My vision narrowed, scent more potent with the second swipe. And just before everything went dark, I heard his voice. Not just his voice, but the roar of my name, fear and promise packed into just two syllables.
22
Lincoln
Nina killed it. I wasn’t surprised. I’d seen her brain work amazing strategies with much less to work with than BrightMark’s social presence. She even excelled with the on-the-spot questions. Confident but humble. I’d get her a list of dimple-free graphic designers by the end of the day.
Her shoulders loosened when she’d realized they were done with questions. Someone clapped on my back, and I got pulled into several conversations with acquaintances from one firm or other. It couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes, but when I returned my gaze to Nina, the viper was next to her. To anyone, it’d looked collegial, almost friendly—Natasha’s posture loose, her smirk small enough to pass as a smile. I knew it wasn’t. A coffee stain bloomed across Nina’s white blouse, and she jerked back, dragging shallow breaths that didn’t reach her lungs.
Why aren’t you using your inhaler, Nina?
Nina flinched, her shoulders jerking, breath starting to come in shallow bursts, her chest rising too fast.
“Move,” I barked, shoving past two people blocking the aisle. A chair I pushed screeched behind me, but I didn’t care who stared.
Nina’s whole torso shook now—not just shivering but rattling, small convulsions from the inside out. My pulse spiked, and I reached for the extra rescue inhaler in the inside pocket of my blazer. Every muscle in my body screamed to get to her faster. I shoved another person out of the way, ignoring everything but Nina’s worsening reactions.
Almost there. Just a few more feet.
“Nina!” I roared her name, fear and fury packed into it.
Nina lay crumpled on the floor, her blouse damp, her chest barely rising. As I kneeled next to her, all I heard was the whooshing of my own blood behind my ears—no side conversations, no hum of the projector.
I yanked the inhaler from my pocket and pressed it to her lips. “Come on, Nina,” I begged, thumb hitting the canister. The hiss sounded too small. I tilted her chin, trying again. “Breathe, babe. Please. Just breathe.”
Nothing. Last time, she’d reacted immediately. Now, the only response was the tiniest hitch in her chest. It felt more like she was slipping away rather than coming back to me.
Natasha stood frozen above us, hand half raised, wipe dangling from her fingers. I smelled it: overpowering disinfectant. Abrasive scents could trigger asthma attacks. My rage flared hot enough to burn through my fear. “Someone get her the hell back!” I snarled.
Carmen dropped to her knees beside me, wide eyes, lacking all the control and composure I’d known her for. “Lincoln?—”
“She’s not responding,” I bit out. My voice sounded foreign, too loud in my own ears. “Nine, one, one. Now.”
Carmen fumbled for her phone while I tried again, praying, pressing the inhaler once, twice, willing air back into her lungs.Why wasn’t it working?Last time, she’d been fully okay within minutes.
Not this time.
“Stay with me,” I muttered, dropping my forehead to hers for half a second. Her skin felt too clammy. Her lips too pale.
Somewhere behind me, someone said the paramedics were on their way. It barely registered. I couldn’t think beyond the next second—her next breath.
I gave her another puff, forced myself to count the seconds, tilting her head back to keep her airway open the way I’d watched a dozen times online. When she gave the smallest gasp, relief surged through me so hard I nearly collapsed.
“Good,” I whispered, my thumb trembling as I pressed the inhaler again. “That’s it. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”
The on-site response arrived then, kneeling beside us, taking over with quiet efficiency. The paramedics arrived shortly after. I stayed close enough to see her chest rising a little steadier, color creeping back into her face.
Only then did I look up. Natasha stood nearby, arms crossed tight, eyes defiant. My hands curled into fists. If I hadn’t been on the floor beside Nina, I might’ve done something I wouldn’t regret.
Instead, I stayed kneeling, one hand in Nina’s hair as the paramedics worked.
“Sir”—a paramedic put his hand on my shoulder—“we need you to step back so we can help her.”
I would have. I really would have gone against everything in me and complied, but Nina’s finger gave the gentlest twitch around my knees. No one would pull me away from her if she wanted me with her.
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m leaving her.” I shifted sideways but stayed close enough to keep my hand in her hair as they fitted her in a mask, then lifted her onto a stretcher.
I looked up at Carmen. Her face was pale but set, eyes already cutting to Natasha.
