Page 52 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
Fuck.
She watched me kill tonight. Torture tonight.
She was terrified, and watching her fall apart in front of me gutted me in ways I never thought possible.
I needed to fix this. I needed to bring her back.
“Autumn,” I said, crouching down before her. “Listen to me. You’re safe now.”
She shook her head, her chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.
I didn’t touch her yet, remembering that I was the cause of this breakdown. “Focus on my voice. You’re having a panic attack. It feels like you’re dying, but you’re not.”
She closed her eyes, her mouth panting for air.
“I need you to breathe with me,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”
I’d seen panic attacks before—young recruits after their first kill, women after learning their husbands had died in war. But those people weren’t Autumn. Those people weren’t mine to protect.
She tried to follow my instructions, but her breath hitched, caught in her throat.
“I can’t,” she gasped.
I dropped lower so I could meet her gaze. “Autumn. Look at me.”
She didn’t. Or maybe couldn’t. She was spiraling.
And I was helpless to stop it.
Until instinct kicked in.
I moved cautiously beside her. “May I touch you?”
She hesitated for a while, but then nodded.
I scooped her up and carried her to the couch, sitting down with her cradled against my chest.
I didn’t know how to fix this. I didn’t know how to guide someone through a panic attack. But for some reason, everything I did with her felt… natural. It was as if my body already knew what she needed before my brain caught up.
So I held her. Pressed her face to my chest. Ran my hand gently up and down her back. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “You’re safe now. No one’s gonna touch you.”
She didn’t speak, but she didn’t fight me either.
She curled closer.
I took her hand, placing it against my chest. “Feel my heartbeat. Feel me breathe. Match it.”
Her fingers pressed against my shirt, right over my heart. It was beating faster than usual, fueled by the fear of losing her.
“In,” I instructed, taking a deep breath. “Out.”
She tried again, her breath still ragged but following mine.
“Good,” I encouraged. “Again.”
With each breath, her body relaxed incrementally. Her fingers softened against my chest. Her shoulders lowered from where they’d been hunched around her ears.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “You’re doing great.”
