The slow, deliberate sound of his belt buckle sliding free.
Rage detonates inside me, white-hot and blinding.
The two emotions collide—horror and fury—tearing at each other. Empathy and vengeance. Two tidal waves meeting head-on in my chest. The pressure builds behind my eyes until it physically hurts to remain upright.
“Brylee? Are you there?”
Ted’s voice cuts through the noise.
“I’m here,” I manage, though my voice trembles.
“There’s more.” Urgency sharpens his tone. “The council’s talking about reactivating Alpha Team X. Full deployment. All hands.”
The floor drops out from under me.
“No.” The word leaves me as breath, not sound. “No. Ridge was shot less than a week ago. He’s not— Hecan’t.”
“Alphas heal fast. You know that.” His tone is gentle. Practical. Unforgiving. “And Alpha Team X is the best unit we have. They’re the only ones who can handle this.”
The corridor begins to close in.
The once-wide hall feels narrow.
The lights too bright.
The air too thick. I can’t get enough of it.
My heart slams wildly against my ribs, a trapped bird hurling itself at a cage. Dizziness washes over me in waves. Cold sweat prickles along my spine, and the edges of my vision darken.
I can’t hear Teddie anymore.
Only the roaring in my ears.
I hang up.
The phone slips from my numb fingers and clatters against the polished floor, skidding beneath a row of plastic chairs. The sound feels distant, disconnected from my body.
I’m already moving.
Down the hall. Around the corner.
My body remembers what my mind can’t process.
Small space.
No windows.
The narrow supply closet door appears like a lifeline. I wrench it open and slip inside, shutting the world out with a soft, final click.
Darkness wraps around me immediately. Close. Contained.
Safe.
The air is warmer here, thick with the scent of clean linen and industrial detergent. Shelves line the walls, stacked with folded blankets and boxes of gloves. I press my back against cool metal and slide down until I’m sitting on the tile, knees pulled tight to my chest.
Not blood.
Not smoke.
