“No!” Jack yelled, but it was too late.
The world whipped sideways as her feet left the ground. She soared through the air, thrown back hard enough to take flight. Then she landed hard enough that her vision sparked and her head snapped forward, then back.
Pain exploded up her spine as hot pressure seemed to collapse her larynx. Daisy sprawled across the floor. A death wheeze escaped as she gripped her throat, which was now a pinhole too small for her to suck in air.
Jack’s face flew into view. He pulled at her hands, but she fought him. “Look at me.”
A horrific peal of breath rasped through her windpipe. She was going to die.
The beastly man who clotheslined glared down at them, not an ounce of remorse in his cold, black eyes. “No one enters family wing,” he growled in a thick Russian accent. “Rules are rules.”
“Daisy, look at me,” Jack demanded, ignoring the Russian giant.
Panicked she would suffocate in this house of horrors, she clawed at her throat.
Her vision swam behind a wall of tears, strangled by an invisible hand that wouldn’t let go.
She gasped and shook her head. She needed air.
“Don’t panic,” Jack said, hoisting her off the floor and holding her upright.
She leaned into him, terrified of the man standing over them. Hulking. Scarred. Flat, dead eyes.
“Hey—hey, look at me.”
Her hands clawed at her throat, eyes wide, panic flashing so bright she could see little else. “I—” The words broke into a rasp. Air scraped painfully.
“Don’t talk.” His voice stayed low, steady, like a hand on the back of her neck. “Listen to me.”
She shook her head hard, frantic, trying to gulp a breath that wouldn’t come.
“No, don’t tilt your head back. Just…sit still. Calm.”
She was anything but calm.
A thin, ugly sound slipped from her throat—sharp, whistling.
His eyes flicked over her face and then away. Her stare rose as the man behind him stepped forward.
“I’ll call for a medic.”
“Give her space,” Jack said, an edge of warning in his voice.
“I am calling for help,” the Russian giant said, pulling out a phone.
Her gaze snapped to Jack’s, wild and terrified. His thumb pressed a small, grounding circle against her shoulder. “There you are. Nice and slow.”
She drew in another long breath. It filled her dry lungs like rain after a drought.
“Not too much. Small is best.”
She coughed. Her raw throat a fist of rusty razorblades. Tears spilled, furious and involuntary from her eyes.
He pulled her onto his lap and rubbed her back.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking.
He pulled her hand to his chest. “Like this.” She stared up at him as he breathed slowly in and out.
