CHAPER3
1457 Words
Megan sat beside Ben for hours, listening to his slow, steady breathing. He had finally fallen asleep, but she knew it wouldn’t last. His world their world never allowed for peace.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out, her stomach twisting when she saw the name on the screen.
Dad.
Her fingers hovered over the screen. She knew ignoring the call would only make things worse. Taking a deep breath, she pressed accept and held the phone to her ear.
“You think you can hide from me?” Peter Braxton’s voice was cold, sharp like a knife.
Megan swallowed hard. “I’m not hiding.”
A bitter laugh. “Then come home.”
Megan glanced at Ben, still unconscious on the couch. She turned away and lowered her voice. “Not until you stop this.”
Peter’s voice turned dangerous. “That boy has poisoned you.”
“No one has poisoned me,” she shot back. “I love him, Dad. And I won’t let you hurt him.”
Silence. Then, in a chilling tone, her father said, “I warned you, Megan. And now, you leave me no choice.”
Her pulse spiked. “What do you mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough.”
The call ended.
Megan stood frozen, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Her father never made empty threats. If he said something was coming, it was coming.
She turned to wake Ben just as gunshots shattered the windows.
Glass shattered around Megan as bullets tore through the windows. She ducked instinctively, her heart hammering in her chest.
“Ben!” she screamed, rushing to his side.
Ben jolted awake, groaning in pain. His instincts kicked in immediately as he tried to move, but his injured leg made it impossible.
“What the hell?” he gritted out, reaching for the gun tucked under the couch.
“They found us,” Megan panted, pressing herself against the couch for cover. “It’s my father. I he called me. He said I’d ‘see soon enough.’”
Ben cursed under his breath. He peeked over the couch, just as another bullet whizzed past, narrowly missing him.
“Snipers,” he muttered. “At least two. Probably more men on the ground.”
Megan’s blood ran cold. “We have to get out of here.”
Ben clenched his jaw. “I can’t run like this.”
Megan’s mind raced. She could hear footsteps pounding up the stairwell. Her father’s men were coming. They had seconds maybe a minute before they were trapped.
“I’ll get us out,” she said, her voice firm.
Ben looked at her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “Megan”
“Trust me.”
He hesitated, then gave her a nod. That was all she needed.
Megan grabbed the gun from his hands. It felt heavier than she expected, but there was no time to think. She took a deep breath, steeling herself.
The front door burst open.
Megan didn’t hesitate. She squeezed the trigger.
The first man through the door crumpled to the ground, blood blooming across his chest. The second man barely had time to react before Megan fired again. He fell backward with a grunt.
Ben stared at her, impressed. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Megan’s hands were shaking, but she pushed the fear aside. “We have to move.”
Ben gritted his teeth. “Help me up.”
Megan threw his arm over her shoulder and lifted with all her strength. He hissed in pain but didn’t complain.
“Where’s the exit?” she asked.
“Back hallway. Leads to the fire escape.”
Gunfire erupted again, this time from the hallway.
“s**t,” Ben muttered.
Megan’s grip on the gun tightened. “Then we fight our way out.”
Ben chuckled, despite the situation. “I love you, you know that?”
Megan’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then don’t die on me.”
With that, she took the lead, dragging Ben with her as they made their way through the apartment—straight into the war her father had started.
Megan’s pulse pounded in her ears as she half-carried Ben through the dimly lit hallway. Every muscle in her body screamed from the weight of supporting him, but she refused to stop. Behind them, the apartment was filled with gunfire. The air smelled of smoke, gunpowder, and blood.
Ben groaned as he limped forward, his wounded leg barely holding his weight. “You should leave me,” he muttered.
Megan gritted her teeth. “Shut up.”
“I’m slowing you down—”
“Shut. Up,” she snapped, tightening her grip around his waist. “I’m not leaving you, so stop talking like I will.”
Ben huffed a breath, then nodded. “Got it.”
The hallway stretched ahead of them, leading to the back exit. But Megan knew they weren’t alone.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Megan barely had time to react before the man raised his gun.
She fired first.
The man dropped instantly, a bullet lodged in his chest.
Ben let out a low whistle. “You sure you didn’t grow up with hitmen?”
Megan’s hands were shaking, but she forced herself to steady them. “I grew up with my father,” she said bitterly. “Same thing.”
They kept moving. Each step felt slower, heavier. Megan knew Ben was losing blood, and fast. If they didn’t get out soon, he wouldn’t last.
Finally, they reached the metal door at the end of the hallway. Megan pushed against it, but it wouldn’t budge.
Ben cursed. “They locked it.”
Megan’s mind raced. “Is there another way?”
Ben was about to answer when they heard footsteps behind them.
Megan turned in time to see three men storming down the hall, guns raised.
“Move!” Ben shouted, shoving Megan against the door as bullets sprayed toward them.
She ducked, heart pounding. They were trapped.
Ben fired, hitting one of the men in the shoulder, but the others kept coming. Megan knew they couldn’t fight forever.
Then she saw it.
A small window, high up on the wall.
“Ben, the window!” she yelled.
Ben followed her gaze. “It’s too small for me.”
“But not for me,” she said. “Cover me.”
Without waiting for his response, she climbed onto a pile of old crates, gripping the ledge. Her fingers dug into the rusted metal frame as she pushed the window open.
Ben fired at their attackers, keeping them at bay. “Megan, hurry up!”
She hoisted herself through the narrow opening and dropped onto the fire escape outside.
Her breath came in short gasps as she turned, reaching through the window. “Give me your hand!”
Ben hesitated. “I can’t fit”
“You will,” Megan snapped. “Now take my damn hand!”
Ben growled in frustration but obeyed, gripping her hand tightly. Megan pulled with everything she had. His broad shoulders barely squeezed through, but after a painful second, he was outside.
Gunshots rang behind them, hitting the window frame.
Megan yanked Ben onto the fire escape. “Move!”
They stumbled down the rickety metal stairs, Ben’s arm slung over her shoulder. The alley below was empty, but that wouldn’t last. They needed a car.
Ben groaned. “My bike’s around the corner.”
Megan’s eyes widened. “You rode a bike here?”
He managed a weak smirk. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
Megan rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. They made it to the bottom of the fire escape just as another round of bullets sprayed from above.
They ran well, Megan ran, dragging Ben with her until they reached the street.
Ben pointed toward a sleek black motorcycle parked near the curb.
Megan groaned. “How are we supposed to ride that when you can barely stand?”
Ben smirked through the pain. “You’re driving.”
Megan blinked. “You trust me to drive your bike?”
“Not really,” Ben admitted, “but I’d rather take my chances with you than with your dad’s hitmen.”
Megan hesitated only for a second before helping him onto the bike. She swung her leg over and gripped the handlebars.
Ben wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his body against her back. “Try not to kill us.”
Megan revved the engine. “No promises.”
With a screech of tires, they tore down the street, leaving the gunfire and the war behind them.
For now.
- Writer
