Page 170 of The Night Shift
She hesitates for a second, then nods.
I grab the first-aid kit from under her sink and kneel beside her, gently dabbing at the dried blood on her temple. She winces but doesn’t pull away. I focus on her lip next, carefully cleaning the split skin before applying some ointment.
Her eyes flutter shut, her breathing slow and steady. The cuts are plenty, but none are deep enough to need sutures. She just needs to keep them clean and disinfected for a few weeks.
Once I’m done, I stay put long enough to make sure she’s not alone. From the corridor, I catch a glimpse of the person she called. Cami said it would be better if no one sees me here. Not when I still have a fucking stalker on the loose, who now insteadof turning me into the cops, seems hell-bent on targeting the people I care about.
Cold air hits my face as I head downstairs and out of the apartment building. A gnawing sense of unease settles deep in my gut. Theo’s car is parked where I left it. Through the windshield, I see him napping in the driver’s seat, one hand still gripping the wheel while the other sits snug in his sling against his chest.
I open the door and slide in beside him.
Without opening his eyes, he murmurs, “That was quick.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, staring ahead.
“Are Camille’s injuries serious?”
“No.”
There’s a tiny pause. I hear him shift in his seat, sitting up straighter. I can feel his eyes on me as he examines my face closely. “Is everything okay, love?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“First, it was the messages threatening to turn me in. I handled it. Then they tried to pin a murder on me. I handled that too. Then they hurt you. Broke your hand, killed Parker’s cat, and I thought I handled it by killing Nate, but obviously I was wrong.” My fingers are cold. “Now Cami’s hurt and I…I don’t know what to do anymore. Where to look. Who to stab.”
My breath quickens, uneven. The edges of my vision blur. My chest clenches like it’s bound in iron, until I physically can’t take in air. Panic crawls up my spine, its icy grip pulling me under.
“Holly.” Theo shifts closer. “You’re okay.”
I shake my head violently. “No, I’m not. What if this never ends? What if April’s next? Or Parker? What if it’s already too late —”
“Holly.” Theo reaches for my hand, but I jerk back, pressing my fists against my chest as my lungs squeeze tighter. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t —
“Holly, look at me.”
“I can’t.” I physically can’t move my head. I’m stuck.
His hand finds mine again, gripping it tightly, prying my fingers apart before I can claw into my own skin. “You’re having a panic attack,” he says, calm as ever. “But you’re safe here, okay? You’re not alone.”
I shake my head, gasping.
“Baby, breathe with me.” His fingers thread through mine, grounding me. “In through your nose. Four seconds.”
I try my best. My breath shudders, jagged and uneven.
“Good. Now hold it for four seconds.”
“I can’t.” My body won’t let me. My chest feels too tight.
Theo squeezes my hand. “Try.”
I force the air in, my lungs burning.
“That’s it. You’re doing great, love. Now exhale through your mouth. Four seconds.”
I exhale sharply.
