But he only grabs a washrag and begins to bathe me, cleaning me just like a mother would her young. It soothes something inside me. It calms my nerves.
It’s only when I have to get out and get changed that the bad feeling is back again, and Georgiy offers me a pill.
“To help with the anxiety,” he tells me.
I don’t question him, just swallow it down.
Within twenty minutes, I’m feeling slightly better, the ache almost entirely gone. And now I can focus, trying like hell to figure out why this city is getting me all flustered.
It has to do with something I can’t remember. It must.
Ara. Henry. San Francisco.
Why can’t I fucking remember!?
When we meet Casey, Jax, and Kit back in the lobby, the three of them each wearing jackets, the bulge of guns obvious beneath the fabric, I’m swallowing back bile. Georgiy wanted me to stay back, but I refused.
I have my knife—a sharp one—hidden in my pocket. Georgiy has…well, who knows? I’m sure he’ll be fine and can take care of himself.
But even still, I worry about it, about whether we’ll get hurt.
No, I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about them. I don’t want any of them injured.
I don’t usually fret about this kind of thing, not to this degree, but it’s eating at me. I can feel it in my stomach, in my chest. It’s almost hard to breathe. My vision narrows, and I lean forward, trying to find the air.
“Blyat. Stop the car,” Georgiy barks, his hand landing on my back, moving in soothing circles, but it doesn’t help. Something is wrong. Something’s really fucking wrong.
“We can’t go there. We can’t,” I wheeze. “Turn around.”
Casey does neither. He just keeps driving. I don’t blame him. He has a job to do, and we are on a freeway with nowhere to pull over.
“He’s having a panic attack,” Kit says. “Let me help.”
He clambers over the front seat into the back and touches my knees gently, walking me through what I can hear, see, and feel. It’s only several minutes later that I come out of it. But I’m shaking and tears blur my vision.
“We can’t go there,” I whisper, and Georgiy holds me tightly.
“Why?”
“We just can’t. We justcan’t.”
Kit peers over at Jax and swallows. Casey says nothing, still driving toward the house Ellery identified. He’s not listening to me. No one is listening.
“Something bad is going to happen. I just know it. And I can’t live with myself if something bad happens to any of you.”
Kit rubs my knee and shakes his head. “We’re armed. We’ll be okay.”
“No, I don’t think you will be.”
Jax grumbles under his breath. “Do you know something we don’t?”
“What are you suggesting?” Georgiy says.
“Nothing, just…this is fucking ominous. We’re going to a place we know nothing about, and we don’t know what we’re walking into. And now Bane is saying that something bad’s gonna happen.”
Kit frowns, still rubbing my knee. “He’s just worried. He’s been through it.”
“I have. So much has gone wrong because of me. First, Tatum loses a finger, and then Luca and Viktor get burned. If anything happens to you and I didn’t warn you first, I don’t know if I could live with myself.”
