Page 59 of Iron Heart

His eyes meet mine briefly as if seeking refuge before darting away.He’s not one for the limelight, but isn’t that a true hero?His actions weren’t motivated by a desire for recognition.He acted because it was the right thing to do.

“Put your glasses on,” he directs, putting me first and trying to shield me from any unwanted attention.

Before we can slip away, a police officer approaches us, his eyes focused on Kingsley.“Sir, we’ll need to take your statement for the incident report.”

As the police officer moves closer, intent on pulling Kingsley away for a debrief, Kingsley’s eyes lock onto mine.

“I’m not leaving you again,” he declares firmly, his gaze never wavering from mine.“She’s coming with me.”

The officer’s eyes widen briefly before he gives a resigned nod.It’s as if he grasps that whatever just happened between us has bound us together, a connection too potent for protocol or procedures to sever.

But he doesn’t realize that we were bound long before this moment.

* * *

It’s way past midnight when we finally exit the police station and head home.I find myself nestled in Kingsley’s bed, his arm resting reassuringly over me as he drifts to sleep.

I listened intently as Kingsley gave his precise, methodical statement.By the end of it, the officers, who had pulled up his file, were practically huddled around him like groupies at a rock concert.

They’d already asked me for autographs for their wives—but Kingsley is the one who truly captivated their attention.It’s his no-nonsense demeanor that people can’t help but respect.

His kind heart, once you peel back the layers, and his belief in me draws me toward him in ways I hadn’t anticipated.He might be a fortress of steel on the outside, but inside, he possesses an endless capacity for kindness and protectiveness.And it’s disarming, unsettling in the best possible way.

It’s not what I expected from him—not by a long shot—and it’s thrown me into an emotional tailspin.One where I’m free-falling without a parachute, and I am pretty certain he may feel the same by every look, caress, and cuddle.

My eyes close, and I’m on the cusp of sleep when the haunting image of the man with the knife flashes before me.It triggers a torrent of memories, specifically of the knife my abductor once held.My heart skyrockets, pounding in my chest like a trapped bird.I try to shove the memory aside, but it digs in, worsening by the second.

A cold sweat breaks out across my skin, and panic constricts my throat.Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, I dart from Kingsley’s room to my own.Frantically, I dig through my bag for the small vial of Valium I packed, hoping to douse the rising panic.

Dr.Deirdra’s words echo in my mind—panic surfing, she calls it.Riding out the wave of anxiety through focused breathing.But my breathing just makes me feel like I’m hyperventilating.

“Dammit!”I shout, frustrated with myself, and bolt into the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

I swipe the lid off, and it bobbles on the cold tiles.I’m clutching that tiny pill in my hand, teetering on the edge of taking it, just to make this unrelenting fear subside, when I hear a pounding on the door.

“Victoria, are you in there?”Kingsley’s voice penetrates the fog of my panic.

I can’t respond.My throat feels like it’s lined with sandpaper.

“Victoria,” he calls again, more urgently this time.And before I can say anything, before I can pop that pill into my mouth, the door shatters inward.

Kingsley bursts in, his face lined with worry.

My tears start to flow as I curl up, cradling my legs to my chest.He sees the pill in my hand, and his eyes soften.Without a word, he lifts me from the cold tiles and pulls me tightly against his chest.

A strange calm starts to wash over me when I'm enveloped in his arms.“Shh… I’m here, baby,” he whispers gently into my ear.“I need you to breathe with me.In for five seconds and then out.”

I try to follow, but my breath is still coming out in choppy gasps.He stops, sets me down gently, and looks into my eyes.“You’re having a panic attack.Follow my breathing, exactly.We’ll get through this together.You can do this.”

“I can’t,” I splutter out.

“In for one… two… three… four… five,” he counts, his eyes never leaving mine, “… and then out…”

I try to mimic his breathing.

“You’re safe,” he emphasizes, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as he exhales slowly.I find myself syncing my breathing with his, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest helping to steady my own erratic breaths.

After a few minutes, the intense fear starts to ebb away, and I feel an urge to open up to Kingsley about what just happened to me.“Seeing that guy with a knife today brought back memories of when I was held captive.”

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