I drop to my knees next to her, sliding my fingers over her throat to find her pulse. It’s thrumming unhealthily fast.
“Glen, get the door. Briar, look at me.” She focuses on me. There’s rawterrorin her eyes, and for a moment, it sends me reeling back to another place.
A knife catching the light. Glen’s horrified eyes staring at me.
I shake off the feeling. “Speak.”
She closes her eyes again, curling into herself, panting.
“She has allergies, right?” I ask Kenta, who’s picked up her bag and started rooting through it. “Could it be anaphylaxis?”
“To mould. It shouldn’t be this severe, she’s not prescribed an epi pen.”
“Overdose?” I squeeze her shoulder. “Briar. Open your eyes. Did you take something?”
She shakes her head, still gasping.
“Do you hurt anywhere? Are you hurting, princess?”
Another head shake.I’m starting to panic.
“Did she drink anything?” Kenta asks, still rummaging in her clutch. “Could she have been drugged?”
“A glass of champagne. I didn’t watch it getting poured, she picked it up off a buffet table. I—”
“Wait,” he interrupts me, pulling a tiny pink pill box out of her purse. He flips the lid, examining the contents. “Benzo.”
“Are you having apanic attack?” I ask her, incredulous.
I’ve seen a lot of clients have panic attacks; generally, when someone is in enough danger to require a 24/7 security team, their lives are pretty anxiety-inducing. It would normally be my first guess in a situation like this. But Briar has done absolutely nothing to suggest she’s even capable of feelingnervous,let alone panicky.
She nods jerkily.
“Okay. Okay. Kenta, get her some water. Briar, you’re hyperventilating. Slow down your breathing.”
She rolls her eyes, likeyeah, duh.
“Sit.” I help her sit up, propping her up with my shoulder, then take her sweaty hand and put it on my chest, breathing exaggeratedly. “Inhale. Hold it. Then exhale. That’s it. Good girl.”
“I’m…” she chokes, twisting her fingers weakly in the front of my shirt, “Not… a dog.”
“It would probably be easier for you to breathe if you stopped talking back,” I advise. “Come on. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale.”
She glares at me, but tries to do as I say. I breathe with her for the next couple of minutes, and her breaths slowly get smoother and deeper. Eventually, she pushes her hand off me, sitting upright.
“There we are.” I stroke back some hair sticking to her sweaty forehead. “There you are. Can you talk, princess?”
“Yeah,” she rasps, taking the water bottle Kenta offers her. “Thanks.” She tries to open it, but her hands are still shaking. I take it off her and remove the cap.
“This happen a lot?”
“Since I was sixteen. N-not much, anymore.” She closes her eyes. “God. I’m so dizzy.”
My stomach twists. “Let’s get you your meds.” I reach for her pill box, shaking out a tablet, but she shakes her head. “You don’t want it?”
“Makes me feel gross.” She wipes her eyes, smudging mascara onto her cheeks. “S’only for emergencies.”
“You collapsed in a public bathroom. What exactly do you think qualifies as an emergency?”
