Page 7 of Serena (Shattered Queens #1)

Ican’t breathe; I need air. Respira. My hands are sweating, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode from how hard it’s beating.

It’s overwhelming. My panic’s mixed with anger, shock, and more anger.

It’s swallowing me whole; I can’t control my breathing.

I’m trying to catch my breath but can’t, so I slowly start to count: uno, dos, tres, cuatro, until I get to ten.

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I can’t lose my shit, not here.

Not in front of everyone. A couple of minutes ago, I was talking to Yuri, and now I'm losing my shit on the balcony at a work party.

When I saw him, I thought I was imagining the person in front of me, but why would I imagine him here, out of all places?

I hardly recognized him; it wasn't until Yuri looked and gasped that I realized it was real. After all this time, after years of not a single word, after everything that happened. He’s just here, appearing out of thin air.

What is he doing here? Why here? Why now?

I didn’t stick around. I needed to get out of there.

In shock, I looked around for the nearest exit.

Walking through the halls, I stumbled on double doors that led to the balcony.

I felt like I was being suffocated, but I managed to open the doors, taking in a deep breath of fresh air.

I wonder if I screamed, would anyone hear me?

The music's loud enough. I wish I could throw something—anything.

I take a couple of breaths and close my eyes, trying to let the anger subside, but it won’t.

It’s there; it's always there. I have to pull myself together. This is not the time nor the place to do it. “Calmate, Serena,” I repeat again, hoping it will finally sink in, but I can’t calm down.

I stare at the sky and start counting stars, trying to distract myself.

Instead, I just find myself thinking about that night.

I lift my hand and place it on the left side of my neck.

With my hair draped to the side, the scar is covered.

It’s right behind my ear and about two inches down toward my neckline—I feel it.

I always feel it, the phantom pain. Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I blink them away.

Not here, not today, not for him, not for anyone else. I made that promise a long time ago.

There’s a prickle at the back of my neck. I can't help but feel like someone is watching me. I look around but don't see anyone. Now I’m being paranoid; it wouldn’t be the first time. No one is on the balcony but me, but I can’t shake the feeling.

I hear the double doors open behind me, and I jump at the sudden movement.

I swiftly turn on my heels, and there he is, his blond hair combed perfectly, his blue eyes staring at me in that dark-gray tailored suit.

He was attractive before, but now, after years of not seeing him, I’m reminded of how much I wanted those blue eyes to pay attention to me, why girls threw themselves at him, Byran.

Without speaking, he walks toward me and stops.

He’s a couple of feet away from me. I can hear my heartbeat, not because I want to run to him and hug him or tell him it's great that he’s here.

No, none of those things. It’s my anger, the reminder of everything.

I know masking my emotions is something that I’ve gotten good at, and so is keeping people at arm's length. The reason for that is standing right in front of me. He’s always possessed the inability to read the fucking room, like this moment, when he decides to cross the threshold toward me.

“ Ser—” My name doesn’t make it out of his mouth.

I swing my right fist, and it makes contact with the left side of his face.

I’m about to do the same with my left when he grabs my hand, but my fury overtakes me, and I knee him in the balls.

He didn’t see that coming. He falls to his knees as I just stand there.

Looking at my handy work, I smile. It’s my first genuine smile of the night.

A man's voice catches my attention. “Is everything okay out here?” I don't acknowledge him at first. Byran, still on the ground and on his knees, turns and looks back at the man standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. I finally turn and look.

The moonlight gives me a glimpse of his features.

He’s so tall, broad shoulders, fitted black suit, but his eyes.

When he leans forward, the moonlight captures his green eyes.

This man exudes power. Also, is he smiling?

The glistening of his white teeth peeks through the darkness, and I see his dimples.

His smile is beautiful and wicked, but at this moment, the thought of him laughing infuriates me more.

“Everything’s fine. He just fell and is trying to get back up, but I can’t help.

I have a bad leg and all.” Bad leg? What the hell is that?

That’s bullshit, and we both know it. The man looks down at Byran, who is trying to catch his breath, then back at me.

He doesn’t bother to ask any questions, just stands there and stares.

His eyes are fixed on me, and for some reason, I can’t seem to look away.

Did he see anything? Well, if he did, he got a show.

I glance at Byran and start walking toward the doors.

There is no fucking way I’m helping that asshole.

The man is just standing there like a statue, not bothering to move.

As I walk past him, I get a better view of him, and damn, is he handsome.

There’s also something that passes between us; I shrug off the feeling and make my way back into the party.

I need to find my friend and get out of here.