CHAPTER FORTY
Connor
R aina claws at her chest like she’s trying to tunnel a hole right into her lungs for air. Her lips are turning a sickening shade of blue that signals death to me.
“Venom,” my voice cracks. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer me. There’s just wheezing, choking, and gasping that awful, scratchy noise that doesn’t sound human.
I hop off her immediately, realizing I’m an elephant sitting on her fucking chest. “What, what the fuck is this?”
“Asthma.” Her wild and glassy eyes roll into the back of her skull as she attempts to suck in another breath. Her hands scrabble toward the nightstand, knocking shit over.
“Aw fuck, baby, what do I do?”
“My...gear pack,” she hoarsely whispers. “Need...my spray.”
Eagle-eyed, I gaze around the room and see a leather shoulder bag lazily tossed in the corner. I dive for it and empty it in front of her.
A clunky blue and grey thing with a mouthpiece falls out. I leave the rest on the ground and shove the inhaler in her hand. “Here, baby.”
She wraps her lips around it and presses the container down. But it does nothing.
She shakes it and takes another hit. “No. Don’t...be empty.”
Still nothing.
Panic hits me like a goddamn semi barreling down the highway out of control. I’ve handled torn flesh. Bullet wounds. Knives lodged in ribs. I held Ewan’s leg together with my bare fucking hands when he took a bullet for Kieran O’Rourke.
But this?
Raina is shaking and suffocating in front of my eyes. And I can’t stop it. I can’t fight it. I can’t shoot the threat killing her .
Her body curls tighter, her entire frame rattling. Every breath is like a scream from her chest without sound.
“Fuck. Fuck. Okay,” I mutter, looking for my wallet. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Even if it means mowing down my enforcer team to get there. A thought smashes into my brain like a baseball bat.
Enforcer. Trace. I just saw him outside with Rhys. His wife Shea-Lynne has asthma.
I crash through the apartment and yank open the front door so hard, I dent the wall. Trace stands with Rhys near the curb in mid-conversation. Probably discussing the Albanians or how I’ve lost my fucking mind keeping Raina.
“Trace!” I roar into the courtyard, loud enough to shake the leaves off the fucking trees.
He sees my face and pulls his weapon without a word.
“No,” I snap, giving him the signal to lower his gun. “Raina. She can’t breathe. Her inhaler is empty.”
His eyes widen. “Raina has asthma?”
“Aye!” I nod, feeling frantic. “What the fuck do I do?”
“We take her to the hospital, that’s what we fucking do,” Rhys says, whistling to Blade to get his SUV over here.
“No!” Trace barks. “I keep an extra rescue inhaler for my wife in my car. I’ll get it.”
The last time I saw him run like that was to save Shea-Lynne in Ireland when a madman kidnapped her. Thirty seconds later, he’s back, hair wild, shoving a red inhaler into my hand .
“Where is she?” he asks, looking over my shoulder.
“No. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her like this. I’ve got it.” I turn and sprint toward my bedroom. “I got a new inhaler, baby.” I slam the bedroom door behind me and drop beside her on the floor where she’s thrashing around. “Take this. Please.”
Her red, watery eyes flick to my face, then down to my hand. They widen, seeing the inhaler. She grabs it from me and takes the hit.
But for a second, nothing happens.
What the fuck?? Is it not asthma? Is it something else?
I’m ready to scream for Rhys to get Blade here to take us to the hospital, but Raina’s chest jerks. Her shoulders shudder. She coughs one more time with force. Whatever held her lungs in a vise breaks when she wheezes. It’s harsh, but it’s the sound of fucking life.
Air.
Sweet, goddamn air.
And I almost collapse.
Pressing my forehead against hers, I whisper her name over and over. She’s still breathing fast, wheezy, but she’s taking one gulp at a time.
I pull Raina into my arms, too tightly maybe, but I can’t let go. Not yet. Not after this. Not after seeing her slip away in front of my eyes. My hands are shaking as my brain replays the scene in my head. Raina thrashing on the floor tore my world apart.
Her skin is damp with sweat. Her chest rises and falls like she ran a race with no finish line. It hits me. She ran away from me. That triggered this.
“Easy, Venom,” I murmur, cradling her head against my chest. “You’re okay now. You’re okay.”
I rock her without even meaning to. My body just does it.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper over and over. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Her fingers curl weakly into my shirt. I think she’s trying to talk, but the words aren’t there yet.
“You can’t leave me, Raina,” I say into her hair. “I just got a taste of losing you, and I swear I can’t handle it.”
I pull back enough to look at her. Her lashes flutter. Eyes glassy. Her mouth twitches.
“You talk too fucking much,” she rasps.
A choked laugh punches from my throat. It’s broken and tight. “The mouth on you. If you weren’t fighting for every breath, I’d teach that mouth a lesson with my cock.” I press a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m okay now.” She tries to push away. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life.”
“You’re never going through something like that alone again,” I say, holding her tight. “Not while I’m alive.”
She coughs, her whole body sinking into mine as we sit on my floor. I can tell she believes me. Believes that I fucking mean it.
I will let her be the strongest woman in the world, stronger than I am. But I’ll always fight to be the one who gets to carry her when she can’t breathe.
“What now, my love?” I stroke her forehead. “What do you need now?”
She clears her throat, taking tentative breaths like she’s not sure the air will be there. But she’s silent.
The kind of silence that haunts me.
Until she utters, “You need to let me go.”