I lunge, screaming. In response, he pistol-whips me across the face so violently, I fall into the grass at the edge of the sidewalk.
With a stinging, bloody face and overwhelming dread in the pit of my stomach, I clamber to my feet and race after them. But they don’t stop. Instead, they drag my best friend to the van, toss her inside, and speed off.
Her wide, terrified eyes, glistening with tears, will haunt me for months. Years.
Tears rage down my cheeks. Because this isn’t justanightmare. This isthenightmare I’ve been having for the past decade.
Only later did I discover that the men who seized Ange had wantedme, not her. They’d hoped to gain leverage over my father. Angelica was just cannon fodder.
A devastating, evil error.
The men who snatched me today most likely know exactly who I am. And this time, I’m the one who will die.
My mind shuts down completely. Everything I learned from my degree flies out the window. I’m a trapped animal, threatened by a predator and reacting solely on survival instinct rather than logic.
My worst fears are coming true.
These men will do awful things to me.
I struggle to breathe in air, and my muscles tremble so much that they rattle my teeth.
This isn’t just a panic attack. This is a full-blown dissociative episode, an all-consuming flashback to the worst trauma of my life. I’ve read about these. Studied them for project reports.
Even as I recognize the signs, I’m powerless to stop the physical reality.
“Hey.” The voice of the handsome monster-man wavers, unsure. “Stop that.”
The gun disappears, and dim light from tinted windows momentarily blinds me.
I’m once again staring at my kidnapper. He holds my gaze, unblinking, while the edges of his head start to blur.
I shake enough to vibrate the entire van. As if the bad shocks needed any help.
“Listen up. I need you to concentrate on your breathing. Right now. Or you’ll pass out or worse, and you’re no good to me dead.”
Yeah, sure, let me get right on making my abduction easier for you. You’re not the one who?—
“Trinity.”
My name slices through the mind fog. I blink a few times, the hazy margins of my vision sharpening on that stupidly handsome face. Hazel eyes peer into mine, their golden honey color suffusing my chest with odd warmth.
“Take a slow, deep breath.” The man delivers his orders in a surprisingly gentle fashion. “Inhale through your nose for four counts.”
My body obeys, and cool, air-conditioned oxygen inflates my lungs.
Strong hands grip my shoulders, steadying my quaking limbs. “Hold for seven. Then exhale for eight.”
We repeat the process until my chest stops heaving and my tremors cease.
I train my eyes on his face the entire time. He never smiles, simply maintains that stoic, unreadable expression while mostly speaking in a commanding voice.
But his steady hazel gaze soothes my anxious mind.
As the current calms, my mind fixates on other things. The heavy black jacket on his shoulders—he must have swapped out the blazer for it once we started moving—and the navy Henley stretched over his broad chest.
The press of his strong fingers on my shoulders, his skin brushing the flesh that my tank top leaves bare as it rides up. I’m now regretting the outfit I wore to avoid overheating beneath my graduation gown. Somehow, he’s managed to mesmerize me with those full lips and that velvety baritone.
The man who snatched me—and possibly plans to murder me—just guided me through a panic attack.
