Chapter 240
ROO POV
Nonna had already wheeled beside her. Her hand hovered at Katya’s back, not touching, like she was afraid the wrong contact might shatter her.
Nonna’s face usually shar but calm was pulled tight with sothing close to fear. "Katya, tesoro," she murmured. "Look at . Breathe."
Katya didn’t. Her shoulders jerked again, breath coming in short, broken pulls that scraped against my nerves.
Her arms were locked around herself, fingers clenched so tightly the knuckles had gone white.
"Move," I said quietly. Nonna looked up at , surprise flickering across her features. Just for a second. Then she shifted back without argunt, giving space.
I crouched in front of Katya, lowering myself to her level. The marble was cold beneath my palm as I braced myself, grounding.
"Katya." I kept my voice even. Steady. Commanding without pressure. "Look at ."
Her head shook faintly. "No. No, no." Her breath stuttered again, chest heaving like it was fighting her instead of working with her.
Seeing her like this again made mad and worried, sothing must had triggered her to go into panic mode and I’m scared to even think of it was our talk earlier about her phone.
"Katya," I said, slower now. Her fingers twitched, nails biting harder into her sleeves.
Nonna shifted behind . "She’s having a..."
"I know," I cut in softly, without looking back.
I adjusted my stance, close enough now that she could feel my presence without touching her yet.
That mattered. Too sudden, and she’d retreat further inside herself. "Katya," I said again, lower. "You’re here. Third floor. My house."
Her breathing hitched.
"Count with ," I continued. "In through your nose. Slow." I inhaled deliberately, letting the sound carry. Exaggerated. Controlled.
She didn’t follow.
Fine. I tried again. "Out through your mouth." Still nothing.
My jaw tightened, not in anger, but in sothing sharper. Helplessness. A sensation I despised.
I reached out then, carefully, placing two fingers against her wrist where it pressed to her side. Light pressure. Anchoring.
Her pulse was wild beneath my touch. Too fast. Too frantic. "I didn’t....I... didn’t kill her." The words slipping out of Katya made freeze.
The words didn’t register all at once.
I didn’t... I didn’t kill her.
My mind stalled, gears grinding against each other. Her.
Who?
My first instinct was to ask but I didn’t. Questions would fracture her further, push her deeper into whatever spiral she’d fallen into.
So I stayed still, fingers firm but light against her wrist, letting the rhythm of her pulse tell what her mouth couldn’t.
This wasn’t guilt. This was terror. Relief slid in quietly, unwelco but undeniable. If she was saying that—if this was what was clawing its way out of her—then it hadn’t been taking the phone.
Good. The relief lasted less than a second. Because if it wasn’t that... then what the hell was it?
Her breathing fractured again, a sharp inhale that caught halfway and turned into a sound too close to a sob.
Her grip tightened around herself like she was afraid she’d co apart if she loosened even a little.
My mind ran through possibilities with brutal speed. Had soone died?
Recently?
Just now?
Had she seen sothing? Done sothing?
Or was this older—sothing buried, dragged back to the surface by sothing said, sothing implied?
"I know," I said quietly, even though I didn’t. Not really. "You didn’t."
The words weren’t reassurance. They were grounding. A statent. Sothing solid she could lean against.
Her head shook again, sharper this ti. "They... they said...." Her voice broke completely, the rest swallowed by a ragged breath.
They. That narrowed it. I glanced up briefly. The corridor was empty. No raised voices. No alarm.
No sign that anything had happened on this floor in the last few minutes. If there’d been blood, if soone had dropped, I would’ve known already.
Which ant this wasn’t now, or at least soone didn’t die now but soone said sothing to her.
That realization tightened my chest instead of loosening it. I shifted closer, not touching more than I already was, but enough that my presence was unavoidable. "Katya," I said firmly. "Listen to ."
Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, but they opened a fraction. "Nothing is happening right now," I continued. "No one here is hurt. You’re safe."
Her breath hitched again at the word safe, like it didn’t quite belong anywhere near her.
I adjusted my grip on her wrist, thumb pressing once, deliberately, against her pulse. "Stay with . Just this mont. You don’t need to explain anything yet."
Nonna’s chair creaked softly behind . I didn’t turn. "Breathe," I said again, slower, deeper this ti. "With ."
I inhaled. Held it. Exhaled. Once. Twice.
On the third, her chest finally stuttered into a shallow imitation of the rhythm. It wasn’t right, not yet—but it was sothing.
Good.
But my mind didn’t stop working.
I didn’t kill her.
That wasn’t a phrase people invented in the middle of a panic attack.
It was a mory forcing its way out. And whatever—or whoever—she was talking about, it was close enough to the surface to break her.
Her breathing didn’t smooth out all at once but it slowed. The sharp, panicked gasps softened into uneven pulls of air, still shallow, still fragile but no longer fighting her chest like it wanted out.
The tremor in her shoulders eased by degrees, like a storm losing strength instead of vanishing. I noticed everything. The way her pulse under my fingers stopped racing blindly and began to stumble into sothing closer to rhythm.
The way her grip on herself loosened just enough that her knuckles lost so of their white.
"That’s it," I said quietly. "Good." The word wasn’t praise. It was confirmation. Sothing solid.
She swallowed, throat working, eyes still unfocused but no longer completely gone. That was enough to try the next step.
"Stay with ," I said. Her brow furrowed faintly, confusion flickering across her face, but she didn’t pull away.
"Tell three things you can see," I continued evenly. "Anything."
Silence. Her gaze drifted past , through , like she was looking at sothing I couldn’t see at all.
"That’s fine," I said after a beat. No pressure. "Then tell two things you can feel. The floor. The wall. My hand."
Nothing.
Her lips parted, but no sound ca out. Her breathing wavered again, not spiking—just uncertain, like she was afraid to try.
I adjusted my tone, lower, steadier. "One thing you can touch. Anything at all."
Still nothing. Her eyes glassed slightly, focus slipping again, not back into panic but into that blank, distant place I didn’t like at all.
Behind , Nonna shifted. "Katya, amore," she said gently. "Can you feel Nonna’s voice? Can you hear ?"
Katya’s lashes fluttered. "I want to leave."
††
Roo is finally having his emotions checked and now Katya wants to leave, well well well lmao
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