“Thanks for pointing out the goddamn fucking obvious,” Blake spat. “Why don’t you point out how fucking stupid I was to let her come here today too, while you’re at it?”

“Blake—”

“Shut up, Luke. Just shut the fuck up.” Blake ran a hand through his hair and held it there. His scalp was splintering with pain. His chest was tight. Kara couldn’t die. Why the hell had he let her come today? Why? Why? Why? He was coming unglued at the seams. He leaned on the wall, fighting the adrenaline of fear and failing. He punched the wall and welcome pain radiated up his arm. Luke shouted something at him but he tuned it out. He was already throwing another fist. His knuckles hit steel and there was more pain, but it wasn’t enough to stop the image of Whitney bleeding out from the throat, or how her faced morphed into Kara’s. Kara. He was going to lose Kara, too. He reared back to hit the wall again and Luke grabbed his arm. Blake whirled on him and shoved him but Luke grabbed handfuls of his shirt.

“Blake, damn it,” Luke ground out. “Stop. Stop now.”

“If it were your wife, would you stop? Would you fucking stop, Luke?”

“You can’t save her if your hand is broken and you’re climbing out of your own skin. Get a grip, Blake. Get a fucking grip now.”

Blake sucked in a deep breath and let it out, and he suddenly became aware of his shaking. Jesus. He was shaking all over. He was out of control.  He inhaled, and slowly, somehow, pulled himself back from the edge. Luke seemed to realize it, loosening his hold on Blake’s shirt and letting it fall away.

Blake turned away from his brother and lifted the lid to a locker sitting beside the tech setup, pulling out a shoulder holster and two Glocks. The cold steel didn’t come close to matching the ice in his veins. He should have killed Alvarez when he had the chance. He was taking Kara back and making sure that bastard never took another breath.

***

Kara blinked awake to the sound of soft music playing and intense throbbing in her head. For a moment, she couldn’t remember what had happened, but a rush of memories filled her mind. She sat up and blinked and then blinked again. She had to be dreaming, because not only did she appear to be in a sitting area of an office with a fireplace crackling in a full orange glow to her right, but her sister was sitting across from her. And, impossibly, Myla didn’t look bruised and beaten. She looked perfectly fine. She was also sitting next to Alvarez, smiling up at him, her hand resting on his leg.

“Myla?” Kara whispered.