In the early hours of the next day, Katelynn jolted awake, instinctively reaching out her hand to the empty space beside her.
A cold sweat broke out across her skin, panic flooding her veins. She couldn't bear to open her eyes—she was terrified that the nightmare she'd escaped had returned to claim her again, whispering in her ear that everything she loved would be ripped away.
The thought of it made her stomach twist, like a knot of old fears—abandonment, loneliness—roots going all the way back to the orphanage. That kind of emptiness had been her companion for so long.
She thought she was past caring, past fearing loss, but here she was, stiff with fear, afraid to even breathe, as if her very pores had opened to let the dread seep in.
"What's wrong?" Lieselotte's voice broke through the fog of terror, her arm wrapping around Katelynn, pulling her close. Her breath was warm on Katelynn's neck, soft and steady, grounding her.
