At The Docks
702 Words
The car peeled out of the driveway.
Tires screamed against wet pavement.
Damian didn’t speak.
Knuckles white around the steering wheel.
The city lights bled past the windows in red and gold streaks.
"Dad," I whispered.
My throat closed around his name.
Damian’s jaw ticked.
He still didn’t look at me.
His grip tightened until the leather creaked.
Ten minutes of silence.
Fifteen.
The only sound was the engine and my heartbeat.
He stopped at a red light.
Reached over.
Popped the glovebox.
A gun.
Matte black.
Deadly quiet.
He checked it once.
Slid it into the waistband of his pants, under his tailored jacket.
No words.
No warning.
My blood turned to ice.
But he didn’t say anything.
He just pulled away when the light turned green.
Twenty minutes later, the world went silent.
The docks.
Fog curled over the water.
The only sounds were waves hitting wood and the distant groan of ships.
Four men.
Circled around a single metal chair.
And in that chair—
Dad.
His head hung forward.
Dark blood soaked through his white shirt, dripping onto the dock beneath him.
"Dad!"
The word tore out of me.
Damian slammed the car into park.
"Stay inside," he ordered. Low. Deadly.
"Lock the doors."
He got out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I pressed my forehead to the cold glass.
Watched.
The men turned.
Guns glinted in their hands.
"Took you long enough, Voss," the one in front said.
Scar split his cheek.
He kicked the chair.
Dad made a sound.
A broken groan that shattered me.
"Let him go," Damian said.
Calm.
Too calm.
Scar-face grinned.
"You gonna negotiate?"
Damian didn’t answer.
A shot cracked through the night.
Scar-face dropped.
Just like that.
Chaos erupted.
The other three raised their weapons.
More shots.
I screamed and ducked.
But Damian moved like smoke.
Fast.
Precise.
Three more men fell.
Damian holstered his gun.
Started toward Dad to untie him.
And then I saw it.
One of the men.
Gun raised.
Aimed right at Damian’s back.
The world went silent.
"No!"
I threw the door open.
"Damian!"
He spun at my voice.
Eyes wide.
"Get down!"
But I was already running.
Without thinking.
Without breathing.
I was going to take it for him.
I wasn’t fast enough.
Damian moved.
Arms locked around my waist.
He spun us.
And took the bullet in his shoulder.
A wet thud.
Heat bloomed across my chest.
We hit the ground hard.
Him over me.
Shielding me with his body.
The last shot rang out.
Damian fired one-handed.
The man collapsed.
Silence again.
Broken only by my sobbing.
"Are you hit?"
Damian’s voice was rough.
His hands frantic on my face, checking me.
I shook my head.
Tears blurred everything.
"It’s you.
You’re bleeding—"
"Get up."
He pulled me to my feet, arm around my waist.
Blood was already soaking through his shirt, warm and spreading.
He took two steps toward Dad, reached for the ropes—
And his knees buckled.
He went down hard.
"Damian!"
I dropped with him.
"Damian, stay with me," I begged.
"Please stay with me."
"Don’t cry for me, Lina."
My name.
Soft.
Whispered like he was afraid it would break.
The first time he’d ever said it like that.
Not a command.
Not possessive.
Just... Lina.
The air caught in my throat.
"Stay awake," I cried, pressing both hands to his wound.
"Don’t you dare close your eyes."
He opened them.
Dark and glassy.
Found mine.
"Always," he murmured.
Then his phone rang.
Sharp in the quiet.
Neither of us moved.
It rang again.
I picked it up with shaking hands.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
"Hello?"
A pause.
Then that voice.
Sweet.
Poison.
"Damian?"
Elise.
I said nothing.
She laughed.
Low.
"I saw you.
At the docks.
With your new charity case."
Ice ran down my spine.
"I told your mom," she sang.
"She’s going to love this.
The great Damian Voss.
Bleeding out for a nobody.
Tell Lina I said hi."
Click.
Dial tone.
I stared at the phone.
Then at Damian.
His eyes were still closed.
But his jaw was tight.
A muscle jumped in his cheek.
And I knew.
This was just the beginning.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD