Page 26 of Red Fury

His phone rings, and he lunges for it. “This better be good news,” he barks into the device. “What do you mean, thirty minutes? Thirty minutes?” His voice rises. “I don’t have thirty minutes to waste sitting in a broken elevator! It’s unacceptable. I insist you do something. Do it now!”

My dragon responds to his agitation, and I feel her pushing again. Thirty minutes. I can’t last thirty minutes in here. The space feels like it’s shrinking with each passing second. It feels like the air is getting thin. That can’t be right. Surely, it’s just my panic taking hold? It has to be. I need to get a grip.

“Sir,” Fury says in an even tone, “I understand your frustration, but getting agitated won’t help the situation. The technical team is working as fast as they can.”

Harrison glares at him but doesn’t argue. He ends his call with a frustrated grunt and leans against the elevator wall. Sweat beads on his brow. He loosens his tie with a sharp movement.

“This day just keeps getting better,” Deveraux mutters.

That’s when the lights start flickering again in rapid, strobing flashes that make my head spin. Someone – possibly Peterson – lets out a string of curses.

My dragon surges forward with terrifying force. I bite down on my lip hard enough to almost draw blood, using the pain to focus. But it’s not enough. I can feel my control slipping away.

Oh god!

Oh god!

Fury must sense my distress because he subtly moves closer to me, his broad shoulder brushing against mine. The contact is minimal, barely noticeable to anyone else, but it’s enough to remind me that I’m not alone.

He’s here.

I’m fine.

We’re fine.

I can do this.

“Easy,” he murmurs under his breath, so quietly that only I can hear. “You’ve got this.”

But do I? My dragon is clawing at my skin with increasing desperation. If I had shifted last night like he suggested, maybe I’d have better control right now. Maybe I wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of a disaster that could expose both of us and get everyone in this elevator killed.

The lights go out completely again, and this time the darkness seems to press in from all sides. I hear Deveraux’s breathing becoming rapid and shallow. It’s almost as bad as mine. He’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. If he loses it, I will too.

Fury turns his flashlight on again. Then his hand finds mine. His grip is once again firm and steady, grounding me when everything else feels like it’s spinning out of control. I focus on the warmth of his skin, the calluses on his palm, the way his thumb traces small circles across my knuckles.

My dragon settles marginally, though she’s still more agitated than I would like.

“How much longer?” Thompson asks, his voice tight.

“They’re working on it,” Fury replies, and he checks his phone again. “Won’t be much longer now.”

“This is ridiculous.” Harrison pushes out.

“It won’t be long, sir,” Fury tells him in a hard but respectful tone.

I hope he’s right because I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on. Every fiber of my being is screaming to shift, to break free from this metal prison. It’s taking everything I have to keep my beast contained. I feel sweat drip between my breasts and down my back.

The lights flicker once more in weak, unstable beams that cast shadows on our faces. Then, just when I think I can’t take another second, there’s a mechanical grinding sound and the elevator lurches back to life.

Fury lets my hand go.

We all hold our breath as the car begins moving upward, slow and steady. When the doors finally slide open with their familiar chime, I’ve never been so happy to see the marble floors of the UN building.

“Thank god,” Deveraux breathes, practically stumbling out of the elevator.

“Well, that was an adventure,” Harrison says, straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair. Despite his earlier panic, he’s back to his composed, authoritative self. “Nothing like a little excitement to get the blood flowing, eh?”

Thompson and Peterson both laugh, the tension bleeding out of them now that we’re on solid ground.