Phoebe's POV
I was drowning.
Not in water—in something thicker, darker. Every breath felt like swallowing liquid lead. My lungs screamed for air that wouldn't come.
But through the suffocating darkness, I heard him.
Perry's voice cut through the void like a lifeline thrown to a drowning woman. He kept saying my name, over and over, each repetition laced with raw desperation that made my heart clench.
"Phoebe... please... wake up..."
His anguish was worse than my own pain. Whatever was happening to me, it was destroying him. I had to get back. I had to reach him.
The comfortable darkness whispered seductive promises of rest, of peace, of an end to all struggle. But Perry's broken voice anchored me to consciousness. I couldn't abandon him. Not when he sounded so lost.
I forced my eyes open.
