Trusted Bond

and I
    think you‘re gonna fuckin‘ lose it.‖
    ―I never lose it.‖
    ―Until now.‖
    ―No. I‘ll be all right. Go check on Logan, make sure he‘s fine. There
    are a lot of people out there.‖
    He nodded, rising up out of the chair. He had to go look, check.
    Once I put the idea that Logan could be vulnerable in his head, he had to
    go see and make sure.
    Trusted Bond

    229

    My vision blurred, and a second later I felt an arm around my
    shoulders, a head leaning against me.
    ―I‘m fine,‖ I told Delphine.
    ―I don‘t think so.‖
    ―I am,‖ I said, putting my arm around her, pulling her close, kissing
    her temple before I got up. I felt like I was going to be sick. It was too
    much activity, too many people, too much noise, too much conversation,
    too much everything. I craved solitude. ―I promise.‖
    ―What can I get you?‖
    I had the urge to bolt out of there. It came on fast, the feeling that
    there was no air in the room. ―Nothing, I‘m fine,‖ I lied. ―Listen, I‘ll be
    right back, sweetheart,‖ I told her, trying so hard to smile.
    ―Okay,‖ I heard her say to my back as I left the room.
    I looked around but didn‘t see Logan anywhere. I walked through
    the suite, weaving through the crowd, smiling, moving faster and faster to
    the door. I couldn‘t breathe, and by the time I heard Crane call over to me,
    I was closing the door behind me. I heard Mikhail‘s voice above me on the
    stairs as I went down. I called up to him that I would be right back, just
    needed some air. He told me to wait, that he would come with me.
    When I was outside in the courtyard, I took a deep breath. I didn‘t
    feel like I was going to hyperventilate anymore. I closed my eyes a
    minute. The waves of panic were just washing over me. I was walking
    toward the center of town before I even realized I was moving. As I
    looked up and down the street, I swallowed hard so I wouldn‘t throw up.
    My breathing was shallow, and my hands were clammy as I pressed them
    together. The flight reflex was choking me. I was shaking with it. I had to
    keep moving away from the noise.
    I wanted to run. I ran every other day when I wasn‘t beaten and held
    down and put in dark places where I couldn‘t breathe. It was enough,
    though, to be outside. It was good just to breathe, to feel the breeze on my
    face, not to have the walls closing in on me.
    I walked fast, turning the corner at the end of the street and heading
    toward the park that I knew was there. I told myself I would stop and sit at
    the park. I had seen a table there, imagined how peaceful it would be to
    just sit and be alone. But when I got there, I just kept going, through the
    park to the center of town. My route was not a straight line; it went down
    alleys, behind buildings, through empty lots and across streets. And even
    230

    Mary Calmes

    though I was thirsty, I kept going. I felt better than I had all day. To be
    outside was bliss. I took more deep breaths and walked on.

    IT WAS dark outside, and the suite was empty when I got back, not a soul
    around. Everyone was probably out looking for me, and I was there. I
    would go look for them after my shower. I felt gritty, and I was covered in
    dust and sweat.
    I was exhausted afterward and went to the fully stocked kitchen and
    grabbed six bottles of water before staggering back to the bedroom. I had
    pulled on pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, and after guzzling down the
    fourth bottle, crawled into bed. I told myself I didn‘t need to go looking
    for anyone; they would find their way back eventually. I had to lie down.
    I was just about to close my eyes when I heard the door open and
    then my name called in the way he always did.
    ―Jin?‖
    ―In here,‖ I yelled back to Crane.
    He appeared in the doorway seconds later. His eyes locked on mine,
    inspecting me the same as always, taking inventory of my features to see if
    I was all right. There was no lying to my best friend; I had been under his
    scrutiny my whole life. Other panthers would worry when he looked at
    them like that; they would confuse the steady gaze for menace and the
    threat of violence. But I knew Crane Adams, and I had cataloged all his
    looks years ago. All I saw was uncertainty and worry.
    I smiled at him, making my voice soothing. ―I‘m not dead.‖
    ―I can see that,‖ he said, crossing the floor to the chair beside the
    bed.
    I watched him sit down, dragging the chair closer. ―I‘m sorry.‖
    He nodded and leaned