“Yes.”I didn’t hesitate.
He knocked twice.Atilla’s voice called, “Come in.”
The room looked the same as last night: the long table, the patches, the hard lines.Fewer men this time.Atilla sat at the head, General on his right, Spade on his left with a laptop open and a folder at hand.
Atilla’s gaze settled on me.“Sit.”
I took the chair next to Kane.He sat so close our knees touched, and neither of us moved away.
Spade slid the folder across the table.“We dug into your brother’s case.”
My stomach lurched.“Okay.”
General’s voice stayed steady.“Jason Fairmont ran product for a crew tied to a bigger player -- someone using men like Roth as middlemen.”
The word bigger chilled my blood.
“Cartel?”My voice barely registered.
“In that neighborhood.”Spade shifted in his seat.“Your brother got picked up with more than a minor charge.The DA leaned on him hard.He rolled to save his own skin.”
“You already discovered he turned on them.”My hands curled under the table.
General nodded.“Enough to reduce his time, not enough to burn the whole operation.Men like that don’t forgive betrayal.”
“And they can’t touch him in prison.”My mind snapped into place.“So they came after me.”
Atilla didn’t blink.“Yes.Although, technically, theycanget to him.Just not for payment.”
Shame and terror tangled in my chest.I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about what he meant by those words.“I brought this to your doorstep.”
“Atilla already had trouble circling town,” Spade said.“You didn’t invent it.You just made it visible.”
Visible.The word was meant to soothe but only sounded hollow.
Atilla leaned forward.“They already knew your name, your address.You changed where you sleep.”
“Under your roof,” I whispered.
Air thinned.Every patch on the wall looked like an edge that could slice me.My heart hammered.My fingers went numb.
Kane’s hand landed on my knee -- warm, heavy, real.
“Breathe.”His voice cut through the fog.
I tried.But my chest seized.
The chair scraped back.Kane wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me into the hallway before I could collapse.The cooler air hit me like a slap, and he led me toward the bathroom.
He left the door ajar.A sliver of light stayed, no trapped darkness.He braced his hand on the counter near my hip, turning me until I faced his chest instead of the world spinning.
“Look at me.”
I tried.My vision fluttered.
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing my bruise.Anchoring.“Panic attack.You’re not dying.Your lungs are just being assholes.”
A broken laugh got stuck in my throat.
