Page 95 of Knot Playing Fair 2

“Forsythe, Jamison, Walker—with me!” barked my living crutch. “Fall in, we’ve got injured victims in the building. You... Mr. Bell. Lead the way.”

FORTY

Mia

I FELT AS THOUGH Iwas hovering outside my body, looking down as my hands and legs went through the motions of overseeing the line and making food. My voice called out orders and demanded check-ins, but I couldn’t have said where in my brain the words originated.

Every conscious thought was taken over by worry and guilt. How could I be here, playing at normalcy when people I loved were in danger... possibly injured or even dead? Where the hell did I get off serving mini pizza rounds and lava cake to laughing customers when Luca, Nat, and Byron weregone?

I don’t think I could have held it together if not for Emiel, who’d parked himself in an out-of-the-way corner of the kitchen at the beginning of the lunch service and refused to budge for the rest of the day. Whenever I felt like I couldn’t stand the pressure for another second, I’d glance over, and there he was. Solid and steady, his eyes locked on me and never straying.

It didn’t help that Shani kept throwing me worried glances. She’d tried to talk to me about what was happening at the beginning of the shift, and again during the mid-afternoon lull. I’d put her off—brusquely, the first time, and downright aggressively, the second.

I... probably owed her an apology for the second brush-off, at a minimum. I just knew that if I’d responded to her worry, I’d have broken down on the spot.

The clock on the kitchen wall had been moving ridiculously slowly all day. I’d think to myself,it’s been at least an hour since I checked the time, and when I looked up, only ten minutes had passed. I had no idea how Emiel was able to stand there so still and silent without going completely insane. If I hadn’t been busy almost nonstop, I wouldn’t have been able to function this long.

And wewerebusy. Enthusiasm for the restaurant’s reopening hadn’t dimmed, and once again, the place was packed. It was—finally—less than an hour until close, and every table in the building was still occupied.

“Maleeka, check the stock of thawed steaks—I want at least another dozen ready to go!” I watched myself say, as I moved efficiently along a line of skillets, flipping the contents of each one like an automaton.

“Yes, chef!” Maleeka called, moving briskly to do as I’d asked.

A new round of orders came in, and I was midway through checking them and barking directions to the line cooks when I saw Emiel frown and pull his phone out of his pocket. He lifted it to his ear and started speaking in low tones, his frown deepening. Abruptly, I stuttered to a halt like a wind-up toy running down.

“Boss?” A gentle hand closed around my arm, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Emiel to look at my sous chef.

Shani tugged me toward the alpha with brisk movements, practically shoving me at him when we got close. “I’ll take over the line for a minute, okay?” she said.

I nodded dumbly, my gaze still fixed on Emiel’s face.

A moment later, he broke into a grin. I slammed abruptly back into my body, my heart twisting as I tried to decide if it was safe to hope.

“We’ll be there as soon as we can, Z,” he said into the phone. “Don’t let the cops bully you into sayin’ anything stupid.”

“What’s happening?” I asked breathlessly, once he’d disconnected the call, feeling shaky and faint. “Is Zalen okay?”

It wasn’t what I really wanted to ask, but it seemed like the safest place to start.

Emiel nodded. “He’s fine. The others are at Barnes Jewish Hospital. They’re all alive, nothing critical.”

My surroundings went gray, and I swayed forward into his arms. He held me up effortlessly, giving me a comforting squeeze.

“We need to go check on them,” he said against my hair. “Can you leave?”

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