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As I sit on the end of my bed, my chin trembles, and much like when I was sitting on the couch, I feel a singular tear roll down my cheek. I quickly swipe it away, willing another one not to fall. If I let the damn break now, I’m not sure how to stop it. But what else am I supposed to do? I can’t get my body to do anything. I couldn’t even look them in the eye before I catatonically walked in here.
Has it all been a lie?
The question slams into the forefront of my brain before I can stop it.
My gut told me something from the moment I laid eyes on them. It told me I was safe, that I could trust them. I’ve never had that feeling before, such an instinctual draw towards someone. So, even though they were cloaked in danger, I went willingly. I leaned into my instincts headfirst and trusted them. Sure, there have been moments over the past few weeks where I’ve doubted and questioned their motives, especially Ronan’s. Lord knows I’ve argued with him. But I think that’s because, for the first time in my life, they pushed me, him the most. They’ve been challenging me at every turn. Showing me a world I never thought possible for a wallflower like myself.
I know there’s more to their life that they’re not telling me. They belong to the mafia, after all. No, not belong. They run the mafia. I’m not naive enough to know what that all entails. I know that there are secrets they have to keep, and I’ve been okay with that. I haven’t pushed. I haven’t prodded. I took their word that they were doing everything they could to keep me safe and would share things with me when they felt like I was ready to hear them, even if it meant uprooting my entire life. Because deep in my bones, I felt it… safe.
You know, in all of the dark romance novels you read, the ones where the woman gets taken? Where she argues and pushes back at her captors at every turn? Where, after fight after fight after fight, she realizes she loves and trusts him? Where enemies finally become lovers? That is not how I felt. I knew that they would alter the course of my life forever. Maybe that’s why I was so willing to get in the car that day.
But now, I can’t help but wonder if it’s all been a lie.
It can’t be. The things they’ve done to me. The things they’ve said. The looks on their faces. That can’t all have been a lie. Right?
There’s no way they knew about this. Right?
But Liam is their father. He is the one who told them to bring me here. So he had to have told them the plan. Right?!
I can’t make sense of any of it. My brain is going a mile a minute, and I can feel my breathing growing more rapid, the all too familiar feeling of a panic attack working its way through my body.
I’ve been sitting here, replaying every moment of the past few weeks, for what feels like hours, but I know it’s only been a minute or two.
The light sound of tapping on the door pulls me from my thoughts. I don’t know if I’m ready to face them, to hear the answer to the questions that are causing panic to tear through me. I press my hand to the center of my chest as I feel it tighten. After a few seconds of silence, the door slowly opens, and I see Mac. His face covered in remorse. And, with one look at that man’s sweet face, a sob slips past my lips. The damn breaks, and tears stream down my cheeks. Without hesitation, Mac steps into my room, closes the door, and kneels on the floor in front of me.
“Come here, Princess.” His strong arms pull me onto his lap as I sob. I sit, straddling him on the floor. He has one arm around my waist and the other holding the back of my head. I continue to cry into his shoulder when I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I sit up straight, tears still falling, gripping my throat, trying to get myself to breathe. It’s not working. My eyes widen as I try to suck in a full breath. I can’t. Everything feels like it’s crashing around me all at once. I can’t.
I can’t breathe.
I lock eyes with Mac, gasping for air. He must recognize what’s happening to me. Still holding me on his lap, he cups the side of my face with one hand and removes my hand from my throat with the other. “Princess, you need to breathe.”
I shake my head. My breathing is becoming more and more rapid as the panic continues to take over my body. Laying his hand over mine, he places them on the center of his chest.
“Princess…” I still don’t answer. I can’t do anything.
“Harper.” The use of my name brings my panicked eyes back to his.
“Breathe. Breathe with me.” He takes a deep breath, and I feel it against the palm of my hand. I repeat his motion and suck in a shaky breath. Mac breathes out slowly as his thumb ghosts over my cheekbone, trying to center me with every touch.
I exhale.
“Again.” I match my breath to his as he deeply inhales. With my eyes still locked on his, we exhale.
“That’s it, Princess. You’re doing so good. Keep going.”
Mac and I continue to breathe. I meet every rise and fall of my hand on his chest until I realize what felt like a vice around my throat has disappeared. I’m breathing normally.
I can breathe.
Mac senses it too. Only when relief washes over his face do I notice how panicked he was, but he didn’t show it. He kept his panic locked up because he knew that’s what I needed. He kept me safe.
Safe.
Instantly, every doubt I had racing through my mind just a few minutes ago is gone. You can’t fake this.
They didn’t know.
Mac releases my hand and cups the other side of my face. “Mo grá… you scared me.”
