Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 3 A Software Disaster Maddox
"I'm a little concerned this is starting to become repetitive."
The voice pulled me out of sleep, my brain still wrapped in a hazy fog. Instinct kicked in—I shot up, reaching under my pillow.
"It's not there," he said calmly, but I ignored him, my hand still scrambling side to side, desperate to feel the weight of it. Panic coiled tight in my chest, each breath tangling up in a knot that felt like it was strangling me from the inside out. Sweat beaded on my temples, searing hot against my skin, and my hands were starting to shake, harder with every empty sweep under the pillow.
Mateo groaned beside me. "You can't fucking do that to him, Kirsan."
"It's only temporary," Kirsan replied, his tone maddeningly detached. "I'm trying to see what happens when his coping mechanism is removed. Eventually, I'd rather you not be a crutch for him either. But we'll get there in time."
"So your plan is to give him a panic attack first thing in the morning?" Mateo snapped; his voice raw with anger. "Goddamn it, Kirsan. Keep your theories and tests away from him. Or at least give him some kind of warning."
"That would defeat the purpose," Kirsan replied smoothly, as if my spiraling didn't concern him in the slightest.
I lurched forward, not giving a single fuck about their argument. My gun was gone. Really gone. My hands flew to my head, pressing against my temples as if I could somehow crush the screeching noise building inside. It was so loud, so sharp, it felt like it was carving through my skull. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted my own screams to die out. I wanted the world to go silent, if only for a second, because this was torture. People fear the world ending, but mine ends every time I wake up. I live in this... this deadly feeling.
Alvin, my husky, jumped up onto the bed, nudging his snout against my hands to pull them away from my head. He whined, sensing the state I was spiraling into. I dropped my hands to wrap around his neck, burying my face into his fur. He leaned into me, pressing his weight against my chest, wedging himself between my knees as he tried to anchor me, to pull me back to this reality. He licked my face, my hands—anywhere he could reach—doing everything he could to calm me down.
Beside me, Mateo's voice was taut with anger. "How would you feel if I just fucked with your mind first thing in the morning?" he snapped, aiming his frustration at Kirsan. But I was barely tethered to the conversation, holding onto the fraying edges of reality that kept slipping further and further away. I couldn't mediate between them, not like this. Right now, it was all I could do just to stay present.
Kirsan's voice cut through, cold and clinical. "I don't see how you could manage that. I don't rely on a coping mechanism."
Mateo's tone darkened. "There are plenty of ways I could ruin your day the second it starts."
