Acid swells in my gut, flooding up my throat, and my mouth floods with saliva as the walls close in around me.
Oh no.
I scramble to my feet, sliding on the carpet as I sprint into the kitchen and throw myself at the sink. Just in time as wine tears its way back up my throat, and I spew it into the sink. My body convulses, forcing more wine out of my gut and burning my throat in a stranglehold. I choke, coughing violently through the last rounds of bile amidst the tears streaming hotly down my cheeks.
This can’t be happening. It can’t fucking be happening!
A broken sob tears its way out of my raw throat as I clutch onto the cold side of the sink, coughing and gasping as the cramping nausea twists in my gut. It screams to expel more, to convulse and turn me inside out, but there’s nothing left in my stomach to bring up. I haven’t eaten all day, too busy fretting over Killian and Blair, and now?
Now I have no fucking clue what to do.
Gingerly releasing the edge of the sink, I slowly lower to the cold floor and drag my knees up to my chest as tears cascade unchecked down my cheeks. Underneath the burn of the vomit, my chest cracks open, and my heart pounds freely into the newly formed cavity as the stains from the earlier spilled wine spread out red around me on the tile. Through the tears, it looks like a blood pool, and I sob desperately.
I was socloseto a perfect life. So close to being someone of importance, no longer shoved about like the pawn. I was about to be theQueenin a game I could set up the rules for. Now it lies in tatters, my lie driving Killian and me apart, and now something terrible has happened. I know it.
The heaving pit in my gut knows it.
If Killian dies, what happens to me?
Archer is the only other one that knows, if Killian hasn’t told anyone else.And who would believe Archer over me?
No! Such a twisted thought causes my gut to clench once more, but nothing comes of it. Sniffling, I drag the heels of my hands down my face and straighten out my legs as the tears clear, and I can see the wine stain for what it is.
It’s just wine. Not blood.
Calm down, Cara. For all you know, they just hit a pothole. Or a strip of road with no service.In New York?
Yeah right.
I have nothing left to cry. Exhaustion aches in my joints as I gather what strength I have left and clamber up from the floor. The world tips and I reach for the opposite counter to steady myself, wiping the corner of my mouth as my head throbshard.
Once, twice.
Wait.
Not my head, someone is at the door!
I throw myself into the hall and at the front door, pulling the lock back and flinging the door wide open to see Archer standing there looking as stoic as ever.
“Archer!” I grab him by the forearm, dragging him into the house without a thought. “What happened? I was on a call with Killian, and then there was this horrible crunching noise like a car crash, and then the line went dead. He didn’t answer the phone afterward either!” I spin on my heel and point an accusatory finger at him as he stands in the hall, brows lifted slightly at how I dragged him in without a thought. “Neither did you!”
“Mrs. Scarano-”
“Cara.”
“Cara.” Archer clears his throat, and I bounce up onto the balls of my feet as I await an explanation. Archer straightens his cufflinks, and as I wait, the small burst of energy drains out of me and I rest back on my heels.
Is he about to tell me Killian is dead?!
My heart stutters to a stop in my chest, leaving an aching silence in my body as my chest seizes and breath fails me.
“Killian is okay,” Archer says and I throw my hands up with a yell.
“Oh God, lead with that next time!” I snap, as oxygen finally rushes into my lungs so fast that the world spins. My body, wound like a bowstring, releases, and my shoulders sag as my knees knock together. “ I thought— Ifearedhe was—”
“Dead? No,” Archer states, and his arm comes around my waist as the world tips. Before I know it, we’re moving, and the waves in my vision don’t cease until Archer has sat me down on the couch. The chill of the leather smarts sharply against the back of my legs, and I groan faintly as it forces my focus onto the wooden coffee table in front of me.
“What happened?” I ask and my voice sounds oddly far away, just like the odd fluttering beats of my heart. I can’t work out if it’s relief or fear that I need to keep at bay. Reassurance that Killian is alive and okay brings back the fear of what will happen to me, to us, now that the truth is out.