Page 227 of Micah
The wrecked bar.
The overturned tables.
The men limping toward the parking lot.
Sawyer talking quietly with one of the deputies pulling in outside.
Benji standing near the doorway, making damn sure none of those bastards decides to be stupid on the way out.
It all becomes background noise.
I kneel down with Sloane in my arms, and my fingers search my pocket.
See, I started to carry a spare the second we started whatever you wanna call this.
The inhaler slides into my palm.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like approaching a frightened animal. I grip it tight, but she flinches when I hold it up.
Not from me.
From everything.
Her hands are trembling so badly she can't seem to make them stop.
My chest aches.
I hate seeing her like this.
Without saying anything, I hold it to her lips.
“Princess.”
Her eyes finally meet mine.
Wide.
Glassy.
Still full of adrenaline.
Recognition replaces panic.
“Oh...”
She lets out a shaky breath.
“Th-thank you.”
Her fingers brush mine as she takes it.
Cold.
Shaking.
