Page 134 of Operation: Defiance

Asher’s voice cuts through the slide. It’s not loud, not urgent. But it gives me something to grab onto.

I blink. The screen blurs, then snaps back into focus.

“I’m here,” I say, but it sounds thin. Distant.

“No. You’re not. Not quite.” He sits up a little straighter, the movement registering in the corner of my eye.

“What’s happening in your body?” he asks.

“My hands…”

I look down. They’re no longer shaking—they’re still. Too still. Not because I’m calm. Because I’m losing control.

If I don’t stop this, I’ll…disappear.

My pulse flickers in my throat, out of sync with my breathing.

“I feel…” The words catch. “Untethered.”

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Start with something simple. Your feet.”

I try to find them.

It takes too long.

“Raine.” His voice is sharper now. “Look at one thing in the room that isn’t moving.”

My gaze locks on his hand. The broad span of it. The steadiness in the way he keeps it there—visible, still.

“Good,” he says quietly. “Now breathe to match something constant. Mine, if that works.”

I drag in a slow inhale.

His chest rises and falls in a slow, predictable rhythm. A metronome when everything inside me is slipping sideways.

“One more,” he murmurs.

And suddenly⁠—

I’m back in my body enough to register how far I’d drifted.

Asher doesn’t move. Doesn’t push closer. Doesn’t try to comfort me with his words.

He just waits, his presence steady, tethering me to the world.

My fingers twitch first. Small, but real. A signal returning.

“There you are,” he says softly.

Something eases in my chest—a tiny click of alignment, like a loose gear finally catching its teeth.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I’m not. Not fully. But I’m here. That counts.

Asher nods. “Do you want a break?”

I look at the screen.

Yes.