Page 254 of Awakened

He opens his hands and lets them fall, slipping through his fingers. One by one they clatter to the floor, bouncing against the tile.

With a curse, he reaches back under the sink and this time pulls out twice as many. Those, too, join the first batch. With an agitated snarl, he plucks one up between his fingers, turning it until he can get a better view of the label.

Whatever he sees doesn’t help his anger at all. He frowns so hard I’m pretty sure the furrow between his brows will be permanent after this.

He grabs another syringe, reads the label, and tosses it into the pile on the floor.

He does the same with the next one. And the next. Annnddd the one after that.

Then he gathers a fistful of them, spins toward the shower, and slings them against the tile. They fall and scatter into the bottom of the bathtub, rolling this way and that. The sound they make reminds me of rain on a tin roof.

Riven takes a step forward, but stops himself at the last second, folding his arms over his chest with a pained expression.

I imagine my own face probably looks the same.

Dax pushes himself up and stalks out of the bathroom. His boots crunch as he steps on the syringes still scattered across the floor. Curious, I creep forward and pick one up, inspecting the label.

Suppressants.

Of course.

“Where the hell does he think he’s going?” Riven murmurs, plucking the suppressant from my hand and frowning as he reads the label. I glance up as Daxen barrels across the room, headed for the only place left⁠—

The balcony.

He barely pauses as he wrenches open the doors and steps outside.

There’s nothing here except for a single towel lying on the ground. It’s stiff and bleached from the sun after weeks left exposed to the elements. With a snarl, Dax kicks it out of his way.

It takes all of five seconds to reach the railing and turn right back around again. When he does, his eyes land on the mattress and narrow.

He locks in like a predator scenting prey.

He practically fucking runs for the mattress, boots thumping against the floor with each pounding step.

Riven cocks his head to the side as Dax bends over and shoves his arms under the mattress, lifting it off the floor. Like he actually thinks there might be some kind of fucking hidden compartment or trap door under it.

I grimace as the mattress falls to the floor and Daxen stares at it before he immediately lifts it back up again. Like maybe the floor changed its mind and decided to lead him to Idril’s real room.

Riven runs both hands down his face. Grimacing, I nod.

Daxen’s paranoia is steadily increasing. It feeds his anxiety, which in turn feeds his rage.

I could stop this. Pull him back from the edge. Talk him down.

Normally, that’s exactly what I’d do.

Not this time.

His scent spikes, biology and emotions overriding everything and cutting straight through his descenter. His scent is bitter and burnt—saturated with anger and disbelief, and sharpest of all—shame.

So much fucking shame that I feel like I’m choking on it.

Riven backs up against the wall to stay out of Dax’s way, and seeing the wisdom in that, I follow. Together, we watch Dax scramble to the corner where her desk sits. He tears open the drawers one by one, pulling some so aggressively they fall out completely. He barely pauses long enough to check inside one before he’s already moving on to the next.

There’s a pencil in one, and in another, he discovers a dog-eared, well-worn copy of The Two Towers that’s been read so often it’s falling apart. I honestly think Riven’s about to have a fucking stroke when Dax almost slaps the book down on top of the desk.

But at the last minute, he stops himself.