Page 12 of Unhinged Obsession

I know if someone doesn’t find me soon, I’m going to pass out.

ELIJAH

CHAPTER SIX

Ascream tears through the barn so suddenly that Paris’s grumpy ass horse throws its head over the stall door, that green sludge she feeds it dripping from its nose and mouth.

It’s like my body reacts on its own, because I’m running down the long walkway between the stalls and indoor arena. Yeah, I’m mad that she disappeared on me, but I swear to fuck if anything or anyone hurt her, I’m going to lose it.

I’m just about to yell for her, but I see someone in a Saint’s mask exit Beau’s stall. Whoever it is makes eye contact with me and then takes off running toward the exit. I could go after them, knock them to the ground, and beat them to death for messing with her. I’ve done far worse to someone for messing with Blair, but I know now isn’t the time.

Blair is my priority, and I need to make sure she's okay before I deal with that motherfucker. And I will.

I throw the door open so hard it crashes against the wall, and my stomach twists at the sight of her. Blair is curled against the wooden wall with one hand pressed against her chest while the other claws weakly at the fresh pine bedding. Every breath she tries to take catches in her throat before it ever reaches her lungs, her shoulders shaking with the effort as panic floods her eyes.

Fucking hell.

I drop beside her so fast my knees slam into the rubber mats beneath the bedding, and I’m frantically digging in my pocket for one of her inhalers.

"Hey," I say, trying to keep my voice steady even though seeing her have an asthma attack has been and most likely will be the most traumatic thing I’ve ever witnessed. And I’ve crushed a man’s windpipe with my boot for grabbing her ass before. "Look at me."

Her eyes find mine immediately, and the wild look of pure panic has my hands shaking. When Blair’s eyes flash to the inhaler I’ve pulled out, I see the surprise in her eyes, maybe even confusion. I never told her that I keep extra ones for her, and have since I was old enough to do so. I couldn’t fathom the thought of one malfunctioning or her losing it at the wrong time. Her asthma can flare from stress, smells, allergens, and I’m not taking any chances.

"I've got you." I lift it to her lips, and she opens her mouth, closing her eyes in pure relief. "Come on, sweetheart. Slow breath."

She does exactly what I ask, inhaling shakily and letting the albuterol do its job.

I press down on the canister again when she holds up two of her fingers. I already know she takes two pumps, but I’m glad she’s less panicked and able to communicate with me. She inhales as deeply as she can.

I stay exactly where I am, crouched in front of her, unable to look away now that she's finally breathing again.

My little dove looks so small like this, fragile, even, and that bothers me. Where the fuck has she been? Why did she run off and not tell me a damn thing? Without thinking, I reach toward her, wanting to brush that golden brown hair away from her face the way I have a thousand times before.

She flinches even as she breathes deeply through her nose, filling her lungs with much-needed air. She recoils from my hand like she's expecting it to hurt.

"Blair..."

She turns her head, and that's when I see them. Pink scars disappear beneath the collar of her uniform, angry against her skin. Every protective instinct I've ever had crashes into me all at once, hot enough to make my vision blur around the edges.

I think I could quite possibly black out with rage.

I catch Blair’s wrist and quickly fold her hand into mine before she can pull the collar closed. I’m careful not to squeeze, careful not to frighten her any more than she already is.

"Who did this to you?" My tone is as gentle as it can be when I’m ready to murder every person on this campus if she doesn’t pinpoint who did it. They can all go, I sincerely don’t give a fuck at this point. I have missed this girl. I have grieved for her, and now that she’s in front of me, I find out that someone put their hands on her?

Someone, probably multiple people, are going to die for this.

“Elijah, just–” she starts, but whatever she was going to say is covered by a cough that I’ve come to expect after she has an asthma attack.

Before I can stop myself, my hand slips to her shoulder, carefully easing the fabric down just enough that I can see the rest of the marks.

I wish I hadn't.

The scars disappear beneath her shirt, raised and uneven against skin that should've never looked like that, and I just stare because none of it makes any sense. My brain keeps trying to convince me there's another explanation, that I'm somehow seeing something different than what's actually there, but no matter how many times I blink, they're still there, carved into my little dove.

"I’m fine, please just leave it alone. You need to stay away from me." Her voice is so quiet I almost miss it, and she’s refusing to meet my eyes.

“Like fucking hell. I’ll handcuff myself to you if I need to. Now tell me what is going on." Blair has always had this innate ability to calm me down, make whatever over-the-top emotion I’ve been feeling settle, but not even heavy sedation would make me calm right now.