Collin tilts his head, thoughtful in that twisted way only he can manage. “No. But if you weren’t so fucking impulsive, I could’ve tested my razor-blade theory sooner.” There it is Collin’s bug. His itch to experiment. His fascination with pain.
My irritation spikes. “Collin, are you fucking crazy?”
He smirks. “Maybe. Who knows? But even I know you don’t do that in front of a girl you want to fuck.” Before I can lunge at him—
“Cyan, come quick!” Johnny’s voice slices through the alley.
Holstering my gun, I tear my gaze from Collin. “Find out who he is,” I bark, already moving. I jog toward the car. Johnny stands outside it. I noticed the smear of blood on Johnny’s shirt from when she clung to him. He points at the open door, eyes dark with concern. Inside, Aria looks like a ghost. Except for the tremors ravaging her body. I strip off my blood-smeared shoes; if I sit beside her like this, she’ll break apart. Sliding in next to her, I take her in. She’s gasping, small animal-like sounds tearing out of her throat. Fingers claw at her neck like she’s trying to rip something out. Her eyes are wide, unfocused, pupils blown.
“Cyan…I…I can’t… I can’t breathe.” My rage snarls up my spine like a living thing. I slam a lid on it. My madness doesn’t belong anywhere near her.
“You’re safe,” I murmur, forcing steel to soften. I shift slowly toward her; any sudden move will snap her mind in half. “Focus on my voice, Dove.”
She shakes her head hard, tears spilling, streaking down her face. “No, no, you don’t understand–he almost–” She doesn’t finish. She doesn’t have to. I know… I fucking know, and my hands twitch, aching to destroy the universe for letting it happen. I force them open. One finger at a time. Not now. Not in front of her.
“Aria,” I whisper, “you’re having a panic attack.”
Her breathing fractures too fast, shock detonating. Gently—so fucking gently, I pull her toward me. She tries to recoil, but I don’t let her. Not this time. “Lass, it’s okay. I’m here.” I keep my tone low and steady. “You’re alright. There’s no need to panic. Just breathe with me, love, slow, deep breaths.”
She’s shaking so badly it’s like her bones are vibrating. “Aria, rein it in,” I whisper. “Eyes on me.”
Her curls are plastered to her cheeks, damp with tears and sweat. I brush them back, tucking them behind her ear. “Breathe with me, Aria. In and out. I know you can do this.”
But nothing gets through. Her panic spikes, hitting a dangerous edge. Her breath collapses into short, broken gasps as her hand flies to her throat, her nails scratching. “Aria,” I catch her wrists before she tears skin. “Stop–”
She sobs, shaking. “I can’t do this! I can’t—” She’s slipping, her mind spiraling into that place where shock becomes a mental freefall. Where she becomes unreachable, something inside me breaks clean in half.
“Johnny. Get Collin. Now.”
Fuck, I can’t stand it. Watching her spiral like this, her pain slices through me like a blade to the gut. I can handle blowing a man’s brains out. I can handle beating one to a bloody pulp. Butthis?Guts me.
Collin arrives fast. One look at Aria, and his entire demeanor is clinical. He’s eerily calm as he slips a small syringe from his jacket. “No!” Aria sobs, weakly taking hold of my shirt. “Please! I can handle it! I–I just need to breathe!”
“Collin.” My teeth grind, fury and helplessness scraping together. “There has to be another way.”
I look at Aria—my Dove, her chest heaving, eyes frantic and glazed. One hand raked at her throat. “No…” she gasps, trembling. “Cyan, please don’t…” Her hand finds my shirt, gripping like I’m the only thing anchoring her to the world and, fuck, she’s right. I’m the only thing keeping her tethered. I pull her closer, turning her so her back shields her from Collin. She collapses against me, trembling violently.
“We’re going to help you.” My lips brush her temple. “I swear. You’re safe.”
She sags, exhausted, no longer resisting because she trusts me. A trust I’m about to break. Fuck. I give Collin a tiny nod; he moves silently. The needle pierces her arm before she registers it.
Her head jerks up. Her eyes fly wide, betrayal flooding them so fast it nearly kills me.
“Cyan…” Her lips form my name. For a split second, her voice isn’t hers—it’s Ma’s. Before her doe-brown eyes remind me who she is.
The drug hits quickly; her breathing slows, and her lashes flutter. She tries, mercy me; she tries; to fight the darkness closing in. Her gaze finds mine one last time and I see the silent question, the accusation and plea. I hold her tighter as her body softens and goes completely still. My jaw locks as I inhale. I just drugged the woman I swore to protect, for the first time tonight…I don’t know if I made the right fucking choice.
She’ll hate me even more for this. I’ll take that hate. I’ll take anything—just so she sane.
Twenty-One
“Touch what’s mine, and I won’t just take your life. I’ll take your legacy.”—Cyan MacBrady.
“You know, most panic attacks pass on their own if left alone.”
“I know, Col, but she wasn’t coming back. You think I don’t know panic attacks burn out on their own? This wasn’t that. Her mind was locked somewhere I couldn’t reach falling into a mental freefall. If she hits the bottom, I might not get her back.”
I drag a hand over my face, then through her hair. Soft, calming, and tormenting at the same time. She lies against me, her breathing controlled now, the picture of peace after a storm that almost swallowed her whole. I failed to be calculated, letting emotion override logic.
