Ryker was still trembling.

Again and again, the tiny needles pricked his skin and dug into his nerves. His limbs felt numb, even though he had only been in the water for a short time. His breathing was still heavy and intermittent. His chest felt tight as Riona helped him into the house.

'Liam is fine,' he whispered to himself again.

Although the wild pounding in his heart and the adrenaline in his veins were slow to subside, the thought was like a huge boulder falling off his back.

It had been close. More than close. But it had turned out well in the end. That was all that mattered. Only now did his gaze linger a moment longer on Evelyn.

Ray watched as she hurried to free the little one from his soaked clothes and showered him with affection and love.

He heard her speak softly to Liam, expressing her concern and relief. Since she spoke softly and the noise was still in his ears, he could only understand her words in fragments. But that wasn't important. What was important was how she behaved. And again, he felt doubts creeping over him. More and more frequently, like shadows that inevitably clung to the light.

Riona supported Ryker until they were back at the cottage and up to his room on the first floor. "Get changed quickly. This house is wet enough as it is," she said with the humor that Ri obviously rarely put aside. Then she hurried up the stairs to the attic to tell her grandmother what had happened.

Ryker himself disappeared into his room. Far from everyone's eyes, only now did he groan as he slumped against the wall, took the weight off his leg, and inhaled the air with a hiss. He slowly removed his right hand from his chest and looked at his trembling palm. It was shaking and trembling... but not from the cold.

"Come on... come on..."

Ray gripped his own wrist, hoping to control the uncontrollable trembling. But no, his body wasn't obeying him. And wouldn't for a few more minutes, he knew. Not until the tablet took effect. Too much adrenaline, the fear for another person, paired with the overstraining of his body - a devastating mixture for him.

"Shit..."

Ray groaned and pressed his lips together into a thin, pale line. The seawater was still running down his skin in thin rivulets. It dripped from the clothes that clung to him, making his chilled body sting through the cold. He had to get out of these clothes quickly so his body wouldn't cool down any further.

However, in his current state, this simple task proved to be more difficult than expected. He was simply too unsteady on his feet to support himself on one leg alone. His right arm was also stiff, and he didn't want to obey him, except in an uncontrollable tremor at his fingertips. But he had no choice. It had to be done somehow.

His gaze briefly wandered around his room, looking for an option. The bed was out of the question because he didn't want to soak it completely. So, in the end, he stuck to the small stool made of faded wood that stood lonely and lost in the corner next to the chest of drawers. Well, better than nothing; maybe he could get out of his trousers. He struggled to push himself away from the wall and hobbled slowly towards the stool, onto which he lowered himself.

The wood groaned under his weight and for a moment he feared that the obviously ancient piece of furniture would collapse under him. But contrary to expectations, it held firm. Ryker's back ached as he bent over and undid the button on his trousers with his left hand. Struggling like a child, half contorting himself, he finally managed to pullpulled the sticky fabric off with great effort.

Using his teeth and jerky movements, he finally freed himself from the completely soaked jumper until he was only wearing the Adam costume in which he had been born.

He casually noticed a movement in the corner of his eye, only to realize after a quick sideways glance that it was his own reflection. In the already partially blinded mirror in the oval frame, the light-painted streaks of sunlight on his skin almost seemed to dance with the shades of black tattoo ink. The shades became lighter, darker, and night-black. They accompanied his movements. The tattoos hid scars that lay deeper - in more ways than one.

After a few minutes, the uncontrolled trembling of his body and hand finally subsided. Listening, he stuck his head out o the door and peered into the corridor before hobbling a few rooms away. His bare feet made a soft clapping sound with every step as he reached for one of the towels on the shelf. He dried himself in a makeshift fashion and ruffled his water-logged hair before tossing it into the laundry basket.

He liked the scent of the detergent. Fresh, flowery. He didn't know why he kept noticing it, and actually, it was ridiculous. But everything about this place felt strange and, in a strange way ... cozy. It made his heart beat more calmly. To pause and take a deeper breath sometimes. Like now. His fingers were still cold and immobile as he reached for one of the larger towels on the shelf to wrap it around his waist.

"Damn," he muttered before leaving the bathroom and trudging down the stairs.

"Sorry," he heaved, still shaking slightly, leaning against the wooden frame because he couldn't put any weight on his leg. "Didn't get into my clothes."

Eve had her back to him and was wrapping one of the thick woolen blankets around Liam. Only when he had finished speaking did she turn around. Her gaze fixed on him, then her eyes widened, and she ... stared.

She wasn't the first person to look at him like that. In the past, before his accident, such looks had only elicited a weary smile from him. As a trained Seal, he could hardly save himself from admirers, even if - unlike some others  his team - he rarely reciprocated. At some point, he hardly noticed. 

But this time it was different.