I try to picture him. The way he presses his forehead to mine when I can’t breathe through a panic attack and says,I’ve got you baby. You’re not dying.
My lungs seize again, harder this time. I can’t stop it.
My mouth opens.
Water floods in.
It pours down my throat, tearing at my airway as I gag. My body arches against the hands forcing me down. My chest convulses, trying to pull in air, and only drags in more water instead.
No.
The baby.
Panic rips through me, sharper than the burning in my lungs. I try to clamp my mouth shut. I try to curl inward, as if I can shield something inside me from what I have already inhaled. I can’t think of anything except that my body is failing, and I am taking it down with me.
Fire explodes in my chest.
I swallow again and again, reflex after reflex betraying me. Water fills every space that should hold air. My vision flashes white, then shatters into dark spots that swarm and multiply.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think.
My limbs thrash once more, weak and useless. My fingers claw at nothing. The hands on me don’t move. My stomach twists violently. I think I might vomit underwater. I think I might choke on that too.
Please, not like this.
The fight drains out of my muscles without my permission. The burning dulls into something heavier, deeper. A crushing pressure wraps around my ribs and squeezes. It feels like my chest is folding in on itself.
My heartbeat staggers, then slams hard enough to hurt.
The world dims. The blue light above me blurs into a pale smear. Sound disappears completely, replaced by a low, distant ringing.
I am dying.
Blackness creeps in from the edges of my vision, slowly swallowing the light inch by inch. My thoughts begin to blink out. Panic. Pain. Fear. All of it fading under the weight of the dark.
Then even the fear slips.
I don’t feel the water anymore. I don’t feel anything. I just hear his voice in my head.
And I let it carry me into the dark.
Chapter 23
Seth
I'm already standing when the first man reaches for his gun.
I fire twice. One round hits his chest. The second punches through his skull. He drops before his weapon clears the holster.
Screaming erupts across the club. Dancers throw themselves to the floor. Customers overturn tables and crawl for cover. Velvet curtains tear loose as another man fires toward us, the rounds shattering glass along the wall.
Beau moves without hesitation. He fires once into a man’s shoulder. The guard staggers sideways, still trying to raise his weapon. Beau adjusts and fires again into his neck. The man collapses, his body folding inward as he hits the floor.
Another guard rushes from the edge of the stage, trying to circle behind us. Beau turns, kicks a barstool into the man’s knees, and fires at close range into his temple. The body slams backward, blood splattering across the wall.
A waitress screams and drops behind the bar, dragging herself along the floor to get out of the line of fire.
More movement in the back hallway.
