Chapter 184

• Ryan flicked the light switch with his elbow, the room flooding with a harsh yellow glow while his iron grip never slackened on Daisy's wrists. His eyes widened in stunned disbelief—she was awake, alive, and fierce after weeks in that coma, her small frame trembling under his hold. Her face was a mask of pure panic, eyes wild and haunted, pupils blown wide with terror; it hit him like a gut punch—natural, of course, after surviving that brutal subway attack and mistaking him for the monster who'd slashed her throat.
• He released her wrists gently, stepping back half a pace, but she lunged again in feral instinct, free hand scrabbling for the scissors on the floor. Ryan caught her arm mid-swing, snatching the blades with his other hand and hurling them across the room—they skittered under the bed with a metallic clatter. "Calm down, Daisy," he said firmly, voice low and steady, hands raised palms out to show no threat.
• She froze, breathing sawing raggedly, squinting through the fear to study his face—strong jaw, kind eyes crinkling with worry. Recognition dawned slow, then sharp. "Ryan... Brown?" The name escaped her in a shaky whisper, her voice hoarse from disuse, cracking on the edges.