Page 21 of Protected from Reprisal
And another.
They’re moving faster now, almost in a run.
My heart leaps into my throat.
With my finger on the trigger of the pepper spray, I spin around, tense and ready to confront whoever’s coming after me.
Once again, I’m faced with only an empty parking lot.
How?
For a moment, I wonder if I’m going crazy.
I heard the noise.
I know I did.
But there’s no one here but me.
Calm down,I tell myself. Dr. Abramson warned me to expect my triggers to be worse for a while. And here they are. Worse. Just as she predicted.
But danger or not, I just want to get home.
Shower off the sheen of sweat coating my body, get into my comfiest clothes, cuddle up on the couch with an episode ofBattleBotsand shoot, maybe I will ask Ace to come for a visit, after all. Or maybe I’ll ask about going to the Shadow Team HQ instead. If one of the client apartments is available, I could stay there for a night or two. Hang out with Bea and Eden and Noelle, since I never got the chance at the fundraiser. Then Ace and I can watch TV later, and maybe I’ll get up the courage to tell him I’m not doing as well as I claimed. We can talk it out, and?—
I hear the noise again.
And this time, instinct takes over logic, and I run.
Heart slamming against my chest, my only thought is to get away.
I fumble for my key fob, cursing myself for not having it in my hand already. But I was texting Ace, and I didn’t even think?—
It doesn’t matter!the primal, panicked part of my brain shouts.Just get in your car! Now!
I don’t look over my shoulder again. I can’t risk it. Not when I need every second to escape.
Panic wells up inside me, so big and powerful it’s hard to breathe past it. Gone is strong, brave Yara, who considered beingcalled badass for the first time one of the biggest compliments of her life. In her place is a frightened, helpless Yara whose only conscious thought is to get away.
Before the panic can fully take over, I put on a final burst of speed. In a moment of lucidity, I trigger the alarm on the car, and the horn sounds. The headlights start flashing.
As soon as the car door is within reach, I fling myself at it, half convinced a hand will grab my shoulder and pull me back.
But it doesn’t.
And I get the car door open.
Practically crying from fear and relief, I lunge inside, then yank the door closed after me. But in my haste, I didn’t move my hand fast enough, and the door shuts on it.
Pain explodes through my hand.
I have no idea if it’s bleeding, broken, smashed, and I don’t even care. Not right now. All I care about is getting the damn door closed and locked, so whoever’s out there can’t get me.
With my now-throbbing hand out of the way, the door actually shuts properly this time. As soon as it does, I smash the lock button, almost sobbing when I hear the reassuring click of it.
Only then do I chance another look at the parking lot.
And shit.
