Chapter 7
Trinity
I try to stay calm as Brody hauls me along the chaotic streets of Koreatown. Mothers and children with shiny backpacks wait at bus stops while creepers lean against corners and grandparents sit in folding chairs playing chess.
Brody grips my hand, towing me around the way a peeved-off parent pulls a toddler, with his jacket covering our shackled wrists. He yanks me one way and another, all while I trail behind in frozen, furious silence. I’m appalled by my own mental paralysis.
Instead of tapping into the knowledge that should accompany my field of study, I feel like a cosplaying kid in a Party City Batman getup. I worry that brain power alone won’t be enough to extract myself from this situation alive.
But after everything this man has done, after everything he’s exposedme to and saved me from, adrenaline and cortisol keep pumping through my blood. To quiet my racing heart and unraveling mind, I need to control my body’s oxygen and carbon dioxide levels. According to Professor Aldridge anyway.
Unfortunately, during her many lectures on adrenaline and other hormones, she never once covered how to regulateoneself under pressure likethis.When I’m a prisoner, and every moment of Brody’s captivity an invasion.
The warmth of his palm folded around mine, the heady scent of sweat and blood wafting off his skin… I yearn to feel more of him, and my body gravitates closer.
My mind revolts, becausewhat the hell am I thinking? He’s a criminal. Worse, he works for a rival off-shoot of my own family.
He snatched me off the street. Literally.
Hidden beneath his jacket sleeve, these handcuffs serve as more than just restraints. The silver steel cutting into my wrist serves as a brand, a constant reminder that this man thinks I’m his property. Or Declan’s. And until I escape, he’s right.
I’m in real trouble here.
By sheer force of will, I inhale and exhale steady breaths, in through my nose and out through my mouth. Like the asshole showed me.
The tactic works, easing my panic so I can stay calm and find out where we’re headed. That’s the most immediate way to ground myself. Figure out what’s happening right now, in this present moment.
I attempt to feign innocence. “Where are we going?”
Brody’s too focused on the street ahead to answer, moving us forward with purposeful strides.
“Hello?”
At an intersection, he yanks us left, not even acknowledging my prompt.
Irritation itches like hives under my collar. “Hey, you.Murderer.”
A muscle in his neck twitches, but he still refuses to spare me even an ounce of undivided attention.
Fine. I concede. Brodyhas obviously mastered the art of ignoring me.
To anyone who’s watching us, we must come across as a couple of young tourists.
After what I saw him do, Ishouldscream.
Except that will likely just get me shot.
He might kill me if I piss him off too much.
Then again…maybe not. He did defend me, after all, and not just from his own man’s attack. He also talked me through a panic attack he could have easily left me to suffer through. Sure, a calm captive probably beats a hyperventilating one, but he could’ve simply knocked me out.
So what’s the truth about Brody? Is he a monster or a maverick? A killer or a savior?
And how am I supposed to deal with either one?
That doesn’t matter now. Even if Brody’s not an immediate threat, those men—Russians, maybe?—are probably tracking us down.
My stomach knots when I think about that construction site. Whoever they were, I doubt they’ll take kindly to how Brody destroyed their advance team. They’ll come for revenge.
