Page 15 of Catalyst

“I’m okay.” The words came out too brittle, and I could tell by the way everyone’s eyes shifted toward me that no one believed them.

The combined weight of their gazes was too much for the fragile facade of “fine” I’d thrown together. An apple-sized lump formed in my throat, one I frantically tried to swallow. Somehow, that made it worse.

The lump sank lower, cutting off any chance I had of breathing normally as my eyes started to burn.

“Callie,” Kane’s gruff whisper reached me just as I let out the world’s softest, most embarrassing whimper.

This was something I was used to. I could handle it. For months, I’d been swallowing my grief so I wouldn’t burden my family more than I already did. But that’s the thing about grief—it doesn’t like being ignored. And apparently, it never goes away. Now, sitting between two people I was bothering and two of the most dangerous strangers I’d ever met, my grief made it painfully clear that I wasn’t managing it nearly as well as I thought I had been.

Pressure built in my chest, and each breath I tried to take felt more suffocating than the last. I couldn’t take it. The way they looked at me, the sound of their thoughts, the knowledge that I was about to make a fool of myself.

I needed air; I needed silence; I needed… I needed–

Kane’s hand tightened on my knee, and I lifted my gaze to meet his. The gesture was intended to be comforting. His thoughts told me as much. But it didn’t feel grounding or soothing. Instead, his touch reminded me that this was real.All of this was real. No matter how much I tried to fight this feeling or pretend everything was fine, it wasn’t. And somehow, thatthought was scarier than the memories of the showcase that still haunted me.

As fat, hot tears rolled down my cheeks, I realized exactly what I needed—I needed to get out of there.

The heavy wooden legs of my chair squealed against the marble tiles as I got up much faster than I had in months. Blood whooshed to my ears, drowning out any startled sounds or pleas for me to sit down.

Going on instinct alone, I bolted away from the table. I’d never been to the Anastasakis mansion until today, which meant I didn’t know where a single thing was. But the front door was hard to miss. It was large, black, and flanked by floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows on either side.

I fumbled with the door handle, my fingers trembling so badly that they felt useless.

The pressure in my chest grew to be unbearable. I wasn’t breathing—I was failing to breathe. It was like the oxygen was too heavy to be pulled into my lungs.

My vision blurred as my limbs grew weak and unsteady, like they’d turned to Jell-O. I could feel myself slipping, my body begging me to just stop, to breathe, to relax.

But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I had to get outside. I had to get my phone out of my car and call my mom. Somehow, I just knew—if I could hear her voice, she’d make this better. She’d make it all feel better even if nothing actually changed. That’s what she always did. I wasn’t sure why, but my brain clung to that one thought, that one desperate hope. All I had to do was talk to my mom, and I’d be fine.

But as I gave the door handle one last desperate tug, the world around me started to spin. Everything around me blurred into a mess of colors—blues, blacks, reds, and golds. None of it made any sense, and as a warm tingle invaded my cheeks, I realized just how weak my knees felt.

They buckled, leaving me to fall forward as my body won the self-imposed war it had started with my mind. All I could think about was how I was going to fall on my face, how I might hit my stomach and hurt the last piece of Sulien I had left. But those thoughts vanished just as quickly as they came, and just as the world around me threatened to go black, a familiar voice hit my ears.

“Woah, woah, it’s okay, Princess, I’ve gotcha.”

Strong arms wrapped around my waist, stopping me before I could do any damage to myself or my unborn child, and something about the safety of that let my body know I was finally okay to shut down.

Consciousness returned to me slowly, one sense at a time. The first was smell—the sharp, unmistakable scent of antiseptic hit me like a truck.

Next was sound. Gentle beeps hit my ears as I struggled to open my eyes, but they felt impossibly heavy, like they’d been glued shut. Still, I pushed through, and after a moment, my vision finally returned.

The fluorescent lights above me were nearly blinding, causing me to cover my eyes with both hands. But no sooner had I done so than an arm gently appeared on my chest, pulling my hands back down to my sides.

“Take it easy, Princess.”

Jace’s voice was low, almost raspy. It wasn’t a tone I was used to hearing from him; it was too serious, too raw.

I blinked slowly, letting my eyes adjust to the sterile brightness before turning toward him. Normally, Jace was a well-put-together man despite his infuriating love of sarcasm. His job revolved around appearances, after all. But right now, he looked exhausted.

Dark circles clung to his pistachio-green eyes, making them seem brighter in contrast. Normally, that might have been enough to make me swoon a little, but all I could focus on was the rare absence of his signature shit-eating grin. His brows were knit together in a look of concern so palpable I could almost feel it.

“Your eyes are pretty,” I murmured, hoping to break the tension.

Unfortunately, all that did was make me painfully aware of how dry my mouth was.

Jace blinked twice, staring at me with an expression that screamed,Is she serious? After a beat of silence, the corner of his lip twitched up—barely. He let out a short, disbelieving laugh as he shook his head.

“So, let me get this straight. You freak out, pass out, nearly hit the ground—and you would have if it weren’t for yours truly.” He gestured toward himself. “You scare the hell out of everyone, wake up in a hospital, and your first thought is about my eyes?”

---