Page 40 of The Hunter
I was back in that dark bedroom.
Victor’s weight pressing me down. His fingers digging into my throat. His voice, cruel and vicious, cutting through the silence.
My breath hitched, caught, stuttered. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream.
Panic surged like fire in my lungs, burning through every cell, every nerve ending. My vision blurred, blinding me to my surroundings. To the danger threatening me.
I clawed at the phantom hands I felt around my throat, but there was nothing there. Just the echo of a memory and the pounding of my heart threatening to break through my chest.
Then a voice reached through the haze.
Not cold. Not cruel.
Soft. Grounded. Real.
“You’re okay. You’re safe. Just breathe. Deep inhale. Then a slow exhale.”
I vehemently shook my head, wild and frantic as I fought to capture a breath that wouldn’t come. Like I was drowning on air.
A pair of hands grabbed mine.
The same hands from a few seconds ago.
“You can do it. Inhale with me. One, two, three.”
I gasped, ragged and shallow, but it was air.
“Good. Now exhale.”
As my breath left me, my vision cleared a fraction. The kitchen lights came back into focus. The aroma of chicken found its way toward me. Cato whined with worry from inches away.
And Henry continued to hold my hands, grounding me to this world. To him.
I was no longer standing. Instead, I was on the floor, my legs tucked beneath me, back pressed against the cabinets. Henry knelt in front of me, concern etched in every line of his face.
“Again. In through your nose,” he said gently. “Out through your mouth.”
I took another deep breath, held it, then pushed it out. With each one, the panic loosened its grip on me.
“Good. That’s really good.”
I continued drawing in deep breaths, slowly returning to normal.
After several minutes, he asked, “What happened? What set you off?”
“Nothing,” I answered quickly.
He didn’t move. “You sure? Because that’s not a typical response.”
I scrambled for something. Anything. I wasn’t about to tell him everything I’d been suffering for years because of Victor. Despite wanting to believe otherwise mere seconds ago, this man was no better than him. He was keeping me prisoner, too.
I needed to remember that.
“I get claustrophobic,” I said. “That’s all.”
“Ariana,” he started, my name low and careful on his tongue.
“I said I’m fine.” I looked away, masking any hint of weakness. “You win. Congratulations.”
