Oh God.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a panic attack. Years. I’d hoped that I was over them. I close my eyes, trying to keep my breathing steady, but I can’t stop my chest tightening painfully. Crap.
I really don’t know why people call it ‘anxiety’. It doesn’t feel like being anxious, it feels like I’m about to have a fucking stroke. My vision swims. All of the colours around me seem too bright. I rub my fingers together, but they’re so numb I can’t feel anything at all.
Forcing myself to ignore the rising sensations, I look around, scanning the crowds for the man in the hoodie. He’s gone. Oh, God. I spin, but I can’t see him anywhere. The shadows behind the trees seem unnaturally dark and deep.
Matt grabs my arm, and I flinch. “Shouldn’t we go talk to the press, then?” He asks loudly. “I want to get out of here as soon as possible.”
I don’t answer. Kenta frowns, looking at me closely. “Are you okay, Briar?”
“I—” I rub my face. A little boy I don’t recognise runs past, slamming into my hip. He smiles up at me apologetically, holding up a napkin and a sharpie. I can’t pick out what he’s saying from the noise around me. I’m gasping for air. I’m going to faint. Oh, God, I can’t fainthere, with all of the cameras and the press and other celebrities, I can’t. It’s too much. I can’t do it anymore. I can’tbreathe. Forcing back tears, I slip away from the kid and stagger through the crowd, making a beeline for the nearest bathroom.
Fifteen
Matt
?
“What the Hell is wrong with her?” I ask, staring after Briar as she shoves the kid away and storms towards the main building, heading for the gold bathroom sign.
Kenta bends and says a few calm words to the child, who looks like he’s about to start crying, then gently hands him off to the nearest server.
Anger rips through me, heating my veins. I hate all of this. I look around the whimsical, pretty party. The sky is darkening, and the band is starting to fire up. Everywhere around me, billionaires are getting drunk and dancing.
This isn’t what I wanted to do with my life. Never. The reason I joined the army was to protect innocents from people in power. People who hurt others, just because they can. Whether it’s my neighbour getting bullied to the point of breakdown by Briar, or a corrupt police force beating citizens for the fun of it, it all stems from the same place. Evil. It’sevil.And I’m sick of it. I don’t want to protect someone thoughtless and selfish and cruel.
I’ve been on the wrong end of that cruelty for far, far too long to sympathise.
Kenta straightens, and we head towards the bathroom to stand guard by the doors. “Is she… okay?” He asks, lowering his voice. “She’s behaving oddly.”
“No, she’s behaving completely normally. Every single magazine and tabloid and news outlet will tell you so.”
He shoots me a look. “She’s under a lot of stress.”
Typical Kenta. Always the diplomat. “Doyoureduce minimum wage workers to tears when you’re stressed?”
He presses his lips together unhappily. “Will Nin be okay?”
I sigh. “She’s dealt with worse in her life. She’s mostly just worried that Briar will tweet about her, or leave a bad review, and she’ll never work again.” Kenta’s jaw clenches. “We negotiated an open-ended contract,” I remind him. “Maybe we should just terminate.”
I expect him to protest, but he says nothing, watching the bathroom door with steel in his eyes. He’s just as pissed off as me.
Glen comes to join us from his perimeter check, and we all stand stupidly outside the bathrooms. Five minutes pass, then ten. A tipsy-looking woman in incredibly high heels tries to squeeze past us, and I politely inform her that the toilets are out of order.
She snorts. “I’m sure. What, is she doing lines in there, or something?”
She totters off, and Kenta checks his watch. “Someone should check on her. She’s been a while.”
“Maybe she’s taking mirror selfies,” I offer. “Or texting her girlfriends about the manicurist who dared to knock a lotion bottle over her twenty-grand designer bedsheets.”
Glen pushes himself off the wall. “I’ll check,” he mutters, heading inside the bathroom. My thoughts go back to Nin. Maybe I should get her a gift basket, or something. Asorry my awful boss made you crysympathy gift basket. I pull out my phone to make a note.
“CARTER,” Glen roars. My stomach drops. Kenta’s already pushing past me into the bathroom. When I step in behind him, I pull up short.
“Oh my fucking God.”
Briar is sprawled on the floor of a cubicle, her cheek against the tile. Her blonde hair is spilling over the dirty floor, and she’s gasping for breath, every exhale coming out as a moan. Her fingers are clawed and spasming, and there’s makeup running down her face. Glen’s kneeling by her side, a hand on her heaving back. He looks up at us. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
