Gabriel knew what was going on—he was having a panicattack.
There was no denying it. The numbness, the nausea, the shortness of breath… all that was missing was the dizziness, but that would come soon enough. It always did. The ground would fall out from beneath his feet, and the space just behind his eyes would start to spin, and from there, his whole world would shift out of focus. He’d stumble and fall if he tried to walk, like a sailor recently returned to land, while the harsh feelings built up inside until they overtook him completely. All he could do now was hide and hope that Sir wasn’t interested infindinghim.
Out here, his options were limited, so Gabriel hunkered down behind the mailbox and tried to talk himself through his panic before the dizziness had a chance to strike. Back in The White Lotus, when his panic attacks had started, he’d been told by the doctor on staff that counting was an effective way to manage his terror, and he’d been taught an exercise to help. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, counting to five as his lungsfilled.
One. Two. Three.Four.Five.
The scent didn’t disappear, but it had to be in his head, didn’t it? Wood and leather and rot. There was only one place Gabriel had smelled it before, but it couldn’t be here, right now, could it? His brain was doing its best to sabotage him, and it was doing a wonderful jobofit.
This was why he wasn’t supposed to be on his own. Garrison had taught him that omegas were delicate creatures who needed guidance, and Gabriel had seen the truth of his words play out time and time again. Every panic attack, every jealous feeling of injustice, and every haywire emotional response proved that he wasn’t suited to life without a leader. It wasn’t wrong to have been born this way, but it was wrong to live life without an alpha for very long. The men and women who thought they could prove nature wrong were asking for trouble, and even if trouble didn’t find them right away, it would track them down eventually. No one was immune. But Gabriel? Garrison had called Gabriel a perfect omega, and it meant that he was more susceptible to his submissive instincts thananyoneelse.
Gabriel curled his numb fingers against his palm and let the air out of his lungs slowly, counting down from five. All he had to remember was that his fear was trying to get the best of him. The scent on the air was a figment of his imagination. It wasn’t real. Over the last few days he’d been pushed to his limits and forced to endure change after change—from Stonecrest, to Sterling’s penthouse, to Sir’s bungalow by the woods. It was natural that his body was shutting down. He wasn’t made for high-pressuresituations.
Fists balled, skin tingling, Gabriel flattened his fingers again and went back to counting. Five in, five out. He worked his toes, trying his best to drive sensation back into them. The dizziness was starting behind his eyes, as if his brain itself was spinning while the rest of the world stood still. More than anything, he wanted ittostop.
In five. The smell of wood and leather and rot wouldn’t leave himalone.
Out five. There were footsteps down theblock.
In five. Gabriel dared to open his eyes as the footsteps drew near, expecting to see Sir passhimby.
Out five. The face he saw was ripped straight from hisnightmares.
Lungs empty and body weak, all Gabriel could do was watch as the man without a name strolled by the mailbox and kept on walking. His hands were in the pockets of his jeans, and he wore a black hoodie that zipped up the front. As he passed, he looked down at Gabriel with a brow arched and his lips pulled back in a grin that exposed the tips of his too-perfectteeth.
All Gabriel could do wasstare.
Was it his mind? Was he hallucinating? Gabriel didn’t want to reach out and touch him in order to find out. Terror coiled tightly in his chest, making sure his lungs stayed empty. His body screamed for air, but he couldn’t breathe. It was like he’d been anchored to the bottom of the ocean and left todrown.
It’snotreal.
But the smell was, and so was the man’s hawk-like nose and the piercing way his blue eyes tore Gabrielapart.
It’snotreal.
But the man’s gait matched what Gabriel remembered, and the extra weight he carried fell exactly as Gabriel recalleditdid.
It’snotreal.
But the cadence of the man’s chuckle was impossible tomistake.
He passed the mailbox by, and as he stepped down from the curb to cross the street, he gave Gabriel one last, lingering look, then hitched the hood once slouched down his back over his head and kept walking. Gabriel watched him go, back pushed against the frigid metal siding of the mailbox, heart racing so fast he was sure it wouldexplode.
How was this real? If it was real, the man without a name should have taken him. There was no one stopping him. Gabriel was on his own, and he was defenseless. Gabriel knew that there was no way he’d be let off the hook—he’d escaped, he hadn’t been set free. So why wasn’t the man without a name taking back what he thoughtwashis?
Rust on the side of the mailbox caught the back of Gabriel’s shirt, and he squeezed his eyes closed as a fresh wave of nausea consumed him. The world spun faster than it had before, and counting from five wasn’t working. More than anything, he wished he could rip the useless part of himself out, if only so the spinningwouldstop.
“Gabriel!”
The sound of his name was distant, but it registered in Gabriel’s ears, and it dragged him down from the spinning heights he’dclimbedto.
“Gabriel!”
It was Sir, a foggy part of Gabriel’s brain realized. Gabriel opened his eyes as the footsteps approached. Each beat of his sole against the sidewalk slapped the pavement at a frantic pace—panic. Gabriel wasn’t the only one in the world who was alone andafraid.
“Gabriel!”
The voice was beside him now, and Gabriel looked up to find Sir standing next to him. His cheeks were red and his hair was messy, a combination of early morning and windswept. He wore a sweater, but the wind was whipping it, and his hair, in ways that made Gabriel feel cold just by lookingathim.
