chapter 7
1338 Words
Chapter 7 – The Aftermath of the Shot
The world stopped.
For one heartbeat, there was no storm, no rain, no sound—only the deafening echo of the gunshot hanging in the night air. It reverberated through Isabella’s chest, rattling her bones, as though the earth itself had cracked open.
Her scream rose but never left her lips. It lodged in her throat, a strangled, burning knot of terror. Her body trembled violently, her fingers numb, her heart pounding so loud it drowned everything else.
Then her eyes found Ethan.
Her soul split in two.
He stood frozen for the briefest second before his knees buckled, his tall frame collapsing against the marble terrace. The crimson bloom spreading across his side stole the last fragments of her air. His white shirt turned dark, the color of roses drowned in rain, blood flowing hot and steady down his ribs, mixing with the storm that poured over them both.
“No—no, no, no!” Isabella’s voice finally ripped free, raw, jagged. She dove to his side, her arms instinctively catching his weight before his body hit the stone. Her knees slammed into the ground, pain shooting up her legs, but she didn’t care.
Her shaking hands pressed against his wound, desperate, frantic, helpless. Blood gushed between her fingers, slick and hot, staining her skin. “Stay with me—Ethan, stay with me, please!”
His face was pale, too pale, lips pressed into a grim line as he fought the agony tearing through him. His eyes—those steady, haunted eyes—met hers, burning with pain and warning.
“Don’t—look at me—” he rasped, clutching her wrist with a bloodied hand. His grip was surprisingly strong despite the wound. “Run, Isabella. You have to run—”
Her tears mixed with the rain as she shook her head violently. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I’m not leaving you!”
The storm roared, lightning splitting the sky, thunder growling deep.
And then—
A shadow moved.
Damian.
He descended the terrace steps with terrifying calm, every stride measured, every breath controlled. Rain streamed down his body, soaking through the white of his shirt until it clung to the sharp lines of his chest and shoulders. His hair was plastered dark against his forehead, his jaw rigid, his eyes—those cold, merciless eyes—burned only for her.
The gun still gleamed in his hand.
“You think you can escape me, Isabella?” His voice was deep, steady, too calm. There was no rage in it, no tremor, only possession. Endless, unshakable possession.
Isabella’s chest tightened, her body going rigid even as Ethan’s weight grew heavier in her arms. She looked from the blood on her hands to Damian’s steady gaze, and bile rose in her throat.
Her lips trembled. “You—” Her voice cracked. “You shot him.”
Damian’s eyes flicked briefly to Ethan, then back to her, dismissing him as though he were nothing more than collateral. He crouched down a few feet away, the rain cascading around him, lightning crowning him like some unholy king.
“I warned you what happens when you run,” he said softly.
Ethan coughed violently, blood spilling over his lips. “Don’t—listen to him. He’ll—kill you next—”
Damian’s jaw clenched, but his smile was chillingly calm. “No, Ethan. She’s the only one I won’t kill.” His eyes returned to Isabella, burning. “Put him down. Come to me. Now.”
Her stomach twisted, her pulse a wild hammer inside her ribs. Ethan’s blood stained her palms, hot and slick. His weak hand clutched her sleeve, tugging her back, begging her silently not to obey.
“Don’t—” Ethan hissed, his voice raw. “Don’t go to him. Please, Isabella…”
Her tears blurred everything—the rain, the blood, the storm. She was caught between them: the man bleeding out in her arms, who had once been her protector; and the man before her, dark and dangerous, who had stolen her soul even as he broke it.
The storm wasn’t just around her anymore. It lived inside her.
---
The terrace became a battlefield of silence.
Damian took another slow step forward, lowering the gun at last, letting it hang at his side like a weapon he no longer needed. His gaze never left hers, unrelenting, unyielding.
“Look at him,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous. “He’s already falling. He couldn’t protect you then, and he can’t protect you now.”
Ethan’s body shook against hers, but his eyes burned, defiant even in his weakness. His bloodied hand fisted in her sleeve. “He’s lying. Don’t—don’t let him twist you.”
Her tears dripped onto Ethan’s face as she pressed harder on his wound, her voice breaking. “Stop. Please, stop this! I’m begging you!”
Damian crouched lower, until his face was level with hers, the storm haloing him in fire and fury. He reached out, his hand brushing against her soaked cheek. The contrast of his touch—gentle against her trembling skin—made her want to shatter.
“You belong to me, Isabella,” he whispered. “You’ve always belonged to me. And when you finally accept it, this pain—” His gaze flicked to Ethan with dismissive cruelty. “—will disappear.”
Her lips trembled, her soul torn in half. “You’re a monster.”
Damian’s mouth curved into the faintest smile, but his eyes were wild, burning. “Then you’re mine, little dove. Because you can’t stop wanting me.”
Her stomach dropped. Because some buried part of her—dark, unholy—knew it was true. She hated him. She wanted him. She could never escape him.
Ethan’s voice cracked through the storm, ragged but fierce. “Choose me. Just this once… choose me.”
Her heart fractured. The storm screamed. And still Damian’s hand lingered on her skin, branding her with his touch.
---
Shadows shifted.
Damian’s men emerged from the dark—two, three, four of them—like wolves stepping out of the night. Guns gleamed in their hands, circling, cutting off every path of escape.
Ethan staggered, forcing himself upright despite the blood pouring down his side. He dragged Isabella behind him, shielding her with his broken body. His voice was low, a snarl, but still burning with defiance.
“You’ll have to kill me first.”
Damian’s jaw tightened, though his tone remained calm, deadly calm. “That can be arranged.”
The men raised their weapons.
“No!” Isabella screamed, shoving herself in front of Ethan, arms outstretched as if she could shield him from the bullets. Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, shattering the storm’s roar. “Don’t touch him! Don’t you dare!”
Her scream froze the air. Even Damian’s men hesitated, their fingers tightening on triggers but not pulling.
Damian’s gaze locked on her, fury and hunger warring in his storm-dark eyes. Slowly, he raised his hand, brushing away the wet strands of hair plastered to her face. His thumb traced her trembling jaw with devastating tenderness.
“You want him alive?” he asked, his voice velvet and steel. “Then come willingly. Tonight. Choose me, Isabella. And I’ll spare him.”
Her stomach plummeted. The world tilted.
Ethan’s bloodied hand seized hers, weak but unyielding. “Don’t. Don’t give yourself up for me.”
Damian’s eyes seared into her soul. “One word, Isabella. Say yes, and he lives. Say no, and he dies here.”
The choice was a noose tightening around her throat.
Her lips parted. The word trembled on her tongue.
And then—
The night exploded.
A second gunshot split the storm, louder, sharper, ripping the air apart. The world went white, lightning blinding, thunder swallowing her scream.
This time, it wasn’t Damian’s.
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- Writer
