Phoebe's POV
I drifted between wakefulness and oblivion, like drowning beneath dark waters with no sense of which direction led to air. My chest ached with crushing weight, my throat burned raw.
Yet warmth wrapped around me—a tender presence, a voice that wouldn't let me go. Someone kept saying my name, over and over, with desperate gentleness. I knew that voice anywhere.
Perry?
I struggled against the exhaustion pulling me under, fighting the comfortable darkness that promised rest. Sleep called to me, but something stronger held me back.
I had to surface. I had to wake up. His voice carried such anguish, such pain—hearing him suffer cut deeper than any physical wound. What was wrong? Why did he sound so broken? Had something terrible happened?
My need to reach him, to ease whatever tormented him, burned fiercer than my desire to surrender to the peaceful void.
With tremendous effort, I forced my body to respond. My eyes cracked open.
Water surrounded me completely.
