Rain POV
I screamed.
And jolted awake — my whole body was drenched in sweat, cold and sticky against my skin. My heart thundered like a war drum. My lungs ached from how hard I was breathing.
Eric was crouched nearby, stirring the dying campfire, shadows painting his face.
"You were talking in your sleep," he said, his voice rough, worried. His hand moved like he wanted to touch my shoulder.
I jerked away, scrambling to a corner of the rock. Shaking.
"Rain?" Eric called, moving closer.
"Hey… what is it? Are you alright?"
I didn't answer.
Not yet.
My eyes darted around, scanning every shadow, every rock. I half expected that crown of bones to still be there, grinning at me.
"It's okay, Rain. You're safe now."
Eric's voice was low. Careful.
Safe.
Like hell I was.
"Rain?" Batista's weak voice called from nearby, hoarse and broken.
"What happened?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Bad dream," Eric replied, not taking his eyes off me.
"A real bad one."
