CHAPTER 7 — Running Towards Danger
984 Words
The bullet struck the concrete beside my head with a sharp, vicious c***k, spraying dust across my cheek.
Adrian reacted before I could even scream.
His arm wrapped around my waist in one swift, forceful motion, pulling me flush against him as he twisted our bodies out of the line of fire. My feet barely touched the ground; he was already moving, dragging me behind a stack of rusted dumpsters.
“Stay low,” he breathed, his voice rough with urgency.
My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything except the sound of more footsteps pounding toward us. Adrian peered around the edge of the dumpster, his posture sharp, controlled, terrifyingly steady for a man being shot at.
“Is it them?” I whispered.
“Yes.”
The single word held a thousand unspoken meanings.
I crawled forward a little, enough to see what he was seeing. Two men in dark tactical clothing had emerged from the warehouse’s back corridor, scanning the shadows. One carried a gun. The other carried something worse, an electric baton that pulsed with a low, crackling buzz.
“This was supposed to buy us time,” Adrian muttered, jaw clenching. “Someone gave them the layout.”
“You mean someone from your family?”
“Or someone paid by them,” he replied. “Doesn’t matter right now.”
Another bullet tore through the air, hitting the metal dumpster with a violent clang that made me flinch hard.
Adrian’s hand slid instinctively to the back of my head, shielding me.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded, only barely.
He leaned in closer, his forehead nearly brushing mine.
“Lena. Look at me.”
I did.
His eyes, dark, steady, unshakable even now, held me like nothing else could.
“We’re going to make it out,” he said quietly. “I need you to trust me.”
“I do,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
Something flickered in his expression.
Something dangerous.
Something soft.
Something he tried to push down.
But not fast enough.
A shout echoed from across the lot.
“THEY’RE HERE!”
Adrian’s eyes sharpened instantly.
“They’re flanking. We have to move now.”
I swallowed hard. “Where?”
“Into the old drainage tunnels,” he said, pointing toward a low metal grate near the fence line. “It’s cramped, dark, and absolutely miserable.”
“That sounds… awful.”
“It’s also the only place their vehicles can’t follow us.”
He reached for my hand again, lacing our fingers together like he’d done it a thousand times.
“On three,” he whispered.
“One…”
My breath trembled.
“Two…”
The footsteps grew louder.
“Three…, GO.”
We broke from cover.
Gunfire exploded behind us.
Adrian kept himself between me and the bullets, his body angled protectively as we sprinted across the cracked pavement. The wind whipped against my face. My lungs burned. Fear clawed through me.
But his hand stayed tight around mine.
He didn’t let go. Not once.
We reached the grate. Adrian yanked it open with a strength I didn’t think was human.
“In,” he ordered.
I dropped into the darkness without thinking, because thinking might’ve made me freeze. The tunnel was cold and damp, with a pungent smell reminiscent of rust and earth, but it was shelter. It was something.
Adrian jumped down after me, landing softly despite his size. He slammed the grate shut above us just as a bullet struck it with a violent spark.
We crouched in total darkness.
Adrian pressed a finger to his lips and listened.
Footsteps.
Shouts.
Two men are arguing.
Metal clattering.
Then, silence.
My breathing was too loud. My heart was too loud. Everything felt loud.
I felt more than saw Adrian move closer, his presence a solid heat against the cold stone.
“You were so good,” he whispered. “You didn’t freeze.”
“I did freeze. Twice.”
“That’s still better than most people the first time they’re shot at.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No,” he murmured. “But maybe this will.”
His hand slid to the side of my face, brushing away a smear of dust I didn’t even know was there. His thumb lingered just a moment too long.
My breath hitched.
“Adrian…”
His fingers stilled.
His jaw tightened in the dim light.
“You’re shaking again,” he said quietly.
“You’re..., you’re too close.”
“Maybe.”
His voice dropped lower, rougher.
“Or maybe danger just makes everything feel closer.”
We stared at each other in the near-dark, breaths mingling. My pulse raced, fear and something far more dangerous tangled together.
Then he exhaled slowly and pulled his hand away.
“We have to keep moving,” he said, voice tighter than before. “This tunnel connects to the old network under the city.”
“How far?”
“At least a mile.”
“A mile?” I whispered. “Like… walking? In this?”
He nodded.
“Unless you’d rather go back and say hello to the men trying to shoot you.”
I glared. “You’re not funny.”
He allowed the smallest, fleeting smirk.
A c***k in the armor.
Gone in a second.
He shifted his backpack to check the gun, then looked at me with an intensity that made my chest tighten.
“Stay close,” he said softly.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He nodded once, almost like he needed to hear that.
Then we started walking deeper into the tunnel, away from the gunfire, further from the light, and deeper into a darkness that seemed to breathe around us.
But he didn’t let go of my hand.
Not even for a second.
- Writer
