Page 55 of Retaliation

With a simple affirmation, Gunnar ended the call, leaving Phillip with a fleeting sense of relief.

Mounting his bike, he revved the engine and set off into the night, the roar of the motorcycle drowning out the tumult of his thoughts. He needed clarity, stability, and someone who could temper his rage with reason.

Gunnar, he knew, was the walking personification of composure, and he needed his friend now more than ever.

EIGHTEEN

In the dead of night, Poison’s fist pounded against Nina’s front door, the echoes reverberating through the silent neighborhood like a desperate plea. She knew it was very late, even intrusive, to bother Nina at such an hour, but the ache in her soul drove her to seek comfort in the only home she knew.

After an agonizing moment, a faint glow seeped through the curtains, and someone moved inside. Poison waited, her heart pounding and the voices getting louder with every heartbeat. Then, as if responding to her silent plea, the door swung open, revealing Nina’s sleep-dazed form framed in the doorway. Her nightgown hung loosely around her, her eyes heavy with sleep.

Without a word, Nina’s arms wrapped around her, drawing her into a tight hug. Poison felt a rush of relief flood through her, mingled with guilt for waking Nina from her sleep. But when Nina caught sight of her tear-streaked face, all traces of sleep vanished, replaced by a fierce worry.

They stepped into Nina’s home, and Poison caught a glimpse of Nick hovering protectively behind her. With a soft click, the door closed behind them.

Nina led her to the lounge, their steps echoing through the dark house as she guided her to the couch and helped her sit between all the scatter cushions.

Nina settled beside her, their bodies pressed close together as she hugged her to her side.

As Poison leaned into Nina’s comforting, a wave of nausea surged through her, twisting her stomach into agonizing knots. She struggled to maintain her composure, but beneath the surface, a storm of panic raged, threatening to engulf her in its relentless grip—the voices drowning her in a pit so deep, so dark she saw no end to it.

With each passing moment, the suffocating weight pressing down on her chest grew more unbearable, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as she fought to contain the rising tide of panic. The warmth of Nina’s embrace offered little comfort against the churning storm brewing within her, each heartbeat echoing like a thunderous war drum in her ears.

A sharp pang of pain shot through Poison’s gut, sending her reeling as she clutched her stomach in agony. Without a word, she tore herself from Nina’s arms and staggered toward the bathroom, her footsteps faltering with each step.

As she reached the bathroom, she collapsed to her knees before the toilet bowl, her body wracked with violent tremors as waves of nausea washed over her. With trembling hands, she clung to the edge of the toilet, her breaths coming in short gasps as she fought to keep the roiling contents of her stomach at bay.

In the dim light of the bathroom, her pallid face was drawn with anguish, her eyes wide with fear as she struggled to stop the deafening hurricane raging within her. Each retch sent searing pain coursing through her body, yet still, she clung to the fragile hope that relief would soon come, that the relentless tide of nausea would subside and grant her a break from the merciless torment.

Just as she felt she couldn’t bear it any longer, the bathroom door creaked open, and Nick stepped inside. Without a word, he knelt beside her, gently gathering her hair in his hands and holding it back as she continued to heave.

“Just breathe, P,” Nick whispered, rubbing her back until the retching eased.

When she was sure she wouldn’t vomit again, she sunk to the floor. With her back against the cool tiles, she hugged her knees to her chest, resting her head on them. All she could do was concentrate on her breathing.

She was faintly aware of water running, and a moment later, Nick placed a cold cloth on her neck before he sat down on the tiles next to her.

“P,” Nick started, then hesitated. “When did your panic attacks start again?”

Looking up, she gave him a faint smile—embarrassment seeping through the broken parts of her heart.

“In the hospital the other night,” she answered, dropping her head back on her knees.

“It’s not my business, but you need to talk. If not, I can refer you to someone who can help.”

She lifted her head just enough to raise her eyebrows at him.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, and I know telling you to see someone is as good as trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, but you need to.”

Poison sat back, leaning her head against the tiles with her eyes closed—the voices finally quieting.

“I found Rogan,” she whispered and flinched when Nick sucked in a breath next to her. “Well, he found me.”

“Did he challenge you?”

She shook her head.

“I wish he had. That would have been easier to handle.”

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