Chapter 002 Dangerous Games and Hidden Agendas
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Chapter 002
Dangerous Games and Hidden Agendas
Brittany’s POV
I hardly slept at all. The words of the message still resonate in my brain. By daylight, I had run every conceivable scenario in my thoughts, and none of them worked out. I debated whether Cross was protection against whatever storm was approaching or the cause itself. All I knew was that I felt overwhelmed.
That morning, the diner felt even more confined. Dish clatter and endless orders were a constant source of noise, causing my heart to pound. Half expecting Cross to step in once more, I kept checking the door. He didn't, though. It wasn't until the lunch rush that his presence made every part of me rigid and filled the entrance.
He moved as though he owned the house, which, for all I knew, he did now. All heads turned, yet Cross's gaze remained fixed solely on me. Though I wanted to run, I stayed on target. I had to go approach him when he was seated in my area.
"You're back," I murmured, sounding icy. "How lovely."
His lips closed. You seem to be describing a crime.
Given yesterday night, "it could be."
Oh, absolutely. He leaned back, never averting his gaze from me. "Did you have fun with it?"
I bit back the response right on my tongue. "What do you want, Cross?"
"Isn't it obvious?” He inclined his head, laughter flaring in his eyes. "Black Coffee, Black."
More forcefully than required, I drew on my pad and turned to go; his hand sprang out and encircled my wrist. I froze, my breathing seized. His contact burned me, a nasty reminder of just how lethal this man was.
I sneered, "Let go."
"Not until we are clear," he said gently. You and I ought to discuss.
"There is nothing to talk about." My wrist pulled free, the motion more sudden than I had meant. You made your intentions quite apparent.
"Did I??" He slanted forward, his voice lowering. Perhaps all you heard was what you wanted to hear.
"What is this, Cross?" I insisted—a furious surge of demand. "A game gone twisted? There are some sick power plays? I do not represent your pawn.
"You are not." The admission came out of nowhere. You are less free than you believe, though.
My chest contracted. "What does that even mean?"
"You have to grasp the stakes," he added, his eyes tightening. Not just one person is observing you.
My heart stopped. "Who else?" asked
His tone was hardening. "People are far more dangerous than you realize," he said. "This is not just about me, Brittany."
Between us, the words hung, weighty and stifling. Despite the packed diner and everyone's attention, I felt compelled to delve deeper. I diverted my attention, focusing on grabbing his coffee. But when I returned, I wasn't alone.
By Cross's table stood a man I did not know; his posture was rigid and his eyes were icy. He was tall, with dark hair and a scar across his jawline, suggesting that he was not unfamiliar with violence.
"Cross," the man replied, his voice quiet but precise. We must talk.
"Not here," Cross said, his voice business-like. "Sit.."
"No." The man looked at me, and something black passed across his face. "It's crucial."
Cross's eyes squeezed narrows. "Then make it brief."
The conflict buzzed. Even though my legs were immobilized, I desperately wanted to flee as far away as possible. Like the instant before a storm, the air seemed charged. Whatever was happening, it had a negative vibe, and I found myself right at the center of it.
"Word's out," the man continued, his voice lowering still more. "The girl's a target."
Ice slithered my back. I didn't need to discover which female he was targeting.
"Is that so?" Cross's voice was deathly quiet, but his eyes gleamed with something terrible. And who set the mark on her?
"That's what we're trying to sort out," the man said. "You were aware of this happening."
Cross stood suddenly, his chair dragging across the floor. leave.
The man hesitated, then nodded once and left, his motions deliberate and quick. With a knotted stomach, I observed him.
"What the hell was that?" I persisted, barely able to keep my voice steady.
Cross turned to me, his face insensible. You must come to trust me.
"trust you?" I laughed; the sound was unpleasant. You are out of your mind.
"Maybe," says . He stepped forward, his voice hushed and urgent. But only I can keep you alive.
"alive?" I repeated it with a smack of the word. "This is ludicrous. For what reason am I a target? Not what you are telling me?
"More than you are ready to hear," he said. However, understand that my actions were solely to protect you.
I gave my head a shake. "Shield me?"You grabbed Cross, me. You lied and manipulated—that is,"
Indeed, he said, his voice unvarnished. “I did. And if it kept you out of their grasp, I would do it once more.
"Who are they?” I insisted, yearning for solutions.
His eyes flaming: "people who don't forgive, who don't forget," he added. Those my family used to cross.
"And now I'm caught in the middle," I said, the weight of it all collapsing down.
Indeed, he responded, his voice softening. But I refuse to let them touch you.
His words, the fire in his eyes, disturbed me. Their intensity There were moments when I struggled to trust him. I detested that component.
My voice is faltering. "I don't need your protection," I said. "I can keep myself under control."
"This isn't something you can fight alone," he said, approaching closely. You despise me, as I know. Not one of me blames you. Right now, though, your best chance of survival is here.
"Why ought I to believe you?" Every syllable brimmed with defiance, I asked myself.
His voice low and threatening, he added, "Because if I wanted you dead, you would be."
His comments chilled me, but I resisted letting him see my anxiety. Good to know.
Brittany. I stepped back when he reached for me. "You are under no obligation to like me." You are free to dislike me as much as you like. But you need me.
"Is that so?." I raised my chin, not backtracking. And what, Cross, do you need?
His mask momentarily fell away, revealing something fragile and raw. You. Safe.
Before I could respond, the window shattered, causing the glass to explode inward. I instinctively hid my head on the floor. The cafe echoed shouts and screams, but all I could hear was my own rapid breathing.
Cross was right next to me, his body protecting mine. He told them to "stay down."
"What's happening?" I gasped while my head whirled.
"An invitation," he answered with a grimace. One I intend to turn down.
He drew me to my feet with a powerful but light hold. "We have to depart. Right now.
I nodded, too surprised to argue. The air was thick with anxiety as we staggered out the back. Although my mind was filled with questions, I had no time to respond. Not yet.
Cross turned to face me as we arrived at the alley, his eyes ablaze with will. Right now, you are here. Either they want to be or not.
My voice quivering, I shot back, "I didn't ask for this."
No, he answered. But we still have to do it.
The sound of approaching feet bounced off the walls. Cross tensely placed me behind him. "Stay close."
The shadows moved, and I sensed the gleam of a sword. Though I forced myself to breathe, panic shot in. Cross did not change. He had come ready for this. I wasn't.
A voice emerged from the shadow, "Time's up, Donovan." "Hand over the gal."
Cross's jaw tightened. "Across my dead body."
"That is possible."
The man entered the light, his rifle raised. Cross knocked me off the road just as the shot fired, moving faster than I could have imagined.
My side exploded in pain, and the planet darkened.
I was unsure whether I was still alive, whether Cross was still fighting, or if he had also fallen. I knew that nothing would remain the same. I also knew that my survival would come with a price.
- Writer
