“It’s mutual.” It felt like saying more would somehow trivialise the moment we’d had earlier. “What’s happening with Josie?”
If Lucian guessed I was changing the subject, he didn’t let on. “Claims she was threatened by Atlas to assist with the abduction, but I’m not buying it. I think money changed hands, and I think it was from Calin.”
“Agreed. She’s not welcome back on theGirl on Fire.”
Lucian grunted. “I say we drop her on the mainland with some cash and let her start over. I don’t think she’ll cause problems now that the real threats are neutralised. She was just a pawn in a game of bigger players.”
“I think that’s the best plan. As long as she knows she’s not to—” The beep of a waiting call interrupted. I glanced at the screen. Unknown number.
Those two words would forever fill me with dread. Farewelling Lucian with a promise we would talk more in the morning, I answered the other call.
“Hello?”
“Oh my God, Henry!” Cadence’s voice was shrill. “You’re okay!”
The urge to hang up almost overtook me, but her words gave me pause. “Did you have cause to believe I wouldn’t be?” Suspicion flitted in my stomach.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch for so long! I read that Atlas resigned, and I’d had a feeling he was planning something. I …” She broke off with a ragged sob.
“I’msosorry, Henry. I was jealous, and it was stupid and childish, but when Rumi told me about Irina’s family, about how she was supposed to go home to them and how Rumi had contacted them … I might have mentioned it to Atlas.”
I sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring, fingers clawing at my knee. “You put Atlas in touch with Irina’s family. The people I promised to keep her safe from. Did you know what he planned to do with that information?”
Cadence made a pitiful gurgling sound. “I didn’t know the details, but what I did know made me feel sick. I’ve been trying to get in touch to warn you, but … well, I guess I only have myself to blame that you refused to take my calls.”
My stomach dropped. “Well, both Ri and I are safe and well. And Atlas will not be hurting us—nor will Ri’s family.”
“You love her.”
I didn’t respond—I didn’t owe Cadence this part of me.
“I know you won’t believe me, Hen … but that makes me happy. You deserve to have love in your life. I hope Irina is capable of giving it where I wasn’t.”
“Thank you,” I muttered stiffly. “I’m going to go now, Cadence.”
“Bye, Henry.”
I hung up, exhaling shakily. My phone fell to the floor with a clatter when I pressed my hands between my knees to stop them trembling. The room swam, the air felt too thick to breathe. I dropped my head to my knees, dizziness overwhelming me.
All those calls I’d declined before we left Sydney. Cadence had been trying to warn me, and I’d refused to speak to her. I could have prevented all of this if I’d just swallowed my pride.
Everything that had happened in the last few days came crashing down on me, a vice slowly clamping around my ringing ears. This was the meltdown I’d been holding at bay, the overwhelm that I’d pushed aside with adrenaline. I’d thought that perhaps I’d managed to avoid it, but it had just been waiting for something to trigger it. Cadence was that trigger.
Frantic breaths whistled in and out of me, but my scrambled brain couldn’t work out how to slow my breathing, to let more air into my spasming lungs. My heart pulsed in my chest, my throat, my temple, like nails being driven directly into my body.
Two hands found my shoulders and squeezed.
“I’m here, Hubby. Let’s breathe together, okay?” Her voice was soft, reassuring. It felt like home. Her chest pressed against my back, her rhythmic inhale and exhale beside my ear a soothing song.
Slowly, the panic attack ebbed, leaving me limp, wrung out, quiet. Like the city after a storm. Washed clean but with the memory of chaos still fresh and raw.
“This bed is big enough for two,” she whispered against my face, helping me to stand, leading me back to the bed. We climbed in together—it was a tight squeeze, but she fitted her body against mine, two joining puzzle pieces, and we made it work.
“I’m sorry. I suppose you heard that conversation.” I pressed my nose to her hair and inhaled. Under the burning tang of antiseptic was her faint summery scent, grounding me.
“Only your half of it. Why are you apologising?” Her nose found its favourite spot in the dip of my clavicle.
“I made a mistake … you could have died.”
