Stiletto Sisterhood

Original Edition: Priya/ Shayne | Fractured Edges

This was not the time or the place for a panic attack.

Priya held her breath. Counted to three, then released—slow and easy. Her thumb and forefinger pressed together as she mentally chanted deeply relaxed, as her therapist had taught her back in her second year of law school. Beneath the wall of chest her heart still bounced and beat in an unnatural rhythm but the numbness was easing out of her fingers as the burst of panic slowly smothered in the iron grip of her self-control.

They didn't spring up on her as often anymore, but when they did—wow. She had minutes to reign it back in or face the consequences and dealing with the dizzying explosion that had erupted between them had pushed to the crumbling, terrifying edge. Left her defenseless and unable to do much of anything as Isobel stormed off in a righteous fury. Cait flounced after her, and Eshe decided to flee to her own corner of the hotel while Priya just stood there.

Breathing. Counting.

Shayne's voice jabbing at the edges of her focus in the background. She was on the phone with someone and, judging her tone, the conversation wasn't going well.

When she was sure she had her wits about her, Priya opened her eyes and crossed to the doorway of Shayne's bedroom in the large executive size suite.

Shayne stood by the bed, an arm banded across her chest and head down. She'd changed out of her leather pants, metallic cropped shirt and heels into faded sweats, billowy t-shirt and sneakers. Her back to the doorway. Every inch of her, rigid.

"I don't want to get into this with you," she snapped, "I told you I'm not going." Aggrieved at whatever the other person on the line had to say, she tossed the phone with a snarl and it bounced on the bed, activating the speaker.

"—believe you won't be there when I need you most," a male voice shot into the room and there was no mistaking who it belonged to. Though she hadn't seen him in close to four years, Priya would know Marco's voice anywhere.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I'm sorry. Probably better for you if I'm not there, anyways. Ask Abuela, I'm sure she'd agree."

He answered the statement with a weary sigh. "I don't care what she thinks, Shayne. You're my sister. I need you with me."

"I can't, Marco. I can't be around all of that." Gone was the heat and flames and in their place was the cool whisper of desperation.

Hearing it, Marco softened. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just doing what I do best, bro. Disappointing everyone. Only a matter of time before I failed you, too."

"What was that all about?" Priya asked as Shayne reached for the phone and cut her brother off, ending the call. When it started to ring again, she shut it off with a groan and tucked it away in her back pocket.

"Clearly you heard, so don't make me repeat myself."

At the bite in Shayne's voice, Priya leaned against the jamb, crossed her arms. Her instincts cautioned against pressing any further—of her Sisters, she understood Shayne best and had known her the longest, but sometimes doing the right thing meant doing the hard thing. "He needs you."

Shayne lanced her with a sharp glare. A look that promised violence. She'd scrubbed the makeup off her face but some remnants of it clung around her eyes in a dark smear that only made her more ominous. "Back off."

"I can't, babe. You know I can't. Because I love you and you're sabotaging yourself. Why? Why are you pushing us all away?" Anger. So much anger, but more than that—hurt. Blazing and bright, swelled in her gaze, pulled at the hard lines of her mouth until it trembled.