Page 17 of Discordant Cultivation

Kieran tried to move past him toward the kitchen exit, but Vale’s hand caught his wrist—not violently, but too firmly, just on the edge of painful.

“Let go.”

“Where are you going to go?” Vale asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “The nearest neighbor is four miles away. The nearest town is twenty minutes away by car. You don’t even know what direction the road is.”

Kieran tried to pull his wrist free, but Vale’s grip was immovable. “I’ll f-figure it out.”

“In pajamas? In an unfamiliar area where you could have another episode and no one would find you for hours?” Vale’sother hand came up to rest against Kieran’s chest, palm flat over his racing heart. “That’s not a plan. That’s suicide.”

Kieran grabbed Vale’s wrist with his free hand, trying to pull it away from his chest. “Don’t t-touch me.”

“Your heart rate is dangerously high.” Vale’s clinical tone made it worse somehow, like Kieran’s body was just data to be collected.

“B-because you won’t let me g-go!”

“Because you’re not accepting reality.” Vale’s grip on his wrist tightened. “Fighting me isn’t going to change your situation. It’s only going to make you sick.”

Kieran shoved at Vale’s chest, putting all his weight behind it. Vale didn’t even budge.

“Get off me!”

“Kieran.” Vale’s voice dropped to something dangerous. “You need to calm down.”

“F-fuck you.”

Vale’s expression shifted, and something almost fond flickering across his features. “There you are. I was wondering when I’d see the real you instead of the apologetic version you show strangers.”

“Let. Me. Go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Kieran twisted in Vale’s grip, trying to break free, but Vale caught both his wrists in one hand and spun him around. Before Kieran could process what was happening, his chest was pressed against the kitchen counter, arms pinned behind his back, Vale’s body a solid wall pressing down on him, preventing escape.

“Stop fighting me,” Vale murmured against his ear.

Kieran tried to kick backward, but Vale shifted his weight, using his hip to pin Kieran more completely against the granite. The edge dug into Kieran’s stomach.

“G-get off—”

Vale’s free hand came up to wrap around Kieran’s throat. Not choking, not yet, just resting there. Kieran went absolutely still.

“That’s better,” Vale said softly. “See? You know how to listen when you want to.”

Kieran’s pulse hammered against Vale’s palm, betraying every ounce of terror he was trying to hide. “Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Vale’s fingers pressed slightly, just enough to make Kieran aware of how easily he could restrict airflow. “I’m helping you calm down.”

“It’s not—that’s n-not—” Kieran couldn’t get enough air to finish the sentence, couldn’t think past the pressure on his throat and the weight of Vale against him.

“Shhh.” Vale’s breath warmed his ear. “Your body is telling you to panic, but your mind knows better. Focus on slowing your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

The pressure on Kieran’s throat increased, and his vision started to swim with dark spots. Not dangerous yet, not cutting off blood flow completely, but enough to make everything feel distant and strange.

Can’t breathe properly, can’t think, can’t—

“There you go,” Vale murmured. “Feel how much calmer you’re getting?”

And the worst part was, he was right. Kieran’s body was responding to the restricted blood flow by slowing down, panic giving way to something floaty and disconnected. His muscles relaxed despite his mind screaming at them to fight.