I feel a surge of relief as my eyes connect with Richie’s, a moment that feels surreal. I can hardly believe he’s actually standing in front of me; the whirlwind of joy, sorrow, and grief at his presence is almost too much to bear as I feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Richie’s eyes soften as he gazes at me, trying to decipher the chaos in my expression. "Rach," he says softly, reaching out to cup my face with his warm hands. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Are you hurt?" His voice is filled with concern, searching for any signs of bruise.
I nod, my heart racing as I plead, "Yes, please get me out of here." There’s a desperation in my voice that I can’t hide. Without hesitation, he pulls a sleek blade from his pocket, the metal glinting in the dim light, and begins
