Darkness didn’t snap away. It eased back slowly, unevenly, until the first thing Erica became aware of wasn’t her body at all, but the UI hovering in perfect clarity as if it had been waiting for her to catch up.
Her eyes were still closed, but she could see.
HP: 5 / 691
Status: Critical Condition
Consciousness: Restoring…
She didn’t move, not because she couldn’t, but because her body hadn’t fully returned to her yet. The memory of pain still lingered somewhere deep, dull and distant now, like an echo that refused to fade completely. What replaced it felt wrong in a different way, not pain, not comfort, just absence where something catastrophic should have been.
Then sensation began to return.
Slowly.
There was something beneath her. Not stone, not sand, not the harsh scrape of the desert. This had give to it. Soft layers that shifted slightly with her breathing, supporting her weight instead of resisting it. A blanket rested over her, light but warm, tucked carefully across her body. Beneath that, she felt it clearly now, tight wrappings around her midsection, bandages layered thick across her stomach and ribs, binding the place where she knew something had gone straight through her.
A bed.
The realization settled in as her awareness expanded. She was contained, supported, held in place like something fragile that had just barely been put back together.
Safe.
For now.
She stayed still, letting that settle, letting her mind catch up before her body tried to.
Then the chat pulled her attention.
It flickered into focus at the edge of her vision, already moving, already alive.
Viewer Count: 9
They were talking over each other, messages stacking fast.
───
GraveyardShift92:
SHE’S MOVING! I SAW HER HAND TWITCH!
VelvetHex:
NO WAY DID SHE LIVE???
xXNoScopeNunXx:
BRO SHE GOT IMPALED
LIKE STRAIGHT THROUGH
───
Erica swallowed slowly.
Yeah.
She remembered that part.
───
CoffinCrafter:
Lame, I hoped she would die, the whole freaking Helsing brigade saved her ass. Lucky bitch.
Plus she had that npc hard carry the whole fight.
GraveyardShift92:
yeah the black-haired one
what was her name again???
VelvetHex:
TERESA
TERESA VAN HELSING
───
Her chest tightened slightly.
They were paying attention.
───
IronVeinTV:
i’m still stuck on the pov name
IronVeinTV:
erica van helsing???
ByteMage:
that’s why people are here
it was trending for a second
───
Erica’s brows pulled together faintly.
Trending?
───
ByteMage:
you literally can’t make that name
it’s locked
devs blocked all helsing surnames
───
More messages layered in quickly.
───
GraveyardShift92:
yeah that’s why i clicked
thought it was fake at first
CoffinCrafter:
same
but the pov is real
───
Erica exhaled slowly.
So they didn’t find her randomly.
They came because of the name.
Because it wasn’t supposed to exist.
───
SaltDealer88:
still think it’s a hack
some dev account or something
IronVeinTV:
nah devs don’t stream like this
VelvetHex:
and not with that camera quality, shes probably on a free account
───
Her awareness shifted upward, catching the faint shimmer of the lens hovering above her. It tracked her even now, subtle and patient, adjusting without being seen.
Watching.
They were all watching through her.
───
xXNoScopeNunXx:
yo real talk tho
that npc is CARRYING her
GraveyardShift92:
not even carrying
SHE’S HARD CARRYING
───
Erica pressed her lips together slightly.
…yeah.
───
CoffinCrafter:
she couldn’t even kill one
those things had like 3k hp
VelvetHex:
and regen
she was just stalling
───
That one hit a little harder than the rest.
Not wrong.
Just blunt.
She let it sit, her thoughts catching up as her body slowly followed. Her fingers twitched faintly against the blanket, feeling texture for the first time. Her abdomen felt tight under the bandages, not painful, but held together in a way that reminded her exactly what had happened.
The room began to bleed into her awareness next. A soft mechanical hum layered under silence. The faint clink of metal. Controlled air instead of dry desert heat.
Teresa.
Alive.
Still here.
Erica let out the smallest breath she could manage, something in her chest loosening just enough to matter.
The chat kept moving.
───
ByteMage:
either way this is wild
i’m staying
VelvetHex:
same
GraveyardShift92:
same
───
Another notification flickered.
───
System:
+1 Subscriber
+1 Subscriber
+1 Subscriber
Total Subscribers: 12
───
Not many.
But not zero.
Her mind shifted slightly.
If they were here because of the name, then that was her hook. Not pretending to be something else. Not hiding. Just… existing in a way they couldn’t explain.
The idea of acting like an NPC brushed past her thoughts again, and she immediately dismissed it.
No.
That wouldn’t work.
They wouldn’t donate to her. They’d assume they are donating to the system, to the game itself. She’d just become content instead of a person. No one would give a company more money.
“…that’s useless,” she murmured quietly.
Her fingers curled slightly into the blanket, testing movement again.
“…alright.”
Then her eyes opened.
───
The world returned fully.
The ceiling arched high above her like a cathedral, carved stone stretching upward into shadow, but threaded through it were thin lines of glowing blue light that pulsed faintly like veins. Metal fixtures lined the walls, holding glass cylinders filled with softly glowing liquid, instruments humming quietly with controlled precision.
It was gothic.
But wrong.
Or maybe… evolved.
“…okay,” Erica said under her breath.
She pushed herself upright slowly, the bandages around her midsection pulling tight as she moved. They were clean but thick, wrapped across her torso and ribs, faint staining where the wound had been. No pain, but her body remembered it.
The UI flickered again.
───
SYSTEM RECALIBRATION IN PROGRESS
COMBAT DATA PROCESSING
───
Numbers shifted.
───
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
LEVEL UP
───
“…alright…”
───
CURRENT LEVEL: 45
───
She exhaled slowly.
“Guess that makes the pain worth it,” she murmured.
No rewards appeared.
No drops.
“…right. No inventory. And I was unconscious.”
She checked her stats quickly, letting the numbers settle before dismissing them again.
Then she looked up at the camera.
Viewer Count: 17
Still climbing.
She gave a small, slightly awkward smile.
“Hey guys,” she said. “Thanks for watching.”
A beat.
“…anyone get the license plate on the truck that hit me last night?”
Chat exploded.
───
GraveyardShift92:
LMAOOOO
VelvetHex:
OKAY SHE’S REAL
xXNoScopeNunXx:
NAH THAT WAS CRINGE
CoffinCrafter:
yeah not an npc lol
───
Good.
That worked.
She swung her legs off the bed, bare feet touching cold stone etched with faint glowing lines beneath the surface.
The door opened.
Teresa stepped in.
She looked… reset, but not untouched. Her dark combat attire had been cleaned, though faint streaks of dried blood still marked the edges of her sleeves and collar. The outfit itself was fitted and practical, layered leather reinforced with metal plating along her shoulders and forearms. Her hair was pulled back tighter than before, though a few strands had come loose around her face.
For a second, she just looked at Erica.
Then she moved.
She crossed the room quickly and pulled Erica into a tight hug, one arm wrapping around her shoulders, the other pressing firmly against her back as if confirming she was actually there.
Erica blinked, then laughed softly, returning it.
“Hey… I’m good. I think.”
Teresa held her a moment longer before pulling back.
“You shouldn't be,” she said quietly. “But you are.”
“Yeah,” Erica said. “That’s no unlucky huh.”
The door opened again.
The room shifted.
A man stepped inside, and the difference in presence was immediate. He wore dark, tailored clothing layered with reinforced armor plating that looked both ceremonial and functional, like every piece had been designed for a funeral and a battlefield at the same time. A long coat rested over his shoulders, black with deep crimson lining and subtle silver threading worked into the seams, and his posture carried authority without needing to announce it. His hair was dark, streaked with iron-gray near the temples, and his face had the same clean severity Teresa carried, though age had sharpened his into something colder and more practiced.
Erica’s eyes flicked automatically above his head.
Lord Malrec Van Helsing
Where his level should have been, there was no number. Instead, a strange symbol hovered beside his name. A person’s head framed by two small blue flags, almost like some kind of friendly boss marker. Erica stared at it for half a second longer than she meant to, trying to decide if that was reassuring or somehow much worse.
His eyes settled on Erica immediately. Sharp. Measured. Teresa stepped back behind him, and the motion told Erica more than any title could have. Respect, not fear, but close enough that Erica sat up straighter before she even realized she was doing it. The movement pulled at the bandages wrapped tightly around her torso, and she felt the reminder of what had happened, not pain exactly, but pressure, like her body still hadn’t fully decided it was whole again.
“So you must be Erica,” Lord Malrec said, his voice calm and measured. “How are you feeling?”
Erica glanced down briefly at the clean layers of bandaging across her abdomen, faint traces of dried blood at the edges, then back up at him. “I’m… okay. Better than I should be, sir.” She added the last word more carefully this time.
He gave a small nod, accepting both the answer and the respect. “Better than you should be is not the same as well, but it will suffice for now.”
She let out a quiet breath. “Yeah… I’m getting that.”
“Teresa tells me you are a newly graduated cadet.”
Erica’s eyes flicked past him. Teresa stood just behind his shoulder, posture straight, expression controlled, but her eyes met Erica’s immediately and she gave the smallest nod, just enough to steady her. Encouraging. She lied for her. Damn.
“Yes, sir.”
“What family are you from?”
“An offshoot family, sir.”
He nodded once, as if that answered what he needed. “That would explain the unfamiliarity.” His gaze lowered briefly to the bandages at her midsection. “You suffered a severe wound. One that would have ended most.”
Erica gave a small, uneven shrug. “It tried.”
There was the faintest shift in his expression, not quite a smile, but something less rigid. “And yet you acted when my daughter could not reposition in time.”
Erica shook her head slightly. “I didn’t think about it. I just saw it going for her and… moved.”
“That is often when Hunters reveal their worth,” he said, without embellishment.
The room settled into a quieter space after that, and when he spoke again, his tone shifted just enough to carry weight without sharpness. “We also lost Doctor Gan.”
Erica’s expression tightened as the memory returned, clearer now that she was awake. “Yeah… I know.”
“He was working on the cure,” Lord Malrec said, his voice steady but lower now. “Not theory. Not speculation. Progress that was beginning to hold together.” He let that sit for a moment before continuing. “We recovered portions of his notes after the engagement. Enough to continue his direction, but not enough to replace what was lost. Time was set back, and in our position, time matters.”
Erica looked down briefly at her hands, then back up. “I’m sorry.”
He studied her for a second, then gave a small nod. “You acted to preserve life. That is not where blame belongs.”
Behind him, Teresa spoke, her voice controlled but tight. “He should not have been there. I told him the risk was escalating. We should have turned back.”
Lord Malrec did not turn immediately, but when he did, his expression did not harden. It settled into something firm, something that acknowledged what she was carrying without adding to it. “You made a judgment call under pressure,” he said. “It did not hold. That has already been addressed.”
Teresa’s jaw tightened slightly, but she nodded. “Yes.”
“He knew the risk,” Malrec continued. “So did you. The outcome is what it is. What matters now is what you do with it.”
The tension in the room shifted again, less sharp, but still present, still real. Erica could feel it even without fully understanding the history behind it.
He turned his attention back to Erica. “You acted when it mattered. That is admirable.”
Erica nodded, a little more steady this time. “Thank you, sir.”
He inclined his head once more, then stepped back. “Rest. You have done enough for now.”
He paused at the door, his hand resting briefly against it before he spoke again without turning. “And you saved my daughter. That is not overlooked. You may remain here, and from now on will be acknowledged as a pure descendant of the Van Helsing line.”
The words didn’t hit immediately. Erica blinked once, processing them a second too late, her expression shifting as the weight of what he had just said settled in. She hadn’t earned that. Not really. Not in the way it sounded. But arguing it here didn’t feel like an option, and something told her this wasn’t just a title someone casually handed out.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, her voice quieter now, more careful. Then, almost without thinking, she added, “And for the record… I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”
Her eyes moved past him as she said it, locking onto Teresa.
“I expect you would.”
There was no hesitation in his response.
Then Lord Malrec stepped out, and the door closed behind him with a quiet, solid finality that lingered in the room after he was gone. For a brief second, the silence held.
Then the system broke it.
───
LINEAGE UNLOCKED
True-Blooded Van Helsing
TITLE UNLOCKED
Descendant of Van Helsing
Effect:
+50% Damage dealt to vampires
───
The text hovered in her vision, bright and unmistakable, and Erica just stared at it for a moment, her mind struggling to catch up with how quickly everything had shifted. A few hours ago she had been trying not to die to things she couldn’t even scratch, and now the system was handing her something that felt… big. Bigger than a normal level-up. Something tied into the world itself, not just her stats.
“…okay,” she murmured under her breath.
Teresa moved.
She stepped forward after a moment, reaching back to turn the lock. The soft click echoed in the stillness, and she remained there with her back against the door, her head lowering slightly as her composure slipped just enough now that no one else was there to see it. The tension that had been holding her upright eased in small, quiet ways, in the way her shoulders dropped and her breathing changed, like she had been standing rigid through the entire conversation and was only now allowed to feel what came after it.
Erica watched her.
The room felt smaller now.
Quieter.
“Teresa…?”
Teresa didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her, really looked this time, her gaze moving over her face, her shoulders, the bandages wrapped tightly around her torso like she was confirming for herself that Erica was still there, still breathing.
Then she pushed off the door.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each step toward the bed felt heavier than it should have, like the distance between them carried more weight now than it ever had before. Erica didn’t move, didn’t speak again, just watched her approach, her heart starting to pick up in a way that had nothing to do with combat.
“You should have died,” Teresa said quietly.
Erica swallowed. “…yeah. I know.”
Teresa stopped just in front of her, close enough now that Erica could see the faint marks still left on her skin, the subtle tension in her jaw, the way her breathing hadn’t fully steadied yet.
“I told you I couldn't protect you both,” Teresa continued, her voice lower now. “Not from that.”
Erica gave a small, almost helpless smile. “You did.”
Teresa’s expression tightened slightly.
“No,” she said. “You protected me.”
That hung there between them for a second.
Then Teresa reached out.
Her hand came up slowly, brushing against Erica’s cheek, not rough, not careful either, just… certain. Her thumb traced lightly along her jaw like she was grounding herself in something real.
“You saved me,” she said softly. “You chose me.”
Erica’s breath caught just slightly.
“…yeah,” she said. “I guess I did. Like I said… I’d do it again.”
For a brief moment, nothing else existed.
Then the system tried to interrupt.
───
COMPANION AFFINITY GAINED
COMPANION AFFINITY MAXED
TERESA VAN HELSING — 100 / 100
TITLE GAINED:
Vampire Hunter’s Friend
+10% to all stats when Teresa Van Helsing is in your party
───
Erica didn’t even look at it.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t react.
Right now, she was being watched by a lioness.
Teresa studied her for one more second, her gaze moving over Erica’s face like she was committing it to memory, like she was still making sure she hadn’t imagined the moment out there in the desert. Whatever had been held behind her control, behind her duty, behind the expectations of her name and her father and everything that came with it, had shifted into something far more personal.
Something that wasn’t going to stay contained.
Then she leaned in.
The kiss wasn’t hesitant.
It wasn’t rushed either. It carried weight, intent, the kind of certainty that came from almost losing something and not being willing to pretend it didn’t matter anymore. Erica froze for half a second, the sudden closeness catching her off guard, then leaned into it just as naturally, her hand lifting instinctively to Teresa’s arm, fingers brushing against the leather and metal plating, feeling the tension beneath it.
Teresa stepped closer, closing the last bit of space between them, one hand bracing lightly against the bed beside Erica while the other came up to the back of her neck, holding her there, not forceful, but firm enough that it was clear she wasn’t pulling away first this time. There was heat in it now, something that had been building under everything else finally allowed to surface, and Erica felt it fully despite the bandages, despite the exhaustion, despite everything that should have dulled it.
Alive.
Too alive.
Teresa broke the kiss just slightly, her forehead resting against Erica’s, her breath steady but deeper now, like she was grounding herself in something real after everything that had just happened.
“…thank you,” she said quietly.
Not formal.
Not distant.
Just hers.
Erica let out a soft breath, her mind still catching up to the moment.
“…you’re welcome.”
Teresa’s lips found hers again, slower this time, less urgent but no less certain, the tension between them easing into something deeper, something neither of them was pretending to ignore anymore. Her hand lingered at the back of Erica’s neck, her thumb brushing lightly against her skin as the moment stretched, unhurried now, allowed to exist without interruption.
As Teresa’s hands began to drift lower, tracing carefully along Erica’s side, Erica flinched slightly when her fingers brushed too close to the bandaged wound. It wasn’t sharp pain, just enough pressure to remind her how close her or Teresa come to not being here at all.
Teresa pulled her hand back immediately.
Her gaze softened just slightly as she adjusted, her hand settling instead just above the hem of Erica’s shorts, resting there, warm and steady, and has she poked the barrier of her shorts, a notification popped up.
_________
NOTICE: CONFIDENTIAL MODE ACTIVATED
STREAM ENDED
_________
The warmth of her hand seeped through the fabric, grounding Erica in the moment, holding her there before the next breath could pull her away. She let her eyes close, just for a second, feeling the steady weight of Teresa’s palm against her hip, the way her fingers curled slightly, not gripping, just resting, as if she was still learning the shape of her through touch alone.
“I’m not going to break,” Erica said quietly, her voice carrying the faintest edge of a smile beneath the exhaustion.
Teresa’s thumb traced a slow, deliberate arc just above the waistband of her shorts. “No,” she agreed, her voice low, careful. “But you’re still healing. And all this is my fault. So just let me thank you."
It wasn’t a command. It was a quiet truth, spoken with the kind of weight that only came from someone who had nearly watched her die. Erica felt it settle in her chest, warm and uncomfortable, something between gratitude and the persistent ache of not knowing how to accept programed kindness.
She shifted slightly, turning her body toward Teresa on the narrow infirmary cot, the movement pulling at the bandages just enough to remind her of their presence. Her hand came up, brushing against Teresa’s wrist, tracing the line of her forearm where the dried blood still clung to the fabric of her sleeve.
“You’ve got my blood on you,” Erica murmured, her fingers stopping just above the stain.
Teresa didn’t look down. Her eyes stayed on Erica’s face, unreadable but soft around the edges, a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to see. “It’s not right to wash off yet.”
The words hung between them, heavy and unfinished. Erica’s hand slid up, fingers curling around the back of Teresa’s neck, pulling her down slowly, not with urgency but with a quiet need that had been building since the moment she had opened her eyes and seen the ceiling of the infirmary instead of the vast, empty dark.
Their lips met again, and this time it was different. Slower, yes, but also deeper in a way that had nothing to do with pressure. Teresa’s mouth opened against hers, breath warm and tasting faintly of salt and metal, and Erica let herself sink into it, letting her body lean forward, trusting Teresa to guide the angle, to support the weight she couldn’t yet carry alone.
Teresa’s hand slid from its place above Erica’s hip, moving lower, her fingers tracing the seam of her shorts with deliberate care. She paused at the button, her thumb pressing lightly against the metal, a question held in the stillness.
Erica answered by lifting her hips just enough to make space, her breath hitching as the button came undone, the sound of it clicking open loud in the quiet room. The zipper followed, slow and measured, metal teeth parting with a soft rasp that sent a shiver across her skin.
Teresa’s hand slipped inside, her palm sliding over the thin fabric beneath, finding the warmth of her through the cloth before moving lower. Her fingers brushed against the heat at the center of her, the pressure light, exploratory, a ghost of a touch that made Erica’s thighs press together instinctively.
“Easy,” Teresa murmured, her lips brushing against Erica’s jaw, her voice a low anchor in the rising tide of sensation. “I’ve got you.”
Erica let out a shaky breath, her hands moving to grip the edge of the cot, the leather of her vest creaking as she shifted. The wound pulled, another dull reminder, but it was distant now, buried under the current of Teresa’s fingers tracing her through the fabric, the slow, deliberate circles that made her forget the pain and remember only the wanting.
She felt Teresa’s hand move again, sliding the damp cloth aside, her fingers finding her bare, warm and slick. The first touch made her gasp, her back arching just enough to press into Teresa’s hand, seeking more, seeking deeper.
But Teresa didn’t rush. She held the pressure steady, her middle finger tracing a slow line through the wetness, gathering it, spreading it, building a rhythm that was patient and torturous in equal measure. Her thumb found the sensitive nub at the top, circling lightly, feather-soft, as her finger dipped lower, teasing the entrance.
Erica’s head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed, a soft sound escaping her lips that she couldn’t hold back. “Teresa—”
“Shh.” Teresa’s mouth pressed against her throat, kissing the pulse point there, tasting the salt of her skin. “Let me take care of you.”
Her finger slid inside, slow and full, the sensation drawing a long, trembling exhale from Erica’s chest. Teresa moved with exquisite control, curling upward, finding the spot that made Erica’s hips buck, her breath catching in a strangled moan.
“Yes,” Erica breathed, her voice breaking as Teresa’s thumb pressed harder, the rhythm steady, unrelenting, building a pressure that coiled low in her belly, threatening to snap.
Teresa worked her with quiet precision, her own breathing steady but deeper now, her forehead resting against Erica’s temple, their faces close, sharing the same heated air. She could feel Erica’s body responding, the way her inner muscles clenched around her finger, the way her thighs trembled with each stroke.
And then, without a word, Teresa pulled her hand free, the loss of contact making Erica gasp in protest, her eyes snapping open, confusion and need mixing in her gaze.
Teresa met her eyes, a flicker of something raw crossing her face before she moved, sliding down the cot, her hands guiding Erica’s legs apart, her lips pressing against the inside of her thigh, hot and damp through the fabric of her shorts.
Erica’s breath caught. She watched Teresa settle between her legs, the sight of her there, so controlled, so deliberate, sending a thrill through her that had nothing to do with physical touch and everything to do with the trust it implied.
“Wait,” Erica said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Teresa paused, her lips still against Erica’s skin, her eyes lifting to meet hers, patient and questioning.
Erica’s hand reached down, fingers threading through Teresa’s hair, loosening a few more strands from the tight pull she always wore. “Is this you?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it, carrying the weight of all the doubts she had been carrying since she first woke up in this world. She didn't want to give away her real concerns though so she mixed it with lies. “Or is this just some hunter tradition of having sex with someone who saved your life?” It wasn't the true question Erica wanted to ask, but the hurt and confusion still came through.
The silence stretched, delicate and fragile. Teresa’s expression didn’t harden, didn’t retreat. Instead, she turned her head, pressing a kiss to the inside of Erica’s palm, her lips lingering there for a long moment before she spoke.
“I have never had feelings like this for another I've just met,” she said, her voice quiet, honest in a way that made Erica’s chest ache. “I don’t know if that answer would change anything. But I know that when I nearly lost you, something in me broke that I didn’t know could break. And that feels real. That feels like mine. There is no tradition. This is all me."
Erica’s fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her gently upward until they were face to face again, their foreheads touching, breath mingling.
“Then... Please, continue,” Erica said, her voice thick. “I've never felt this way either.”
Teresa held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then lowered herself again, her hands sliding Erica’s shorts down her hips, her thighs, until they pooled around her ankles, leaving her bare and vulnerable beneath the dim light of the infirmary.
She spread Erica’s legs wider with careful hands, her thumbs pressing into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, steadying her, grounding her. Then she lowered her head, her breath warm against the slick heat of her, and pressed a kiss to the place where she was most open, most wanting.
Erica’s hips jerked, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as Teresa’s tongue found her, flat and warm at first, testing, tasting, then curling into a point to trace the length of her slit, slow and deliberate, savoring every shudder that passed through Erica’s body.
Her hands moved to grip Teresa’s hair, not pulling, just holding, anchoring herself as Teresa’s mouth worked her with a precision born of intimate knowledge. She licked and sucked, her tongue circling the sensitive bud, dipping lower to taste the wetness that pooled there, then back up to apply pressure exactly where Erica needed it most.
The sounds that filled the room were soft, wet, punctuated by Erica’s broken breaths and the occasional moan that she couldn’t hold back. Teresa’s fingers came up to join her mouth, sliding two inside her, curling as her tongue pressed against her clit, building the rhythm faster, deeper, until Erica’s whole body tensed, her back arching off the cot.
“Teresa—I’m—”
Teresa didn’t stop. She pressed harder, her tongue working in tight circles as her fingers drove into her, the combination of sensation overwhelming, pulling her higher, tighter, until the coil snapped and Erica came with a cry that was half relief, half surrender, her body shuddering through wave after wave as Teresa stayed with her, gentle and unwavering, licking her through the aftershocks until she was trembling and breathless.
When Teresa finally lifted her head, her lips were slick, her eyes dark and soft, and she crawled up Erica’s body to settle beside her, pulling her close, careful of the bandages, her hand resting over Erica’s heart.
Erica lay there, her breath slowly steadying, her hand finding Teresa’s and lacing their fingers together over her chest. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to.
But in the silence, she felt Teresa’s lips press against her shoulder, and she let herself believe, just for a moment, that Teresa was real.