Page 127 of Operation: Defiance

His words steady me more than my muscles do.

I take a step.

My foot snags on the chair leg.

The world pitches forward.

Before I can process the movement, warmth and strength fold around me—not trapping, not tightening, just catching. Asher’s arm curls around my back, low enough to avoid my bad shoulder and my ribs, his other hand anchoring me gently at my hip. My body meets his chest, solid and immovable, and the contact hits like a shockwave.

My pulse spikes, my breath goes sharp, panic flooding my system.

“Raine,” he says quietly, his voice steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

I can’t answer him. My chest is too tight.

His hold doesn’t shift. I don’t feel restrained. Just supported. His body is a warm, steady wall holding me up, his hands firm enough to keep me from falling, but not digging in or pressing where they shouldn’t.

“I’m going to let go in three seconds,” he says. “One…”

His arm begins to ease.

“Two—”

“No.” The word rips out of me, but not in fear. “Not yet. I’m not steady.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, instantly still. “We stay right here. No movement until you say.”

I close my eyes. His warmth radiates through me, grounding in a way I never expected from any contact, let alone this one. My panic doesn’t vanish, but it bends. Softens into something I can manage. His breath stays slow and even against my temple, a steady rhythm I can use to calm my own.

He doesn’t speak again until I let out a shudder and the tension in my body starts to ease.

“You’re doing the work,” he says. “I’m just holding the line.”

I don’t know how long it takes—minutes stretch and contract strangely when my body is like this—but eventually, the tremor leaves my legs. My balance shifts back into my own control.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “You can let go.”

He releases me immediately, stepping back without pulling or lingering. The loss of contact is sudden but not jarring. I turn, cautiously, meeting his steady gaze.

“I can make it the rest of the way,” I whisper.

He nods. “I know. I’m just along for the ride.”

It’s less than twenty steps to the bed. Asher stays close enough to catch me if gravity and I have another disagreement, but not close enough to crowd me.

When I sit, exhaustion pulls at me like tidewater, but something inside me feels…different. Not because I didn’t panic—but because I came out the other side on my feet.

Because he caught me and didn’t keep me.

Because for the first time in a long time, I didn’t survive contact.

I used it.

And it helped.

Asher

She let me touch her. And while it may have been necessary to keep her from falling, she chose to stay in my arms until she’d fought through her panic.