Hell To Pay

Chapter 10: Panic

Harper jack-knifed to a sitting position as a hand snaked around her arm and she screamed on gut reaction. Hands were around her throat and she couldn't move her head so she started thrashing, one hand still around her arm, trying to pin it down. Her feet kicked and the ropes tightened around them so she screamed again, desperately sucking at the air before the chokehold on her throat stole her breath.

Someone was yelling at her and she ducked and covered her head in fear of the incoming kick and she rolled away in hopes of evading. The ground disappeared beneath her, pain filled her body for a brief moment before her adrenaline kicked into overdrive, erasing it from conscious thought.

Get away, get away! Run while you can.

Her hands were free, she wasn't sure how, but her legs were still tied. Someone grabbed her shoulders, her throat was still constricted and tight. She heard her name on repeat and her blurry vision tried to pinpoint the source, somewhere her brain registering the voice, trying to follow it.

"Harper!"

"Choking!" She wheezed.

"You're not choking, I'm right here!" The hands on her shoulders squeezed. "I'm right here, it's me." He cupped her cheeks now and she struggled to focus, panting, heart racing at breakneck speed but he was wrong.

"Lyle they're choking me!"

"They're not choking you, baby, you have a neck brace on, no one's choking you."

"Can't breathe."

"You're breathing fine, just take a deep breath-stop, don't do that you'll hurt yourself worse." He pulled her head down to his shoulder and held her close, his hand on the back of her head. She wailed again, not sure if this was real, trying to find some form of calm in his embrace. Tears stung her eyes as he whispered softly in her ear that she was safe.

"Should I still sedate her?"

She jerked and lifted her head and spotted a nurse across the room. The poor woman looked disgruntled, her scrubs were wet, and Harper realized there was a puddle streaking across the floor and drips of blood that had a trail to her arm.

"I've got her." Lyle replied, but now she was more focused on the person next to them. Who the hell is holding my arm and when did he get here? There was a man crouched next to her and Lyle with his thumb pressed down firmly over a spot on her inner elbow. "You with me, baby?"

His voice was low and she blinked, staring over his shoulder as he continued to hold her still. She couldn't feel anything, just a strange numb existence inside her own body and the uncertainty at the man she spotted in the doorway. She swallowed, watching him and he just stared back, a mixture of emotions in his eyes. His expression was steel, but she knew him too well, she knew his indigo eyes gave away his truths in ways he didn't want them to.

Lyle was asking her something as the nurse brought some gauze, but she was still staring at Flint standing in the doorway and he finally spoke, "Panic attacks suck, right?"

Lyle stiffened and the other guy, the one holding her arm, whipped his head around. The nurse effectively ignored them as she started cleaning Harper's arm up and Flint strolled into the room with a deceptively lazy gait. His voice washed over her, familiar and warm despite the time that had separated them, and Lyle's reaction was proof enough that she wasn't seeing or hearing things.

"Okay?" He asked gently.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way back to base by now?" Lyle finally snapped at him and she frowned at him. She'd hoped things wouldn't be bad between them if Flint ever came back. That's a joke, you knew better. Why else would he have left in the first place?