Elliot's chest was rising and falling too fast. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. His eyes were wild, darting around the kitchen like the walls were closing in.
"Shit," he whispered. "Shit, shit." His hands were trembling. "I don't know what to do."
"Elliot," Eliana said, her voice barely steady. She stepped closer and took his face in her hands. "Breathe. Look at me. Breathe."
He tried, pulling in air through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, but his chest still heaved. His skin was pale, damp with sweat.
"Where can we go?" she asked, eyes searching his.
He swallowed, forcing his thoughts into order. His gaze swept the kitchen, the windows, the door. His breathing slowed a little, though it still shook in his throat. "There's nowhere," he muttered. "Not without setting something off."
Then something changed in his eyes. A flicker of determination cut through the panic.
