Panic constricts around my chest like a snake—a snake who really needs to read the vibe of the room. Is now a time to be worried about small spaces or should I instead be worried about the psychopath holding me captive who wants to torture and murder me for revenge? I think the answer to that is obvious. And yet I have to take deep breaths to stave off my oldest, most annoying friend: claustrophobia.
When I close my eyes, I’m right back in the dream. I can still see Mikhail standing in the door of my cell. I can feel the way his icy blue eyes scraped over me, assessing me for injuries even as he held himself back. I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him. Despite everything, the pull between us was still there.
Or, I dreamt it was there, anyway…
I shake my head and rub my fists
