The Shadow of the Past;
1422 Words
Emir collapsed to the ground, blood pouring from his shoulder as his vision blurred. The hot stream seeping from his wound burned against the cold stone floor with every drop. The sharp pain in his chest deepened with each breath, and his strength was fading fast. His eyes swept the surroundings; silhouettes moved stealthily among the trees, lurking in the shadows. A chilling wind carried the metallic scent of his blood through the air. For a brief moment, he wondered how he could possibly get Alara out of this warzone unharmed.
Alara dropped to her knees, breathless, tearing off her blouse to press it against Emir’s wound. Her fingers trembled, but her eyes were hard as steel. Fear had no place in her. She listened intently; gunfire erupted from two flanks of the grove. The enemy was closing in, but they weren’t fully encircled yet. Every second mattered.
“The bullet went clean through no vital organs hit. But you’re losing blood fast. You need stitches immediately,” she said, her voice steady though tension cracked beneath the surface.
Emir forced his eyes open. Alara’s face hovered above him, framed against the dim sky. Her sharp features looked even harsher in the fading light. Even through the pain, his gaze lingered on her. She wiped the sweat from his brow, and his lips parted with a hoarse whisper.
“This isn’t about me. I need to keep you safe.”
Alara scanned their surroundings. They had to move before the enemy closed in. Just a few feet away, a steel serving cart caught her eye. If they could reach it, they might have a chance to retreat to the mansion. But it was a deadly gamble; bullets rained from both sides of the grove. They were caught in a crossfire.
She drew a breath. “Emir, give me a weapon. One arm down, you can’t hold them off alone. If we push for that cart, I can cover you. Otherwise, we won’t make it.” Her voice was unwavering.
Emir studied her. Even after years leading a special operations unit, he knew this was the same conclusion he would’ve reached. But how had Alev no, Alara seen it so quickly? There was no time for hesitation. He pulled a second pistol from his waistband and handed it to her.
Alara seized the gun with practiced ease, her fingers instinctively checking the chamber. Emir’s breath quickened. She ejected the magazine, slammed it back in, and with a single motion, flicked off the safety. Emir frowned in disbelief. Those movements belonged to someone forged by years of training.
The silence of the grove shattered. Alara narrowed her eyes, aimed, and fired three rounds in succession. The gunfire from the trees abruptly ceased. A knot of unease twisted inside Emir.
“Who are you, Alev?”
Alara inhaled sharply. A window had opened. “Now!” she hissed, leaping from behind the overturned table. Together, they crawled toward the serving cart, moving fast despite Emir’s throbbing wound.
At last, they reached the start of the path. In another minute, they could be safe. Then Alara froze—she’d heard it: the sharp click of a safety being disengaged. She turned her head, and her stomach dropped. A pistol was pressed against Emir’s temple.
The pale sunlight glinted on the steel, but the man holding it remained cloaked in shadow. Long black hair spilled over his shoulders, merging with a thick beard that gave him a savage air. His eyes were pits of darkness, filled with calculation and malice. Thin lips curled into a mocking smile.
Alara knew him instantly. The man before her was Shirvan the leader she had once negotiated with on a mission years ago, during her time with the Wolf Unit.
“Well, well. It’s been a long time,” Shirvan said, his voice smooth as silk but carrying the edge of a blade.
Alara’s face was a mask, though a storm raged inside her.
Emir, however, was transfixed by a single thought: why was the gun aimed at Alara, not him? Suspicion clawed at him. If Shirvan wanted me, he’d use her. But he isn’t… Something’s wrong here.
He narrowed his eyes. “Your gun is pointed the wrong way, Shirvan,” he said, his tone lethal.
The man chuckled, amused. “If I’d wanted to hunt you, yes, Emir Kara,” he replied, then smirked and corrected himself. “Or should I say… Boz?”
Alara’s eyes flicked to Emir’s. She wasn’t surprised she had suspected. But the true question burned deeper: if Shirvan wasn’t after Emir… then who?
As if to answer, Shirvan tapped the gun against Emir’s head in a taunting rhythm before leaning closer. His lips parted.
“I came for the lady,” he said, eyes locked on Alara.
A blaze of fury erupted through Emir’s body. He snarled through clenched teeth. “Take one more step toward her, and I’ll tear your organs apart with my bare hands, Shirvan!”
The warlord sneered. “Hahaha. Such bold words, for a woman you barely know.”
Emir’s eyes darkened with questions. Alara ground her teeth, fighting her own rage.
Shirvan bent forward until his breath brushed Alara’s face. His voice dropped to a venomous whisper.
“Good evening… Madam Prosecutor. How have you been?”
Emir’s eyes widened, struggling to absorb the revelation. Alara’s face hardened, fury spreading like wildfire across her features.
Shirvan turned back to her with a mocking laugh. “Am I wrong, Prosecutor? He thinks you’re a harmless little kitten. He doesn’t know you’re a predator hiding your claws…”
They had used Emir to get to her. Yet what Alara couldn’t grasp was how they had discovered that Emir mattered to her at all something she hadn’t admitted even to herself.
Now, they were tossed like sacks into the back of a panel van. The metal floor rattled with the vibrations of the engine, its cold surface biting against their skin. The echo of the motor drummed through the darkness. Emir lay pale in the corner, shirt torn, his shoulder drenched in blood. Minutes passed without a single word between them.
Alara understood his silence. Emir had served the state once. Then his family his team was wiped out. His hatred for law enforcers was justified. But this morning, his eyes had been warm, alive. Now, they were ice. And that cut deeper than any wound.
She crept closer, needing to check his injury. Tentatively, she reached for his shoulder only for Emir to seize her wrist midair and hurl her to the floor. Her knees slammed into the steel, pain shooting up her legs. But the shock on her face outweighed the sting.
“I need to look at it. If necessary, I’ll clean it,” she said firmly.
Emir’s gaze was cold, his voice clipped. “This isn’t your problem, Madam Prosecutor.”
Anger flared in her chest. She shot to her feet, her voice sharp. “What’s the matter, Emir Kara?! It was fine when I was Alev the lawless woman. But the moment I’m Prosecutor Alara, suddenly everything changes?”
Emir’s eyes glinted with unmasked darkness. “I found Alev. I wanted Alev. And I…” He cut himself off, his tone sharpening. “But you you’re Alara. And you’ve been using me like prey for your hunt, haven’t you, Prosecutor?”
A bitter smile tugged at Alara’s lips. It wasn’t about his identity anymore. The pain came from the thought that what they had might be nothing but lies. But then she realized… It didn’t matter who Emir Kara was. She loved him. And her career could no longer stand in the way of that truth.
She reached out, her fingers brushing his cheek, tracing the chill of his skin. When their eyes met, she leaned in.
“It was never a mission, Emir. You were never my assignment. My job was only a mask… a mask for the feelings I couldn’t admit, even to myself.”
Her lips pressed to his, deep and desperate, as though it was their first and last kiss all at once. His breath, his warmth, his very being sealed into that moment.
When she pulled back, her eyes lingered on his. She smiled faintly and whispered:
“In truth, Emir Kara… being a prosecutor has its advantages.”
Then she removed the tiny earpiece from her ear and switched it on. A small light blinked alive, glowing in the darkness.
- Writer
