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Tapping my fingers together, I almost smile at the memory from two weeks ago when Hades taught me the calming trick for my anxiety.
I’ve been sitting in the attic window seat for at least an hour now, hoping the proximity to the roof will allow me to calm my racing heart. So far, it’s not working.
On nights like this, the panic is almost impossible to ignore, and since we arrived at the guys’ house this morning, my mind has been spinning. I’m on the verge of a panic attack. Thoughts of how meeting my family and all the things that are going to change driving me into a spiral of terror.
Right when the panic really takes hold, there are footsteps to my right and then Hades is in front of me. His eyes are soft and sad as he takes in my curled-up position and the way I’m chewing on my cheeks. Brushing his hands through my hair, he lifts me up and tucks me into his chest.
“Shortcake, are you having a panic attack?” he asks quietly. He learned the signs when we were kids and I guess I haven’t changed much since then.
Sniffling, I nod my head. “I’m really close to a bad one and I don’t…I can’t… I need help.” I choked my words out on a sob as I break down in my Alpha’s lap.
“Oh, Honey. It’s okay, I’m right here. I knew this was going to get to you at some point. I’m just glad we’re home now that it has. I know so many things have changed in such a short time, and even though you’re happy to be free, you’ve had some massive emotional stressors. Add in to all of that you’re seeing your long-lost family tomorrow? Anybody would be panicking,” he whispers, still stroking through my hair.
“I just…” I clear my throat. “It’s all so goodand so happy. I don’t want to ever make you feel like I regret meeting you or learning what we have. One of my biggest fears going into tomorrow is breaking down and seeming ungrateful or unhappy. You know how many times I wished for a family when we were kids, and now that I have that, it’s daunting. What if they don’t like who I am now?” My words come out on a gasping breath, the terror taking over once again.
“Blake, look at me. Watch my fingers, and do what I do.” His voice is just shy of an Alpha bark.
Holding me tighter with one arm, he brings the other around in front of my face. Slowly, he taps his forefinger against his thumb three times, and then repeats it with the other three fingers. Repeating the odd actions one more time, just a little faster, he brings my hand up to replace his.
“Try it with both hands, Shortcake. If it doesn’t help, you can stop.”
I copy his actions three times before I realize my breathing is slowing. My racing heart calms the longer I do it, and after a dozen more finger taps, I feel more in control of myself.
Turning my head to look at D, my mouth parts in shock. “What was that, and why did it help?”
He chuckles quietly. “It’s nothing magical. When I was younger and first started going to therapy, I couldn’t regulate my own anxiety and they didn’t want to put me on medication right away. I was having anxiety attacks so often; my therapist showed me this and called it a Stim. She said it would help temporarily focus my mind on something else and give my brain a chance to reset the Amygdala. That’s the part of your brain that controls things like anxiety and fear.”
I nod, fascinated by the thought that something so simple could help stop a panic attack. Reaching up, I hug him tightly before kissing his prickly cheek.
“Thank you, D.”
Smiling gently, he kisses my nose. “Anything for you, Shortcake.”
Until now I’ve only needed to use the tapping once or twice when the world got too loud, but I need the calm now more than ever as Phil rips open the basement door. His face is set in a mean scowl before he sees me, and then he lights up with the same sadistic glee I’ve seen countless times before, usually right before a lot of pain.
The one thing that has changed? The wiry man that follows him into the room, his large nostrils flaring to catch my scent that I’m sure is acrid with fear.
Grinning lasciviously, Phil crouches down in front of the cage and rattles the bars, startling me enough that I back into the corner of the small cage.
“Well, well, well. Look who didn’t make it out after all,” he sneers at me. “You owe me, you dumb bitch. I didn’t bribe that stupid social worker to place you with us and keep you alive for seven miserable years just for you to act like an ungrateful cunt and RUN AWAY!” He slams his hand against the cage, and I roll my lips inwards to hold back the whimper that wants to escape.
The man in the back speaks up then, not even sparing me a glance as he glares at my ex foster father. “You’re lucky you found her when you did, or you’d have been dead weeks ago.” His voice is somehow both raspy and high pitched, the sound grating on my ears.
He smiles, but it’s not a friendly smile. No, this is something so cold it makes me shiver, his dead eyes raking over the Beta on the floor. “Instead, you’ll die today.”
The stranger raises a gun and shoots Phil directly in front of me.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ALPHA THERAPIST EXTRAORDINAIRE
Achilles
Blake’s been gone for two days and every single member of this pack is losing it except for me. I can’t afford to lose it when I’m the only one keeping their shit together right now. I don’t think a single one of us has slept in the forty-eight hours since Rook found Hades unconscious on the roof, alone.
We’re holed up at the Beaumonts with every single member of all four packs and Detective Benson working around the clock to try to locate our girl. The bond spiked with her fear yesterday but has been pretty silent since then, leading us to believe she might be unconscious as well.
Rook is in the backyard yelling into his phone, trying to get answers from the higher ups at the Designation Intelligence Agency. When we realized Blake was likely taken by the same people who took her before, he started trying to contact his uncle Roman with no luck. Every call, voicemail, and message has gone unread and unanswered.
