Page 77 of Iron Heart

Then, the unmistakable blast of a gunshot.

Almost at once, the entire area around the house seems to explode with life. Men in leather vests I immediately recognize appear out of nowhere and swarm the place, guns up and ready to fire. There’s a louder explosion right above my head as a bullet hits the back door and splinters it. Shouts from the Lords of Carnage in a sort of code fly fast and furious. I tuck my head in toward my knees, squeeze my eyes shut, and focus on just breathing and willing my heart to not seize. I do my best to ignore the disgusting muck I’m lying in, the masses of cobwebs in the wooden planks above me. I try not to think about whether there are spiders, or rats, or worse under here with me — which is a little easier than it usually would be, considering I’m mostly just hoping not to get shot.

More shouts. More gunfire. I’m whimpering under the back steps, trembling from fear and pain, staring out from the dark, eyes bulging, scanning for any visual signs of what’s happening. By now the neighborhood should be swarming with cops, but from what I saw in my brief look out the windows before I jumped, this seems like an area where the sound of gunshots isn’t all that rare. I hear people yelling, and oh, God, I think just for a second I hear Dante’s voice calling my name, but I can’t be sure. And it might just be that I’m hoping for it so bad that I’m hearing things, hoping that maybe he’s here with the other Lords and that the reason has at least a little to do with me.

I don’t know how long it all lasts. I know it’s long enough that the muddy ground I’m lying on has soaked through my clothes, long enough I’ve gotten used to the musty odor under here and I can’t smell it any longer. Long enough that when the shooting finally stops, the sudden silence that replaces it seems to ring out louder than the bullets did.

I stare out from the darkness onto the patchy weeds of the backyard, my whole body tense. Something’s happened, Something’s over. But I have no idea who won. Or who is still alive. Or whether anyone’s coming for me. If I’m safe, or if I’m in even more danger than before.

If I had two good legs, I’d get up and run like hell. The urge to flee wells up inside me like a wave. Something brushes against my arm in the dark, and I stifle a scream, shuddering violently and pull my arm in close. I’m envisioning a rat scurrying through the muck down here, and then I freeze, wondering if sudden movements will aggravate it. I’m fighting a mounting sense of panic, and I know I have to be careful, that if I let it take control, I’ll do something stupid, I’ll be lost.

This space suddenly feels smaller, and darker, and wetter than before. I’m desperate to climb out but terrified at what might await me if I’m seen.

I’m stuck. Paralyzed.

My heart starts to pound a little harder in my chest. As I continue to scan the grass for any sign of movement, a sudden loud noise inside the house makes me jump, and I bump my head against a wooden beam. My heart does an erratic little series of skips in response. My breathing gets more labored as I start to cry quietly from pain and desperation. My sobs turn to hiccups, then to gasps. I start to get a little dizzy. Then I realize what’s happening.

No! No no no!

I can’t be having an attack!my brain cries out stupidly to my body.I don’t have my meds! I can’t do this! Not now!

I start to crumple. The edges of my vision grow spotty like television static snow. My hearing starts to tunnel. I’m not sure if I’m about to faint, or something worse. I think voices are coming toward me, but I don’t recognize any of them, don’t know if they’re friends or enemies. My body, my brain, starts to feel fuzzy, like I’m underwater. I press my hands to my chest, willing my heart to please slow down, to cooperate with me, tohelpme…

“Tori!”

Rough hands pull at me, gripping under my arms and sliding me out from the darkness and muck. I’m too debilitated to resist, too addled to realize at first that someone said my name.

“Tori!” the voice shouts again, louder and more urgent. I look toward it and try to focus, try to make absolutely sure that I’m not dreaming this.

But I’m not. It’s him.

Dante.

Relief — blessed relief and thankfulness make just the tiniest cut in the gray fog that’s closing over me.Dante,I want to say.You’re here. You came.But all that comes out are wheezes.

“Shit, Tori,” he rasps, alarm showing on his handsome features. “Are you having an attack?”

I try to shake my head no, which is ridiculous, because of course I am.

“Just…” I gasp. “It’s…”

He shushes me and gathers me up in his arms, holding me to him, rocking me against him. I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing, on his warmth, on how good it feels to be here right now. I try not to think about anything else, about anything bad. I just focus on him. On this. On feeling safe.It’s okay. Dante’s here. It’s okay.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I feel the constrictions in my chest start to ease up a little. It’s like the giant fist that has hold of my heart just loosened its grip, ever so slightly. The tunnel of snow at the edges of my vision begins to recede. I open my mouth and take a long, slow breath.

“Okay,” I sigh through my exhale. “That’s a little better.”

I feel the muscles in Dante’s arms untense a bit. “Thank fuck. You had me scared there for a minute.”

In spite of myself, I let out a small giggle. “I had you scared?”

“Hell yes, you did.”

I giggle again. “It’s weird to think of you scared.”

“Well,” he says huffily, but with a tinge of humor, “notthatscared.”

I look up into his face, really seeing him now for the first time. Tears spring to my eyes at how familiar he is. How well I know the scruff of his beard, and the black pools of his eyes. His beautiful lips, that are so much softer than you’d think they’d be. For a second, I just want to look at him, and do nothing else. But then I see the true concern in his eyes, and I know he’s still worried about me. So I do my best to snap myself out of it.

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