A scream ripped from Lara's throat—raw, ragged, and filled with a terror so primal it barely sounded human.
The room fell deathly still.
Then came the gasping.
Her breaths turned frantic, each one sharper than the last. Her chest heaved violently, drawing in desperate gulps of air that never seemed enough. She clawed at her own throat as though invisible hands were strangling her.
Ares' blood ran cold.
He recognized the signs immediately.
She was having a panic attack.
Her collarbones rose and fell like pistons, each breath forcing her body into painful spasms. Her lips trembled. Tears streamed uncontrollably down her face as her eyes stared at something that wasn't there—something only she could see.
"Lara."
He knelt before her, forcing himself to remain calm despite the fear clawing at his own chest.
"Lara, look at me."
She didn't hear him.
She was trapped somewhere far away, imprisoned by a nightmare from which she couldn't wake.
What happened?
