Chapter Eight — Blood and Fire
490 Words
The headlights cut across the windows, slicing the room into bands of gold and shadow.
Adrian’s hand went to the small of my back, guiding me behind him without looking away from the door.
“How did they find us so fast?” I whispered.
His jaw flexed. “Doesn’t matter now.”
He moved to the sideboard, opened a hidden compartment, and pulled out a sleek black pistol. Then another. He pressed the smaller one into my hand.
“I don’t know how to use this,” I said, my voice shaking.
“You point and you don’t hesitate,” he said, his tone like steel. “If they touch you, you shoot. I’ll handle the rest.”
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The first shot shattered the window before I could ask who they were.
Glass sprayed across the floor as the front door rattled under the force of a heavy kick.
Adrian grabbed me, pulling me behind the stone pillar that framed the fireplace. His arm came around me protectively, his breath warm against my ear.
“Stay with me,” he murmured. “Always with me.”
The door burst open. Two men in dark tactical gear poured in, rifles up. Another came through the broken window. Adrian moved like a shadow — fast, precise, lethal. One shot, one body down.
The sound was deafening. My pulse roared in my ears. One of them spotted me, his gun swinging in my direction. I didn’t think — I fired. The recoil jolted through me, the man stumbling back with a curse.
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Adrian was already there, taking him out before he could recover. Then he was in front of me again, eyes scanning for injury, his free hand gripping my chin.
“You okay?” His voice was rough, but his gaze was frantic.
I nodded, breathless. “Don’t stop.”
Something flickered in his expression — relief, pride, and something hotter. He turned back to the fight, and I stayed at his side, moving when he moved. We weren’t just surviving; we were moving like we’d been made for this moment, two halves of the same instinct.
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The last man fell, and the sudden silence rang louder than the gunfire. Smoke hung in the air.
Adrian holstered his weapon, but he didn’t move away from me. Instead, he caught my face in both hands, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth.
“You did good,” he said, voice low. “You stayed with me.”
The adrenaline, the fear, the nearness of him — it all tangled into one raw, consuming need. I kissed him hard, tasting the smoke and danger still clinging to his skin.
When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “They won’t stop until one of us is dead,” he said. “And I’ll burn the world down before I let it be you.”
TO BE CONTINUED
- Writer
