Page 21 of Secrets in the Dark

I dragged my gaze to his.

"We're going to breathe together, okay? Four-count box breathing. I need you to inhale through your nose for four seconds." His hand found mine, pressing my palm against his chest so I could feel his steady heartbeat. "Follow my count. One, two, three, four."

I struggled to match his rhythm, my lungs still seized with panic.

"Now hold for four. One, two, three, four." His eyes never left mine, anchoring me in the present. "Exhale through your mouth, four counts. One, two, three, four."

We repeated the pattern—inhale, hold, exhale, hold—until my breathing steadied and the room stopped spinning. Only then did Roman speak again.

"Military technique," he explained, still holding my hand against his chest. "Works on the vagus nerve to interrupt the panic response."

"Useful skill for a casino dealer," I managed, voice raspy.

Something flickered in his expression—wariness, perhaps recognition that he'd revealed more than intended. "Picked it up during a deployment."

"You were military." It wasn't a question.

"Another lifetime." He deflected smoothly. "Can you stand?"

With his support, I rose on unsteady legs. He guided me to the small sofa in the main dressing area, positioning himself between me and the velvet box as if to shield me from its presence.

"I need to call security," I said.

"Wait." He glanced at the box again. "This isn't your first threat, is it?"

The directness of his question startled me. "What makes you think that?"

"Your reaction. Too specific for random harassment." His gaze was penetrating. "Someone's been targeting you. Following you."

I hesitated, caught between the need for secrecy and the overwhelming desire to confide in someone—anyone—about the terror I'd been living with.

"You can trust me," he said quietly.

Could I? Everything about Roman suggested hidden depths, concealed motives. Yet he'd found me in my moment of vulnerability and helped without question. His presence brought a strange security I hadn't felt since going into hiding.

Before I could decide how much to reveal, my dressing room door burst open. Riley Cho rushed in, face flushed with urgency.

"There you are! Val's looking everywhere—" They stopped abruptly, registering Roman's presence and my obvious distress. "What's happening here?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just feeling a little sick."

Riley's eyes narrowed suspiciously, darting between us. "Well, pull yourself together fast. Technical run starts in ten, and Val's already in a mood because the new lighting sequence isn't cooperating."

"I'll be right there."

As Riley departed, I turned back to Roman. "I should go."

He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. "We'll finish this conversation later."

"There's nothing to finish."

"Nova." His hand caught mine, warm and steady. "Whatever's happening, whoever sent that—" he gestured toward the velvet box, "—you don't have to face it alone."

The sincerity in his voice nearly broke my carefully maintained composure. How long had it been since I'd felt truly safe? Since I'd been able to trust another person with the weight of my fear?

"I'll be fine," I lied, pulling away. "It's just a sick joke."

His expression made it clear he didn't believe me, but he stepped back, allowing me space. "I'll be watching the rehearsal from the sound booth. If you need anything—"

---