Page 21 of Empowered

Zayn must have stopped the car because, before I realized it, both of his hands were on me, shaking my shoulders to get my attention. I couldn’t hear his words even though his mouth was moving, so I just focused on his eyes, begging for help. He demonstrated slow inhales through his nose and even slower exhales through his mouth.

I mimicked his motions until the spots in front of my eyes slowly faded and my hearing returned.

“Are you okay?” Zayn said, rubbing small circles on my back to soothe me.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“Have you ever had a panic attack before?”

I shook my head.

“You’re okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s a perfectly normal reaction for someone who is returning to where they were held captive. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

I shook my head again and swallowed to clear my throat. “No. I’m okay. Please let me stay.”

His phone buzzed. He checked the screen and hurriedly tucked it back into his pocket.

“Fine. But stay in the car,” he warned.

“I will,” I promised, even though I didn’t want to.

He eyed me skeptically, as if wondering whether to trust me. Then, he opened the glove compartment and rummaged through it, searching for something. I noticed the flash of a silver handgun amidst other supplies stored in the tiny compartment. He grabbed a phone and tossed it into my lap before closing the glove compartment.

“A phone?”

“Use this burner phone to text me if anything happens while you’re out here. My number is the only one programmed into it.”

I checked the contact list to verify. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” he warned, pointing his finger at me like a father would to his child.

“Why didyou bring me?” I asked. He could have just tied me up and left me behind so I would stay put. Instead, I was right outside in the getaway car.

“Because I would do the same thing if I were you. And you would have found a way to follow me.” He smiled and exited the car before I had a chance to respond.

There I sat, waiting. Waiting for something to happen. A loud boom from explosions. Screams. Gunfire. But none of those things occurred.

I didn’t know if it was the building heat in the stuffy car or because I was outside of my captor’s home—the place where I was beaten, slashed, and left in a cell for days—but I felt anxiety creep back into my chest. My diaphragm was taut with tension, preventing me from taking the long inhales and exhales that Zayn had instructed me to use. My breaths came out short and quick, like I was hyperventilating again.

I couldn’t stay in the car a moment longer, even though I had promised Zayn I would. I opened the glove compartment and grabbed the gun I had seen.

My hand moved to the latch on the door and pulled. Fresh air invaded my nostrils as I tumbled out. My breathing came easier as soon as I was no longer contained in that tiny car.

I had never had an issue with panic attacks in my life, so I didn’t know how to handle these fits I kept experiencing. Perhaps this would be my new normal since I had been a victim of kidnapping. I should probably see a therapist when I reached home, but for now, I needed to do something. Anything but sit still and wait. I couldn’t suppress my reaction to being near this house again, so I needed to find another way to satisfy my need for control.

I stood upright and tucked the gun in my waistband. I looked around the street and didn’t see anyone in sight. The large security gate in front of the house was open for the wedding. I snuck through the gate without anyone stopping me. I found it odd that no guards were stationed there, especially when the gate was opened to allow guests inside. Perhaps Shyam’s men had gotten to the guards already.

Zayn told me that the wedding would most likely be outside, so I was assuming that the guests would need to go through the house to get to the gardens in the back. I couldn’t go through the front entrance for fear of being seen, so I quietly snaked around to the side of the pink palace, unsure of where it would take me. I hadn’t been able to explore the perimeter to know the layout, so I proceeded with caution.

The exterior of the house was made of stone and the doors were reinforced with steel, leaving it an impenetrable fortress. I was sure the windows would be reinforced to avoid break-ins too, so I decided against trying to break one open with the pebbles that decorated the pathway.

Ducking low to avoid anyone seeing me from inside a window, I continued along the perimeter. A figure caught my eye through one of the windows, and I dropped to the ground on my belly to hide. After taking a few steadying breaths, I peeked up to see if the person had left. The figure seemed to belong to a young woman, most likely a maid. The person didn’t seem to have noticed me, to my relief.

An idea came to me. I felt for one of the many pebbles I lay upon. My hand rested on a large, smooth one. I held it in my fist and swung my hand, releasing the stone. It flew from my hand to the window on the first floor, causing a loudclackagainst the glass. Nothing happened. I repeated the motions again with another pebble and then another. The window opened. I slipped my hand under my top, grabbing the gun. I clicked the safety off.

The maid stuck her head out the window, searching for the source of the tapping. Suddenly, she locked eyes on me. I remembered her from my time as a prisoner here. She must have remembered me too. Her eyes widened with alarm and her mouth opened as if to scream for help. I jumped to my feet, closing the distance between us, and aimed the gun to her face. She froze with fear.

I had only killed a person once before, and that was because it was necessary. I didn’t want to make a habit of it, but I needed the woman to believe that her life was in danger so she’d stay quiet. From the looks of it, I was very convincing.

---