Page 115 of Manic

“Are you okay?” Naomi asked quietly, her face pinching with concern. She continued talking, but her voice faded into the background as blood whooshed between my ears. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply before opening them again. Naomi patiently waited for my answer.

“I… uh… Would you mind if I used the bathroom?” I rasped, my hands turning clammy.

“Oh, sure. Just around the corner.”

I held my breath and rose from my seat, a sharp ringing filling my ears, the edges of my eyes darkening. I forced a rough exhale and slipped into the corridor, knowing I needed answers from Manic. But as my heels touched the marble, Amelia called my name.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I clipped, unable to take the constricting pressure in my chest. The need to breathe.

“Wait. Please, Sutton,” she blurted.

I gritted my teeth and reluctantly faced her. Amelia glanced over her shoulder—at the now too-drunk family members crowded in the sitting room. She swung her gaze back, her voice dropping.

“I know keeping everything from you was wrong,” she said, “but I want to make it right. Please, just give me a chance.”

I blinked. “And how would you do that?”

She wrung her hands before shooting another look over her shoulder. “Ronan isn’t planning on releasing you to your parents.”

My stomach dropped, the air leaving my lungs.

“I know that already,” I lied, too afraid of what she’d say next.

Please, please don’t say it. I sensed what was coming though, and I didn’t want to fucking hear it. Not now.

“Do you?” she questioned. “Because Dmitri wants you, and he’s already bargained with Ronan for your release. They’re trading you, Sutton. You’re going to the Russians in two weeks, not your parents.”

29

SUTTON

The anxiety beneath my skin flourished like a well kept garden, sprouting until I was seconds from ripping my hair out and screaming. Unable to take my own bubbling hysteria, I left Amelia behind by the burn of my heels.

Finding Manic was my priority, but everything around me became a low buzz between my ears, and I entered the first door I came across. It definitely wasn't the bathroom, but I didn’t care, I just needed a moment to breathe. To think.

The door closed behind me, and I leaned against the polished wood, slamming my eyes shut. My heart thumped violently beneath my ribcage, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to pass out or vomit.

Amelia was lying, right? They wouldn’t give me to Dmitri, would they? No, I refused to believe they would hand me over to the Russians because Ronan promised my release.

My stomach bottomed out, because my heart knew Ronan had kept it from me instead, meaning Manic kept it from me too. He’d said Dmitri wanted me, not that I was being handed over to him. Was that what they’d discussed when I left Ronan’s office days ago?

Saliva flooded my mouth, but I forced down the bile threatening to spew. After four long breaths, I opened my eyes. Even though the room was obscured by shadow, it was just as fine and pristine as all the others in this ridiculous mansion.

“Shit,” I said with a shuddering breath.

Tears stung my eyes as the walls compressed.

There was nowhere to go, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to laugh or cry or scream. I stared at the long windows, my legs shaky, my body worn and tired. God, I was so tired. It was dark now, the night serene and cold beyond the glass. Trees loomed outside, but they weren't caged. Not like me.

Light glinted on a handle like a beacon, beckoning me to inch closer, and my breathing cut short. Whatever this room was, it had an exit on the first floor. It had a door that led outside.

Hope slammed into me.

No one besides Amelia and Naomi knew that I’d gone to the bathroom. Without thinking, I raced toward the door and slipped outside with quick breaths. Cold wind blasted my face, the scent of pine and salt and grass attacking my nose.

Was this impulsive? Yes. But this was the closest I’d come to escaping. This was my chance.

The buzz of adrenaline kept my feet moving, and I stuck to the shadows, beelining toward the side of the building where the stairs descended into the garden.