Page 107 of Viper

“I can’t feel them.”

Dammit, he didn’t like the way her voice hitched and halted.

A white beam lit the water. Its glow stretched beyond them, showing they were safely away from the hot zone containing bits and chunks of fish.

Paige’s body shook violently. He wanted to hold her. To tell her everything would be fine and she was safe, but Jesus Christ, how could he when there were sharks in the water?

“Grab the life preserver!” Striker yelled.

An inflatable slapped against the water near his head. He quickly hooked his arm through the middle and stopped kicking.

They were pulled the remaining distance to the platform at the stern, and before he even let go of the inflatable, his friends’ arms reached into the water. Striker grabbed Paige, lifting her onto the platform, and Havoc and Wraith hauled him up next to her.

Troy quickly caught Paige in his arms and climbed onto the deck. His own legs shook as he sat on the bench seat. He gazed down at her body—pale and lacking circulation.

Reaper shook out a thermal blanket and threw it around Paige’s shoulders. Troy muttered a thank-you as he pulled her against his chest. Striker, Reaper, Havoc, and Wraith backed off and stood in a tight circle on the deck, speaking low among themselves.

She was so fucking cold. Her body shook violently against his. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, trying to generate heat. She tucked her frigid nose against his neck. Her breath came out in short, shallow huffs.

“You found me,” she said, her voice tiny and strained.

He pulled away just enough to study her face. Goddammit, he hated the lack of color in her skin, the grayish tint to her lips, her featherlight breathing.

She swallowed, her slim throat bobbing with the effort. “T-Troy,” she sputtered. “Where’s Craig?”

His jaw responded, clenching hard. “Still alive but restrained.” Holding her face in his palm, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “What’d he do to you, honey?”

He needed to know. As much as it would pain him to hear what she’d endured, what he hadn’t protected her from, he had to shoulder some of it.

She compressed her lips, but her jaw still chattered. All he wanted to do was get her home and into warm clothes. Screw the clothes—he wanted to heat every inch of her with his own body. The fastest way to chase away a chill.

“You don’t need to⁠—”

“Yes, I fucking do,” he said, a little too abruptly. He mentally kicked himself in the ass for sounding so forceful, but fuck.

“I’m sorry.” He kissed her forehead. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand. But don’t hold that shit in for fear of upsetting me, all right?”

She brought her gaze down, resting her focus somewhere on his chest. “H-He made me slice open my hand and put it in the water. Then he pushed my head under.”

Troy’s vision waned. He clenched his back teeth so he wouldn’t combust. He needed her to keep talking.

Silent tears rolled down her cheeks.

He didn’t move. Didn’t try to wipe them away. Not yet. Not while she needed to purge the memories of her nightmare.

She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.

He caught her chin with his knuckle. “Go on, babe. Don’t hold it in.”

Ever so slowly, her gaze dragged up to his face and caught his, ensnaring it. Her expression was filled with horror.

His stomach bunched.

“H-He served me dinner.” The tears came faster. She wiped her eyes with trembling fingertips. “There was a finger in my f-food. He s-said it was Annamay’s.”

His insides turned to acid. He cleared his throat to stop the bile pushing upward. Jesus fucking Christ.

Cold, stark fear hit him in the solar plexus. He pulled Paige against his chest, hugging her all over again. Tonight could have ended very differently.