Chapter 004 Secrets and Scars
1178 Words
Chapter 004
Secrets and Scars
Brittany’s POV
The first thing I experienced was the acute, relentless agony on my side. My eyes opened, and I squinted from the strong fluorescent lights above. The room smelt like antiseptic fear—sterile. The shattered glass, the gunshot, and Cross's protection of me sparked a panic as memories merged together. I tried to sit up, but a hand lightly tapped against my shoulder.
"Easy," Cross spoke in a low, quieter voice than I had ever heard. "You'll pull your stitches."
I glanced back at him, and for a brief moment, I noticed something unexpected—a genuine concern. However, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, and the unreadable mask he wore took center stage. Ignoring the agony, I pushed his hand away. "Where am I?"
With a stiff jaw, he muttered, "a safehouse." Among mine is one.
"Yourself?" I laughed, the rage abl abl. "Should I express gratitude for your survival, given that you've drawn me into this chaos?"
"You believe I had this planned?" His voice was sharper now, frustrated eyes flashing about. "You assume I wanted you to bleed out in my arms?"
"You tell me," I shot back, my voice shaking. You started lying to me right away. Everything about you is a lie.
His expression clouded. "Nothing, everything."
"Yes," I gripped my side and struggled to sit upright. "Only the parts that count."
Cross took a breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose, as if he were trying to cool himself. You have no idea how far this reaches.
Then show me what you mean. I grabbed it. "I know I'm a pawn in some sick game I never wanted to participate in."
For a minute, he remained silent, and I could sense a battle raging within him. At last he spoke, his voice unvarnished. "You are not a pawn. Not for myself.
I wanted to take his word for truth. God, I intended to believe him. However, I could not afford the luxury of trust. "Show it."
Cross moved ahead of me, his eyes remaining fixed on me. "You believe I have not tried? Since the moment I understood what was at risk, I have been working to shield you.
And what exactly is at risk? My heart thumping, I demanded. "My existence?" My liberation? Alternatively, something more twisted?
He turned away, and I twisted with sickness. Certainly, your life. But more than that is involved here.
Then tell me the truth, I urged, my voice lower now. "Everything about it."
Cross stopped, and I could see the struggle in his eyes. But the door exploded open before he could reply. One of Cross's men, Ethan, rushed in with a pale face.
"We have a problem," Ethan replied, his eyes flitting to me, then focusing on Cross. "They have discovered us."
Cross's whole attitude changed like a switch being turned on or off. He was all business, cold, and calculated, not the guy caught between feelings. "How much time??"
Ethan shot back, "Minutes, maybe less."
I sensed the blood leaving my face. You claimed this was a safehouse.
"It was. Cross stood with fast, deliberate motions. "They are getting more and more aggressive."
"Why??" Fear was biting at me, I asked. "Why are they so needy to reach me?"
"Because you're not just a loose end anymore," Cross remarked, his voice firm. You have leverage. Plus, they cannot afford to let you live.
The words strike me like a gut-reversal punch. "Leverage for what?"
Cross never responded. Rather, he seized my hand and hauled me to my feet. "We have to move."
" Where??" I argued, demanding. Do you believe that running will fix this?
"It's our only choice," he said, his hold strengthening. "Should they come upon you?"
"I'm tired of running," I murmured, tugging my hand free. "I am looking for responses."
"We have no time for this!" His eyes flashed with a concoction of anger and terror. "Do you believe I have not attempted to call off this? You're standing here debating when I have put everything on the line to guard you.
"Because I trust nothing of you!" Words started to flow before I could stop them.
Cross closed his jaw and looked hurt for a heartbeat. Excellent. I am not someone to trust. But believe this—the only reason you are still breathing is me.
Though there was no time to dwell on it, the tension buzzed between us. Ethan raised his gun as footsteps resounded down the hall. They are here.
Cross dragged me behind him, his body shielding. "Stay nearby."
As the door split under kicking open, anarchy broke out. Gunfire, shouting—a whirl of sound and violence. Every instinct screaming at me to flee, I stayed low, but I couldn't leave Cross. not right now.
He moved every action exact and lethal, like a man possessed. He was not without flaws, though. He staggered when a bullet touched his arm. I reached for the closest weapon, a big metal pipe, without thinking and swung it at the assailant. The man slumped; the impact knocked on my arms.
Cross looked at me, as if pride were flickering in his eyes. "Nice swing."
I panted, excitement coursed through me, "Shut up."
As more assailants arrived, we battled side by side, each moment a struggle for survival. The silence was intolerable when the last of them collapsed. Shaking, my breath came in jagged gasps.
Cross remarked, his voice quieter now: "We have to leave."
Too tired to dispute, I nodded. We staggered from the structure into the evening breeze. A terrible reminder of the regular existence I had, the city lights glowed in the distance. Cross's arm encircled me to help me to swing steadily.
You did great, he murmured softly.
I turned away, the wrath coming back. Don't. Try not to act as though this is natural. That among all of this makes sense.
His voice raw, he replied, "I'm not pretending." "But right now this is our reality."
"It doesn't have to be," I said, the tears I had been stifling about ready to burst. "I just wish my life back."
Cross's expression changed to become softer. So do I.
One shadow passed behind us before I could reply. Too late, I understood we were not alone. Aimed at Cross, a knife shimmered in the low light. I moved between them on instinct.
I gasped when pain exploded in my shoulder. I fell, and Cross caught me; his face wore a mask of wrath and hopelessness. The attacker left, and Cross yelled commands to his soldiers; all I could concentrate on was the agony.
"Why?." I murmured, my vision hazily distorted.
"Because you matter," Cross remarked, his voice faltering. For me.
Once more, the world became dark, and I questioned whether I would ever see the light.
One idea kept coming back to me as consciousness faded: I was not merely a pawn. I was more than just anything. And that terrified me as well.
- Writer
