Dane

A shudder rocked through him and a strange noise erupted from his throat.

​​

His father was coming. For Lila.

Visions of blood and pale, gray skin. Dead eyes.

Dane put his hands to his head and turned a circle, pleading, he had to find the guy, had to see, had to save her… But there was nothing.

God really did hate him.

And with that thought, his chest began to squeeze. He kept sucking in, but couldn't seem to find any oxygen. Leaning forward, hands on his knees, he pulled on the air.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't watch this happen. It would break his heart.

Fuck, it would break his mind.

He stumbled to the wall and turned to let his back rest against it, near where Chris was struggling with Tish's near-dead-weight and talking to him with a grin. But he couldn't hear the words. His vision began to tunnel and he wondered if he would actually die now.

But who would watch out for Lila then?

Then, as another shudder shook his massive frame, he felt it. That robotic lack of feeling. That impossible calm. It seeped into his limbs first so his hands stopped shaking. Then his breathing returned—first with heaving breaths that brought relief to the rest of his screaming body, then easing until he was breathing normally.

Dane blinked, and suddenly found he could think again, could hear again. Then finally the sound of the world rushed back in.

"…whoa, hold up there, Tish!" There was a thump beside him as Chris did something to stop Tish falling over. Dane blinked again. They didn't know. They were going to find out.

Shit.

"Yikes. What a lightweight. She's been drinking since we arrived. Going to take her home before someone gets a picture. I'd been keeping her at the bar so she wouldn't attract attention, but I went to the bathroom and some stupid moron gave her some shots while I was gone."

Dane turned and focused on Chris. His brother. And Tish. His Assistant.

Chris looked at him strangely. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Dane snapped, his voice as hollow as his chest felt.

Chris gave him a skeptical look, but shrugged. "Well, okay. Can I take one of the cars from the convoy, or do I need to call another one?"

"What for?" Dane was impressed by how calm his voice sounded.

Chris stared. "To get Tish home? Like I was just saying? Dane, what's going on with you—?"

Dane flapped a hand and made himself stare at the dance floor and the swirling couples. "Of course, of course. Take her. Just make sure the driver gets her all the way inside." Dane turned to scan the room again, this time with his cold eyes. But there was nothing. Not a ripple of someone running. Not a single odd cluster of noise. Not a clue where the man he'd been pursuing had gone. Was there some kind of hidden alcove or exit he'd missed in his rush to get out here?

Chris grunted and Tish laughed again. "I'll take her myself. I don't want her messing with the driver on the way and I want to make sure there's someone there to help her before we leave."

"Fine, fine. Good. I'm leaving too."

"You are? But... they haven't done the honors yet."

Dane swore, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. He'd forgotten. Every year there were honors given out to the patrons deemed to have given the most "support" to the Refuge. Which really just meant giving all the people who had donated the most money a little plaque with their names on it.

Dane already had four of them. He was always on the list. He was supposed to be in the ballroom later to receive the applause of this godforsaken crowd so someone could get a picture of him and the staff celebrating and put it on a damned website so the people would believe he hadn't killed a woman to rid his life of her lawsuit.

The idea was laughable.

Dane laughed.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?" Chris snapped, shouldering Dane as he dragged a giggling Tish over next to Dane. "You're acting really weird."

Dane leaned his head back against the wall and stared at his brother. "It's nothing. I can't—"

"He's angry at me," the world's most beautiful voice said from in front of them. "Leave him. I'll handle it." They both snapped their heads around to find Lila staring, with her hands on her hips.

Chris looked back and forth between them, then sighed and shrugged Tish up higher so she was almost upright. "Okay, fine. Whatever. One of you can fill me in tomorrow."

"Or not," Dane said, his voice low and hard. But he made it that way. He didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. He was numb.

He was looking at Lila analytically—like a scientist would view a specimen. Five minutes earlier he'd had his hands on her and been about to come in his pants like a teenager, he'd burned so hot for her. Everything in him had yearned for her.

Now it was like she was behind a wall of glass. He could see her. He could hear her. But…nothing. There was nothing inside him. And she was staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

He raked a hand through his hair and looked over the crowd again.

Chris sighed. "Whatever you say big brother. I'll see you tomorrow, no doubt."

"No doubt," Dane said, but didn't look at him.

Lila kept staring at him. He could feel the spotlight of her gaze. But he couldn't feel her. Had his father already done it? Killed what was inside him for this woman just by putting her under threat?

He thought she was beginning to understand. Her expression had shifted from angry, to indignant, to concerned. But, bless her, she didn't move or speak as they waited for Chris to get his arm around Tish's waist and walk her off. Dane didn't know where the rest of the team was. Back at their team table, he assumed. From the corner of his eye he saw Lila fold her arms as Chris finally dragged Tish far enough away that he couldn't overhear them. Dane kept scanning the room, though he'd given up on identifying their photographer.

Now he needed to think. To plan. To strategize.

"Dane?" Lila's voice was quiet, but firm.

He shook his head. "I didn't catch him."

Lila blew out a breath and held her face in her hands for a moment. "It's going to be okay," she said, looking around. "How much time do we have, do you think? Dane?" She put a hand to his arm and he jerked it away from her.

Her eyes went wide.

"Don't touch me in public," he said through his teeth. "Until we know—for certain—nothing changes. The rules. We still need to follow—"

"Dane, the camera flashed. We need to get ahead of this. With everything else that's going on—"

"Nothing. Changes." He was cold. He was ice. He had to think. Her mouth dropped open. He ignored it. "You should take a car. I'll call a team to follow it, to make sure you get there. Go straight to the Penthouse. I'll get the award, then meet you there. I'll have John put an online flag out—when that picture gets posted he can have the link to us in seconds. Then we'll need to—"

"Dane."

"—figure out just how bad the risk is. Maybe you can't even tell it's us. But assuming they can—"

"Dane, look at me."

"—we'll need to decide whether we're going to spin it as a scandal or let it be a story. I mean, we could say it's just a drunken mistake—"

"DANE."

He didn't know how she'd moved, but she was in front of him, one hand on his chest. He kept his eyes above her, on the crowd behind her. It wasn't until her soft hand touched him that he realized how rigid his body was. He didn't move. He didn't have the energy to remove her hand. She leaned in and spoke low and quick.

"It's shock. You're in shock."

He scoffed. "I am not—"

"Dane Daniels, if you don't look at me, I swear on my mother's grave I will kiss you in front of all these people."

He swallowed and finally looked down. Her chin was down, but she looked up at him through her lashes. Her eyes were huge. And very serious. Her fingers on his chest curled in slightly.

"You're in shock," she repeated. "It's okay. It's normal. This is a big deal, and something you've been scared of for a long time. But the thing with shock is, it wears off. And when it does, this is going to hit you and I don't think we can risk you waiting for this award, just in case."

He just stared.

"Do you have the drivers on speed dial?" she asked gently.

"Of course."

"Call one for us. Along with whatever you'd normally do when there's a security breach. We're going home. Right now."

.

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