Bleed for Me
790 Words
Blood looked black in the warehouse light.
Knox hit the concrete with a grunt, his white t-shirt blooming red at the shoulder. The gunshot still echoed. Men were shouting. Boots pounding. _Them_, whoever the hell _they_ were, were coming through the front with bullets and bad intentions.
And I was running.
Because he told me to.
Because he’s the King of Nairobi and kings give orders.
But I stopped at the back door.
_You’re not dying for me either!_
Like hell I wasn’t going back.
I turned.
Knox was on one knee, firing over a crate with his good arm. Blood ran down his fingers, slick on the trigger. For every shot he took, they sent three back. Wood exploded around him. He was pinned. Bleeding.
Alone.
_Capable. Prosecutor. Don’t freeze._
I scanned the warehouse. Crates of guns. One Ministry auditor with no weapon. One bleeding gang leader with six dead men tattooed on his neck.
I made my choice.
I didn’t run to the door.
I ran to him.
“Are you insane?” Knox snarled when I slid behind his crate, rain and sweat sticking my hair to my face. “I told you to run!”
“You told me to wear shoes I could run in.” I grabbed a loose plank from a broken crate. Not a gun, but it would break a skull. “You didn’t say _which direction_.”
He stared at me. Blood on his teeth. Shock in those storm-gray eyes. “Aria—”
A bullet punched through the crate between us.
We both dropped.
His back hit the concrete. Mine hit his chest. For one second, nothing existed but the heat of him, the ragged sound of his breathing, the way his good arm came around me. Not soft. Not gentle.
Possessive.
“You should have left,” he breathed against my hair.
“You should have told me the truth in your office.”
Another volley of gunfire. Glass shattered somewhere.
Knox shifted, wincing. He pressed his gun into my hand. “Safety’s off. Three bullets left. You know how to shoot, Prosecutor?”
“Yes.”
“Liar.” But he smiled. Blood and pain and something terrifyingly close to pride. “Point and pull. Don’t think.”
“Where are your men?”
“Not here.” His jaw clenched. “They hit us on three sides tonight. Warehouse. Docks. My apartment. Someone sold me out.”
_Someone who files fake Ministry complaints._
The realization hit ice-cold. “The audit. It was a setup.”
“To get you here. To get _me_ distracted.” His hand covered mine on the gun. “And it worked. Because I’m looking at you instead of the door.”
Shouting got closer.
“On three,” Knox said. “We move to that forklift. You first. I cover.”
“You’re bleeding out.”
“I’ve bled worse.”
He counted. We ran.
Bullets chased us. I fired blind over my shoulder. Once. Twice. A scream told me I hit something.
We crashed behind the forklift. Knox’s face was gray now. His breathing shallow.
“How bad?” I pressed my jacket to his shoulder. It soaked through instantly.
“Bad enough that you need to listen.” He grabbed my chin, forced me to look at him. “There’s a tunnel under the floor. Behind the east wall. It leads to the street.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You are.” His thumb brushed my lip. Bloody. Reverent. “Because if I die here, Aria, someone needs to burn them for me.”
“Don’t you dare—”
“Coast Properties.” His voice was fading. “That’s who’s doing this. Check the Ministry files. They own the judge who signed your audit order. They want my territory. They killed my men.”
The warehouse doors burst open again. More men. More guns.
Knox pushed me toward a floor panel I hadn’t seen. “Go.”
I grabbed his shirt. “Not without you.”
For a second, the King of Nairobi looked young. Wrecked. Human.
“Please,” he whispered.
It destroyed me.
I pried up the panel. A ladder dropped into darkness.
Knox pulled me down for one brutal, bloody kiss. Tasted like copper and rain and goodbye.
“Run, Prosecutor,” he said against my mouth. “And when you’re done running...”
He shoved me into the tunnel.
“...come back for me.”
The last thing I saw before the panel slammed shut was Knox Vance, CEO by day, King by night, standing up with a gun in his hand and six names on his neck.
Ready to die.
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