Hidden Flame

I shot upright, a ragged gasp tearing from my throat as panic crashed over me. My chest heaved, each breath shallow and desperate, while my fingers twisted in the damp, tangled sheets. My heart pounded so violently it felt like it might break free from my ribcage. For a moment, everything around me was a distorted blur of shadows and shapes, the room unfamiliar and suffocating.

Until reality clicked into place. It was just a dream.

"Dude..." Chessie's voice sliced through the heavy silence, jolting me from the haze of the nightmare. Her eyes were wide with concern, fixed on me from across the room. "Are you okay?"

I pulled my knees tighter against my chest, pressing my forehead into them in an attempt to steady myself. My breaths came in shallow bursts, still ragged, but the nightmare's lingering grip wouldn't let go. My palms were slick with sweat, my body trembling like a leaf caught in a storm.

"Yeah," I rasped, my voice barely a whisper, raw and shaky. "It was just a nightmare."

"A bad one, obviously." Chessie's voice softened, her gaze flicking to the clock on her nightstand as if she was trying to balance her concern with practicality. "Well, it's morning anyway. Time to get up."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching with a casual ease that felt worlds away from the chaos still twisting inside me. Her calmness was grounding, though—it helped, even if just a little.

But I stayed frozen, trapped in the moment as the remnants of the dream flickered through my mind—raw, haunting, relentless. I gritted my teeth, trying to force it all down, because I couldn't afford to let it consume me. There was no time for lingering on the nightmare; today had to go on.

With a shaky breath, I shoved the covers off and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Staying under the blankets wasn't an option, no matter how much my body begged for the escape of sleep.

I stumbled to the bathroom, hands still trembling as I gripped the sink for support. I splashed cold water on my face, the sharp shock of it a brutal reminder that I needed to wake up.

"Feel better?" Chessie teased from the doorway, her hairbrush in hand, her voice light but with a knowing edge.

"Maybe a little," I mumbled, forcing a weak laugh as droplets of water trailed down my face.

"That must've been one hell of a dream," she mused, her curiosity piqued. "What was it about?"

My stomach knotted. I couldn't tell her the truth about what it really was about—it would unravel everything. Instead, I reached for the simplest, most generic answer I could think of.

"I was falling off a building," I said, the words slipping off my tongue too easily. I forced a shudder, my body responding to the fabricated memory. "You know how I feel about heights. It was awful."

Chessie's face softened with sympathy. "Ugh, I've had those dreams before. Free-falling is the worst."

"Yeah," I murmured, offering her a faint smile that didn't reach my eyes. Inside, I longed for the nightmare to be that simple. But it wasn't. Not by a long shot.

We fell into the rhythm of our morning routine, the mechanical motions of getting ready almost comforting in their familiarity.

The combat center hummed with energy as Chessie and I stepped off the elevator. My eyes quickly scanned the room, searching for any sign of what the day held in store. The low murmur of voices filled the air, but then a familiar call sliced through the chatter.

"Olivia!"

I turned toward the sound of my name and found Luke standing near the wall, his uniform sharp and his expression softening with visible relief as our gazes locked.