Darcy's eyes snapped open. A sharp breath tore his chest as though he had just been pulled out of water. Cold sweat dripped down the sides of his face, soaking his collar. His hands trembled uncontrollably, fingertips twitching in the air. His ears rang, high-pitched and relentless. What happened?
His lashes fluttered. Slowly, his blurry vision came into focus, the vague shapes around him forming into something solid.
The first thing he saw was a pale face hovering just inches above his own, Micah's.
His silver hair was messy, clinging to his forehead from panic and sweat. His eyes, wide and filled with concern, trembled as if they might spill tears at any second. His voice was broken and shaky. "Hey, hey… are you alright? Talk to me!"
Another voice overlapped, lower and calmer. "Micah, let him go. Calm down first."
Darcy's mind registered it… Clyde's voice.
