Bound by Blood and Gunfire
865 Words
The warehouse was silent.
Or it would’ve been, if not for the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant drip-drip of leaking pipes. Alina crouched behind a row of dusty crates, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. Her hand trembled slightly around the grip of her gun.
She hated this feeling—fear. Not because she couldn’t handle it, but because it reminded her she had something to lose now.
Dominic.
She peeked through the gap between the boxes. Two of Viktor’s men were guarding the exit. She only had one clip and no backup.
A week ago, she’d have handled this without blinking. But a week ago, she wasn’t tangled in feelings and kisses and dangerous silences with the enemy—Dominic Romano.
She hadn’t seen him since their night at the riverfront. Since his mouth found hers like it had always belonged there. Since her loyalty cracked for the first time.
And now, here she was—on a mission she hadn’t told him about. Because if he knew, he’d try to protect her.
And that would get him killed.
⸻
Twelve Hours Earlier
Alina stood in the hall outside Romano Corp’s high-rise conference room, her blazer stiff over her skin, her jaw locked.
Inside, Dominic was playing the role of a ruthless heir like it was a second skin. Suited up, voice smooth, smile sharp. Talking expansion and international holdings while the world burned quietly beneath them.
“You’re staring,” came a soft voice behind her.
Alina turned to see Marla, Dominic’s assistant. The woman raised an eyebrow.
“You’re either deeply impressed, or deeply in love. Which is it?”
Alina scoffed. “Neither.”
Marla smirked. “Sure.”
Alina didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Because lately, she wasn’t even sure what her answer would be.
Every time Dominic looked at her—really looked—like she was the only person in a room full of power-hungry men, something inside her chest flipped. She wasn’t supposed to like him. She was supposed to get close, get information, and disappear.
But his laugh lingered. His touch branded.
And his eyes? God, his eyes ruined her.
⸻
Later that night, her phone buzzed. A coded message lit up the screen.
Location: Docks, 2 a.m.
Subject: Viktor’s shipment.
Objective: Intercept. Minimal casualties. No trace.
Alina’s stomach turned. This was the opportunity they’d been waiting for. Viktor’s most illegal operation—arms dealing. If she took this down, it would cripple him.
And Dominic would never forgive her.
She stared at the message for a long time. Then deleted it.
⸻
Present
Alina took a deep breath and moved. Quiet steps. One after the other.
She lunged from behind the crates and took the first guard down with a chokehold, dragging him back into the shadows before the second noticed. The second heard the scuffle too late.
Bang.
One bullet. Clean.
Her chest heaved. That was too loud.
She sprinted across the open floor, heading for the metal stairs that led to the container marked with Viktor’s emblem.
As she reached for the latch—
A voice, behind her.
“I thought I told you to stay out of this.”
She froze.
Her heart didn’t just race—it stumbled.
Dominic.
He stepped from the shadows, gun drawn, expression unreadable.
“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, too shocked to sound angry.
“I could ask you the same damn thing,” he said, eyes dark. “But I already know.”
Their eyes locked. The air between them buzzed, not just with tension, but something deeper. Something twisted and heavy.
“Dominic, I didn’t come here to betray you,” she said quietly.
“But you did,” he replied, stepping closer. “You lied. Again.”
She swallowed. “This is bigger than us.”
“Don’t say that,” he snapped. “Don’t pretend this thing between us is just some mistake. You kissed me like it meant something.”
“It did,” she whispered.
Silence.
And then—he lowered the gun.
And stepped into her space.
“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he said hoarsely. “And I’m going to kill someone trying to save you.”
Her breath caught.
Dominic reached out, brushed his fingers along her jaw. “Don’t do this alone, Alina.”
She blinked back heat behind her eyes.
Then nodded.
They turned together, guns raised, lovers bound in a war not of their making.
⸻
Twenty Minutes Later
The raid was over. Alina crouched beside a concrete pillar, blood staining her sleeve—someone else’s, not hers.
Dominic limped toward her, face bruised, but alive.
He looked at her like she was fire and oxygen and maybe destruction too.
“We make a hell of a team,” he said with a crooked smile.
Alina let out a shaky laugh. “Terrible timing, though.”
He dropped beside her, groaning. “You gonna run again?”
She hesitated. “No.”
His hand found hers. Fingers tangled.
And in the chaos of broken crates and spent bullets, they found something steady.
- Writer
