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ROMIRO

I stand in the kitchen, trying to keep my hands steady as I slice through a loaf of bread. The early morning light filters through the blinds, casting long, pale lines across the counter. Alessia is still asleep in my room, buried under a mound of blankets, her breathing steady but shallow, like she’s trying to hold on to some last bit of comfort. She looks so small there, so fragile, and it twists something deep in my chest, something raw.

I glance at my phone sitting on the counter, Katherine’s number still pulled up on the screen. She’d responded to my message in less than five minutes, a quick reply with her availability. I know I need to speak to her, to figure out how to help Alessia, but the thought of leaving her alone, even for a moment, feels like a betrayal. My thumb hovers over the call button, but I hesitate, my eyes darting back to the bedroom door.

It’s been a long night, and I’ve been watching over her like a damn hawk, listening for every small noise, every change in her breathing. She’s already had three panic attacks in the past few hours, each one hitting like a freight train. I’ve held her through all of them, trying to keep her grounded, whispering reassurances I’m not even sure I believe myself. I know I should reach out for help. Katherine’s the best there is—she knows how to handle this kind of thing. But leaving Alessia… I just can’t do it.

I set the knife down and grab my phone, deciding to call before I can second-guess myself any further. Katherine picks up on the second ring, her voice calm and professional. “Romiro,” she greets, a slight warmth in her tone. “I’m glad you called. Callahan filled me in, and there’s been some whispers floating around.”

Running a palm over my face, I curse under my breath, “Fuck, already?”

“Yes, you know how our world loves drama and gossip. Anyways, I have some time this afternoon if you want to come by,” she tells me.

“I… I don’t think I can leave her,” I admit, running a hand through my hair, feeling the tension pull tight at the back of my neck. “Alessia, she… she panicked when I tried to step out for just a minute. I don’t think she can handle me being gone right now.”

Katherine’s silent for a beat, and I can almost hear her thinking it over. “That’s understandable,” she says finally, her voice gentle but firm. “Can you tell me more about what happened? What led to this?”

I swallow, glancing back at the bedroom door, making sure it’s still closed and that Alessia is still sleeping. “They were… taken,” I say, keeping my voice low, as if speaking too loudly will shatter what little calm remains. “By Helen. She had them in some warehouse by the docks. It was dark and cold. They were all tied up, and she was playing some kind of twisted game. Alessia… she saw a lot. Too much. Then we… we managed to get them out, but not without…” I trail off, the words sticking in my throat.

“Not without trauma,” Katherine finishes for me. “And she’s been having panic attacks since?”

“Yeah,” I admit, feeling a flicker of shame in my chest. “Three in the last few hours. I… I don’t know how to help her. I feel like I’m just making it worse.”

Katherine is quiet for a moment, and then she speaks, her tone gentle but firm. “Panic attacks can be overwhelming, and they often feel like they come out of nowhere, but they’re usually a response to a trigger. Do you know what might have triggered hers?”

I think back, my mind racing over the events of the past day. “I tried to leave the room,” I say slowly. “Just for a moment, to get her some water. And she… she panicked. Like she thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“She’s scared,” Katherine says softly. “She feels unsafe, and she’s looking for the only source of comfort she has right now—you. It’s common in situations like this, where someone has experienced trauma. They cling to what feels familiar, what feels safe.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me, trying to take in what she’s saying. “So what do I do?” I ask, my voice tight with frustration. “I can’t just leave her, but I can’t fix this either. How do I help her?”

Katherine pauses for a moment, and I hear the rustle of papers on her end. “When she starts to panic, you need to help her feel grounded,” she explains. “There are a few techniques that can help with that. One is the five senses technique—ask her to name five things she can see, four things she can touch, three things she can hear, two things she can smell, and one thing she can taste. It helps to bring her back to the present, to remind her that she’s safe, here, now.”

I nod again, feeling a small surge of hope. “Okay, I can try that. What else?”

“Another technique is deep breathing,” Katherine continues. “Panic attacks often come with hyperventilation, which can make the symptoms worse. Encourage her to take slow, deep breaths with you. Count out each breath, in for four, hold for four, out for four. Repeat until she starts to calm down.”

“Got it,” I murmur, trying to commit everything she’s saying to memory. “What about afterward? When it passes?”

“That’s just as important,” Katherine says. “After a panic attack, the body is still on high alert, still full of adrenaline. It’s important to help her calm down, to feel safe again. Talk to her about what happened, but don’t push. Let her lead the conversation, and remind her that she’s not alone, that you’re here for her.”

“Okay,” I say.

Katherine then asks, “I’ll do that. And what about group therapy?”

“Do you think that would help?” I ask her.

“I think it could be beneficial,” Katherine replies. “Especially since the other girls went through the same thing. It might help them to know they’re not alone, that they’re not the only ones feeling this way. But it has to be done in a safe environment, somewhere they feel comfortable.”

“At the Capo’s apartment,” I say immediately. “That’s where it’ll have to be. It’s the only place we can control who comes in and out.”

Katherine seems to consider this for a moment. “That could work,” she agrees. “If they’re comfortable with it. I’d suggest starting with just the three of them—Alessia, Mara, and Valentina. It’s important that they feel like they have some control over the process.”

“Alright,” I say, feeling a little more confident now. “I’ll talk to them, see how they feel about it.”

“And Romiro,” Katherine adds, her voice softening. “Remember, this is a process. It’s not going to be a quick fix. There will be setbacks, and there will be days that feel worse than others. But you’re doing the right thing, reaching out, getting them help. Just… be patient. With them, and with yourself.”

I nod, swallowing past the tightness in my throat. “Thanks, Katherine. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she replies. “Call me anytime, if you need anything else.”

I end the call and lean against the counter, letting out a long sigh. I glance over at the bedroom door again, and my heart clenches at the thought of Alessia waking up alone, finding me gone. I push off the counter and move to the door, opening it quietly. She’s still asleep, her face peaceful for the moment, but I know it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares come back.

I sit on the edge of the bed, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes flutter open, and for a moment, she looks at me with such fear, such vulnerability, that it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

“Hey,” I murmur, keeping my voice soft. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She nods, but her eyes are still wide, still filled with that lingering fear. I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently, and she grips mine like it’s a lifeline. “It’s okay,” I say again, feeling the weight of Katherine’s words settle over me. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

She takes a shaky breath, her grip tightening on mine. “Promise?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“I promise,” I reply, my voice steady. “I’m not leaving you. Not now, not ever.”

I once again feel the flicker of hope, a small, fragile flame burning in the darkness.