Queen of Steel: Throne of Lies

Chapter 11

I woke up abruptly, struggling to breathe as if someone's hands were wrapped around my throat. My heart raced, each breath feeling like fire in my throat. Drenched in sweat, my body shook uncontrollably with sobs.

It had been five days since the attack at the psych wing in Hopevale, yet the nightmares persisted, refusing to release their grip on me. Trapped in my own mind, I relived the horror over and over.

The memory of her vacant, crazed eyes haunted me, sending shivers down my spine, along with the sensation of her hands tightening around my neck. I thought I'd never breathe again.

Curled in bed, I hugged my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to ground myself in the present.

I felt small and lost, nothing like the strong, confident woman I was expected to be. The facade of control I had meticulously crafted had crumbled, leaving me exposed, unable to shake off the fear that gripped me.

The shame this event had brought upon me silenced me, even when Tessa and Tammy had insisted I tell them if I was okay. I had just blamed the workload and the forced engagement.

I was supposed to be a Steelman—carved from granite and utterly unflappable, not some quivering damsel crumbling under duress. My father's scathing voice echoed in my mind, withering in its contempt for such pathetic fragility unbecoming of my lineage.

Yet I curled tighter into myself, powerless against the torrent of memories and emotions threatening to engulf me completely.

Then, in the depths of my despair, his image invaded my thoughts. Professor Hahn, with his protective embrace and penetrating gaze, offering me a lifeline in the storm of my nightmares.

His touch, his gaze—they had anchored me back to reality when everything else seemed lost. Regardless of how much I tried to dismiss it, there was no denying the magnetic pull I felt towards him, the way my pulse quickened at the mere recollection of his masculine scent of dark coffee and musty wood.

It was humiliating to admit, but in that moment, I had felt safe. Secure in his arms, I had allowed myself to be vulnerable, to relinquish control and find comfort in his strength.

The way he could unravel me with a single glance, igniting a firestorm of emotions I couldn't understand or control, was simply enticing. I felt pathetic admitting it, but I had wished his hands would just...wander...off...

I shook my head, banishing the lascivious thought.

THE MADNESS!

This obsession with Hahn was pure madness, a distraction I couldn't afford.

He was an unwelcome intrusion into my carefully curated world, yes, an intrusion—a nosy, fashionless, pompous, coffee-addicted quack, not some desirable object worthy of misguided girlish infatuation.

With a frustrated groan, I collapsed back against the pillows, scrubbing my hands over my face in a futile attempt to regain composure. But try as I might to push him from my thoughts, he lingered, his presence a constant reminder of my vulnerability.

As I settled back under the covers, determined to determined to banish the night's terrors, a text from Allistair suddenly lit up my phone screen.

'Hey beautiful! Still awake?'

It was a welcome distraction, yes, but also a chance to reconnect with the one person who never failed to lift my spirits, even in my darkest moments.

'Yeah, can't seem to shut my brain off ' I replied quickly, grateful for the opportune intervention. 'Just another restless night.'