ADIRA

The audacity of this man!

I mean, it’s not like I intentionally wanted to fall on him—though I might have entertained the thought once or twice. Or thrice. Sue me; the man is undeniably fine. If God had a favorite, it would be him.

Even seated, I could tell he was big and the way all the other men in the room seemed to defer to him suggested he was the boss. I could barely see him under the dim lights, but his eyes shone like beacons—blue enough to rival the clearest ocean. And let’s not forget that midnight black hair, currently styled into a man bun that screamed, “I’m too handsome to care!”

I was pretty sure the server hovering nearby was about to offer him her tits as a drink service, which is a new level of dedication I might consider for the next job at the company.

But I should have known that someone as jaw-droppingly beautiful as him would also have a sour personality, hence my current position sprawled on the floor like a common rat after my heels chose this very moment to betray me.

I’m so going to kill him; I thought as I glared up at his stunning face.

My anger faltered when I noticed the smile on his face.

Are those dimples?!

I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust.

Focus, Adira! I repeated over and over to myself.

Murder! Yes, murder—that’s what I was plotting in my head. Definitely not how the suit hugged his muscular body so perfectly.

Ugh, stop it. You’re meant to be angry.

Shaking myself out of my lust-induced daydream, I decided it was finally time to unleash my fury upon him.

“Who do you—”

What the hell?!

Suddenly, the whole club was filled with the sounds of rapid gun shots, screams replacing the sounds of laughter and music a few moments ago. Bullets flew everywhere, and I guess one of them landed beside me cause the glass table near me exploded into a thousand glittering shards, pulling me out of my shock and eliciting a scream from my lungs—a raw, primal sound that I barely recognized as mine.

No, no, no, not now!

I began to feel the familiar clawing sensation of a panic attack consuming me and I remembered why I avoided stressful situations. My chest tightened, my vision became hazy, and my mind spiraled with worst-case scenarios such as me dying gruesomely here. This is so not what I expected today.

Focus, Adira. What did Dr. Shane say to do in moments like these?

Trying to breathe in and out, I remembered the grounding techniques he taught during our numerous and mostly futile sessions together.

Well, I guess they aren’t all that futile now, are they? My overactive mind helpfully chimed in.

Ignoring my thoughts, I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself, through trembling lips, to whisper. “Okay, Adira. Let’s start with five things you can see. How hard can that be?”

I shouldn’t have said that. As my gaze darted frantically around the room, all I saw was blood, corpses, glass shards, which were currently digging into my hands, broken furniture and… Is that a head—a dismembered head?

Oh God.

I think I’ve seen enough, I thought as I squeezed my eyes shut, sucking in a shaky breath. “Feel… Four things you can feel, Adira,” I murmured, trying to steady myself.

The blood dripping from my hands. My body trembling uncontrollably. The asphyxiating tightness in my chest. The cold floor beneath my palms.

With my eyes still shut, I whispered, my voice breaking, “Three things you can hear.”

Screams. Gunfire. My fast-paced heartbeat.

It wasn’t working. The grounding technique wasn’t working.

My breaths quickened, became shallower. I could feel myself figuratively falling, but I carried on, determined to evade this panic attack cause this wasn’t the time— I needed to get out of here. Immediately.

“Two things you can smell,” I whispered to myself, barely able to focus on my surroundings.

Gunpowder. Blood—a lot of blood.

“One thing you can taste.”

 The dryness of my mouth.

The panic wasn’t subsiding. If anything, it was rising, suffocating me, pulling me under like an unrelenting tide. My chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and my vision… I think all I can see at this point are black dots. I need to get out of here, I thought desperately as I tried to crawl out from where I’d taken cover.

Pen.

The thought hit me like a sledgehammer. I hadn’t seen her since the shootout began. Images of her bloodied, lifeless body sprawled across the club floor invaded my mind. My breath hitched, the kleftiko I had eaten this afternoon about to make a reappearance again.

“No,” I choked out, clutching my knees and rocking back and forth as morbid thoughts of my cousin plagued me. She could be dead. She could already be gone. As I sat there on the floor, my mind spiraling further out of control, I saw him—the man that pushed me to the floor.

Through the haze, I watched his sharp eyes scan the disaster around us, his expression grim and focused as he barked out words to people around him. I couldn’t hear him though. The words were muffled, drowned out by the insistent pounding in my ears.

His gaze, filled with something fierce that managed to ground me for a strained heartbeat, locked with mine for a brief moment.

Ignoring my reaction to him, I shook my head as vigorously as I could to get myself together, but that too was a total fail. As the blackness crept in, my words slurred as I mumbled, “I’m still murdering you if I survive this.”

The last thing I remembered was the tormented look on his face before everything went dark.