His Bullet Bound Me

Chapter 5 - The Second Bullet

The hallway outside the storage room was eerily quiet when Marcus cracked the door open. Aurora peered over his arm, heart hammering all over again. The chaos from the amphitheater had faded into distant echoes—sirens, shouting, the metallic slam of emergency barricades.

Marcus didn’t move for a long moment.

He stood perfectly still, head tilted. Listening.

If Aurora had ever wondered what a predator looked like right before it pounced, she knew now.

“Stay behind me,” he said.

“I figured,” she murmured.

He shot her a look—half warning, half something else she was starting to understand. Something sharp and unwilling to name itself.

He stepped out first. She shadowed him instinctively, which was hilarious because ten minutes ago she’d sworn she would not be the kind of girl who hid behind a man.

But now?

She wasn’t hiding.She was… trusting him.

That was somehow far more dangerous.

They moved through the narrow service hallway, Marcus keeping his body angled so that he took up more space than strictly necessary. His left hand hovered near his gun—not touching, not telegraphing threat, but close enough Aurora could almost feel the tension in the air around it.

Dispatch had already warned there could be two shooter teams: one to take the shot, one to cover a retreat. Every shadow overhead felt like confirmation.

“Your team is really fast,” she whispered.

“They’re good,” he said shortly.

“Not as good as you.”

His step hitched almost imperceptibly. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“Talk like you’re impressed.”

She blinked. “But I am impressed.”

“That’s the problem.”

Before she could ask what he meant, they reached the end of the hallway and emerged into a back loading bay. Two TITAN agents were already sweeping the area.

Or—should have been.

Marcus froze.

Aurora felt the shift like a change in air pressure. One second he was in front of her. The next he shoved her back violently, pinning her between his body and a stack of crates.

“What—Marcus—?!”

“Quiet,” he hissed.

His hand wrapped around the back of her head, pushing her face against his chest. Her nose filled with the scent of gunpowder and clean soap and something purely him. Her pulse thundered.

She didn’t know what he’d seen…

…but then she heard it.

A soft metallic click.

Above them.

Marcus looked up. Aurora followed, breath catching.

A figure on the metal catwalk.Rifle.Scope.Aiming straight down.

“Oh my God—Marcus—”

“I see him.”

The rifle’s laser sight flashed.

Red.

Right on her shoulder.

“No—no—” Aurora choked out.

Marcus didn’t hesitate. Not for a breath. Not for a single heartbeat.

He spun, grabbed her waist, and threw her across the concrete floor just as—

BANG.

The world exploded.

Aurora hit the ground hard, palms skidding. Pain shot up her wrists—but she was alive.

Alive.

And Marcus—

“Marcus!”

He didn’t fall.

He stormed forward.

He didn’t check himself for wounds. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t look back.

He simply drew his gun in a blur of motion and fired upward—one, two, three, four shots.

Every shot a kill shot.

Aurora watched, stunned and horrified and weirdly breathless, as the sniper collapsed over the railing and hit the concrete with a brutal thud.

Marcus lowered his weapon.

Finally, he exhaled.

And only then did Aurora see it.

Blood.

Dark red.Blooming.Slowly spreading across the back of his suit jacket.

She scrambled to her feet. “Marcus—Marcus, you’re hit—”

He turned toward her, jaw clenched so hard a vein stood out in his neck. “It’s nothing.”

Up close, his skin was already going white, sweat beading along his hairline, but he held himself like stone.

“Nothing?!” She reached for him. “You were shot—”

“I said it’s nothing.” He caught her wrist before she could touch the wound. His grip was firm but not painful. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine—you, however—”

“I wasn’t asking about me.”

Frustration and fear tangled in her throat. “You need to let someone look at it—”

“You need to get in the SUV,” he said, stepping closer, herded her backward with sheer presence. “My job is to make sure you leave here alive.”

“And what if you don’t?” she snapped, her voice cracking.

His jaw flexed. “Then I didn’t do my job.”

“That’s not an answer!”

“It’s the only one that matters.”

“No!” She planted both hands on his chest. Warm. Solid. Shaking. “Your life matters. You matter. Don’t act like you’re just—just some shield I’m allowed to use up!”

Something flickered in his eyes—shock, maybe. Or anger. Or pain. Or all three.

Then—

He stepped even closer.

So close she felt his breath against her mouth.

“Aurora.”

Her name was a warning.A plea.A breaking point.

“You can yell at me later,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Right now, you need to move.”

“I’m not leaving you!”

His hand lifted—hesitated—then cupped the side of her face.

The world tilted.

“You already did,” he murmured.

Her lips parted. “What?”

“You left me the moment you became a target.” His forehead leaned toward hers, stopping just short of touching. “Now everything I do is about you.”

Her heartbeat stuttered.

Then roared.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t understand how she had gone from standing on a stage to standing here, inches from a man who made the whole world shake.

“Marcus…” she whispered.

His thumb brushed her cheekbone. A slow, devastatingly gentle sweep.

“Come with me,” he said. “Let me get you safe.”

Before she could respond, two TITAN agents sprinted into the bay.

“Cross! SUV is ready—medics inbound—”

Marcus didn’t look away from her.

“Move,” he said softly.

Not a command.

A plea wrapped in steel.

Aurora swallowed hard, nodded once, and let him guide her. His hand didn’t leave the small of her back the entire way, even though she could hear his breathing was off, strained around the edges.

Every step left flecks of blood on the concrete.

His blood.

She climbed into the SUV. Turned immediately. Reached for him.

And watched him sway.

Just a fraction.

But enough.

“Marcus—”

He caught the doorframe, steadied himself, jaw locked to hide the tremor running through his body.

“I told you,” he rasped, “it’s nothing.”

Then he climbed in beside her and slammed the door.

Marcus dropped into the seat and the door hadn’t even fully shut before his left hand clamped hard over the back of his right shoulder. The colour drained from his face so fast she felt it like a physical drop in temperature. “Marcus—?” “I’m fine,” he gritted out, but the words came out wet. His head sagged forward a fraction before he caught himself, spine snapping straight again through sheer spite. Aurora saw the tremor race through his arm, saw the way his pupils blew wide—classic blood-loss shock. “Cole,” she said, voice suddenly razor-sharp, “stop the car.” “Negative,” Cole replied instantly. “We’re still hot—” “Then pull into the next underground garage and kill the lights.” She was already unbuckling, crawling across the seat. “He’s going into shock.” Marcus tried to wave her off, but his hand barely lifted. “Don’t—” “Shut up.” She yanked open the med kit bolted under the seat, fingers shaking as she ripped open a pressure bandage. “You’re not allowed to pass out on me, you hear me? Not after you made all those pretty promises.” His laugh came out a rasp. “Bossy when you’re scared.” “Terrified,” she corrected, and shoved his jacket off his shoulder hard enough to make him hiss. The exit wound was ugly, blood still pulsing in time with his heartbeat. “Now hold still, hero. Let me keep you alive for once.”

As the SUV peeled away from the campus, Aurora stared at him, heart lodged somewhere in her throat.

Every breath she took—every mile between them and danger—made one truth louder:

He didn’t just stop the second bullet.

He would stop every threat.

Every time.

Even if it killed him.

And that terrified her far more than the sniper ever could.