds my gaze. “Savagely. She was barely alive when they found her.” His eyes move back and forth, shifting between mine, imploring me to understand. “She had panic attacks, too, just like you did . . . she’d try to hurt herself and—” He cuts off and swallows hard, looking down at the water. “She killed herself a few months after.”

My insides twist. I open my mouth to say something . . . then close it, forehead bunched. Why is he telling me this?