Page 55 of Seizing Control: Part One

“Promise?”

He answers my question with uncustomary vehemence, “Promise.”

“Please come back to me,” I repeat over and over to myself.

As I feel Slash approaching from behind, my heart is pulled in two directions. The pain in my chest is visceral, rending and tearing at the fabric of my soul, almost bringing me to my knees. I want to cut myself down the middle. Send one part with Zeke while the other half remains with Slash.

If only the solution to my heartbreak was that simple.

The big man circles an arm around my waist, then slings me over his shoulder. My view of Zeke is blocked as I’m turned upside down. Terror surges into my throat. Dread fills me. The tears I’ve been fighting to suppress stream down my cheeks when I lose my battle to keep my calm.

“No! No! Let me go with him. Please, Slash… I can’t… I won’t… he needs me.”

Slash’s footsteps are steady as he carries me deeper into the clubhouse without heeding my shrieks of objection. Irate, I kick my legs and try to push myself upright. My battle for freedom is easily subdued. I scream. I punch. I claw. Every available inch of Slash’s skin is attacked. He continues on, silently, unrepentantly, as equally determined as Zeke that I shouldn’t bear witness to the paddy wagons removing the two Miles men from the compound that is their home.

Our home.

The Shamrocks refuge from the corruption of society.

Not anymore—our anarchist hideaway has been dealt a deadly blow by my fickle father.

“Take her to the chapel,” Angelis directs his son.

Wordlessly, Slash changes course.

I continue to fight.

Screeching like a banshee.

Tearing at his cut.

My hearing fills with the thud of my racing heart, deafening me. I feel faint. Nauseous. Heartbroken. Driven mad by rage. Rendered motionless. Flooded with ineptitude. Even if I could make Slash let me go, I don’t know what I’d do to fix this mess.

I can’t stop the police from detaining Zeke and Hades.

I don’t know where my father escaped to—or if he did indeed manage to escape.

I’m unable to rewind time.

I’m worse than useless.

I’m a fucking liability.

When Slash lowers me from his shoulder, I continue to blindly fight to free myself from his embrace. The need to flee, to find a safe harbour away from the carnage that is my life, overwhelms me. Drowns me. Suffocates me. Burns through me. I scream at the unfairness of it all. Yell nonsense that hurts my ears. Kick Slash in the shins as he uses his brute strength to contain my rage.

I’m untethered.

Floating above myself.

Aware of how stupid I must appear.

Unable to stop myself from spiralling.

Then Slash wraps his thick fingers around my throat and squeezes tight.

I choke as my ability to breathe is restricted.

Ripped back into my body, consciousness restored as the disassociation caused by my panic attack recedes, I slump forward until my forehead hits Slash’s chest.

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