[ON GOING] All Of Me 18+ Only (Book 3 of Lastor series) #Wattys2020

Chapter 9: Frederick

I huffed at every step as I jogged along the shore with Eminem's rapid spits booming in my ears, the coldness fogging my breath. Buster and Padme were running ahead of me, waiting for me at the edge before turning back with me to do another lap. My bodyguards had tapped out after ten laps and were sitting in the distance. I caught Gordon, the Head of my security, talking on the phone as I passed them. He got up and sidled up next to me while I kept my pace.

"What's up?" I asked as I removed one of my earbuds.

"It's Miss Lastor."

I stopped in my tracks, panting. "What happened?"

"She's having another episode."

Episode. That's what they've taken to calling Angel's fits of self-destructive rage. Like she was a show. It's gotten more frequent these days, since she came back from Russia.

I turned on my heel, sprinting back to the mansion while they lagged behind with the dogs. The guards at the gate caught us approaching and had them open by the time we got to them. When I entered the foyer, I heard the screams and the sound of objects being thrown against the walls.

I ran up the stairs, finding Sawyer and Katrina outside the room Angel had made her studio. They were waiting, the way they always did, for her to become a threat to herself.

"You can go," I said before entering the room.

What I saw didn't surprise me. I had grown used to the destruction she wreaked whenever she became too frustrated with being unable to bring anything out that she deemed worth something. I didn't understand it. Every piece of music she's composed was beautiful to me but to her, they were all garbage.

She was tearing at the strings of the new guitar she'd bought just yesterday as she sat on the floor, surrounded by torn up sheets of yet another garbage music. I went to her, wrapping my arms around her and grasping her wrists when she started scratching at her chest. It was so painful, witnessing her suffering so much and being unable to do anything but give her temporary reprieve until it came again. Her pain never seemed to end and only ever grew.

"Ssshh. Breathe," I murmured, pressing my lips to her ear. "Focus on me. Use me. Take out everything until I'm all that's left."

She shifted to face me, wrapping her limbs around me and burying her face against my neck, taking deep breaths. I rocked us gently, reciting the poem she always used to subdue her panic attacks. When I felt her body relax, I lifted her up in my arms and carried her out to the pool. I set her down in the water and she went under, sitting on the floor for several minutes before surfacing with a gasp.

I went to sit by the patio and just watched her as she floated on her back in the surface, making sure she didn't fall asleep and drown again. The air was piercing cold against my skin and I had no doubt the water was worse off but she didn't seem bothered. She was like a nymph, drawn to still water and felt the most at peace when she was surrounded by it.

"It's getting worse," I heard Katrina say behind me.

I sighed. "Yeah."

She ambled on her crutch to take a seat on the chair next to me, folding a towel on her lap. "Has she told you about everything that happened in Russia?"

"You mean the mystery kidnappers? Yeah." I leaned back, spreading my legs. "What the hell is happening, Kat?"

"I don't know, neither does Arthur. Miss Lastor issued an order for us to not get involved, but I think she means it only for us. Not her."

"She's not going to entertain them, is she?" I asked dubiously.

Ever since leaving New York, she's been going after one thrill after the next. Last month, she'd granted a favor for someone that involved providing support for a militant uprising while also secretly supporting the government and left the country in ruins. Yet when she came home and I asked how the trip went, she claimed it was just 'fine'. Now, she had gone from manipulating a nation's security out of boredom to getting the shit beaten out of her for kicks.