I hadn’t said anything because I didn’t want to talk about it, so they had no clue what they were walking into. If I thought for even a second it would be dangerous, I would say no, but it wasn’t. I was positive anyone who would have gone there would be long gone by now, seeing that I had escaped. But they did need to take fingerprints and such, so I didn’t argue even though going back there made me shake in terror.
Daniil knew this as he held me, walking out of the hospital. He murmured quietly to me, gently shushing me as he kept me close. I could hear the reporters as we went outside, all of them finally being shoved out the doors. That was where we had to go when we left. There were so many shouting and screaming Daniil’s and my name, I cringed, burrowing into him further.
“Don’t even fucking think about it,” Ember growled harshly.
A deep grunt followed.
“Get the hell back,” Roman shouted.
Apparently, there were so many reporters that they were making it through the bodyguards.
“Are you that damn stupid?” Brent hissed, somewhere in front of us.
Grigori grunted directly beside us, and then a man shouted in pain. Grigori muttered, “This is fucking—” He stopped, and another man shouted.
All the while, Daniil kept murmuring softly to me, keeping his head next to mine.
At least ten minutes passed, and my terror escalated with every shout until Daniil dipped and slid into the limo. Sitting me again on his lap, I stayed tucked against him, hearing his kids getting into the car. The door slammed shut.
Artur muttered, “Follow the truck driver.”
“Yes, sir,” a man stated, and I realized slowly that it was the driver.
I sucked in a breath of air, suffocating under the blanket, and started struggling to get it off my face. I couldn’t manage it, though, because my hands were wrapped.
Daniil yanked it back for me.
I choked, my eyes glancing all around the inside of the vehicle, past everyone’s faces watching me carefully, to the windows behind them. They were all fucking closed.
My breathing came in short pants. I shook my head, trying to move off Daniil’s lap to the door. “Window. Open the window.”
Daniil gripped me, pulling me back on him, talking quietly and soothingly, “We can’t. Not yet. Wait until we’re away from the reporters.”
I stilled, finally noticing what he was talking about. There were reporters damn near smashed up against the sides of the limo. I peered to every window, feeling my lungs constrict.
Ember moved quickly.
I flinched, pushing back into Daniil as she landed on her knees right in front of us.
She got right in my face, ignoring Daniil’s menacing growl, saying softly, “Elizabeth, count with me. Okay? Let’s look at the ceiling and count each and every square in it. Okay?”
My lungs hurt, and my head buzzed. I glanced at the ceiling, evaluating the puckered tiny squares that only expensive limos have. I wheezed in a breath, and nodded, wondering if this would help.
“Okay, let’s start with the one over there in the left corner.” She pointed up and back to my left, so I turned my head in that direction.
We counted together, her pointing to each square, methodically counting.
Amazingly…oddly…it helped.
But then, I couldn’t see as far as she was pointing, and I told her as much.
Daniil’s grip tightened on me, and he muttered, “I should have brought your glasses.”
I swallowed, looking out the window, only seeing passing scenery. I asked, “Can we open the window now?” Please!
He hesitated, muttering something about the point of an armored limo isn’t armored unless the windows are up, but he did it anyway. I glanced down at Ember where she watched me with a freaky look.
I whispered, “Thank you.”
