When darkness falls
1002 Words
CHAPTER THREE:
I didn't pack a bag.
I stood there, frozen, while Adrian moved through my apartment like he owned it, checking windows, testing locks. Moving with a grace that shouldn't have been possible for someone who'd been stabbed three times an hour ago.
"You need to rest," I said.
"I need to make sure we survive the night." He pulled the curtain back an inch, peered down at the street. "They're already watching."
I moved to the window. He blocked me with his arm.
"Don't."
"This is my apartment."
"Not anymore." He let the curtain fall.
Turned to face me. "You helped me. That makes you a liability, they'll use you to get to me."
"So what? Am I just supposed to leave? My life is here. My school, my job..."
"Your life is over if you stay."
The words hit like a slap.
I sank onto the couch where he'd been bleeding out minutes ago. The cushions were still warm, still damp with blood.
"I don't understand," I said. "I just helped someone, that's it. That's all I did."
"You helped the wrong person."
"Who are you?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he moved to the couch, lowered himself down beside me with a grimace of pain. When he spoke, his voice was softer.
"My name is Adrian Volkov. I run shipping operations along the eastern seaboard, legal and otherwise." He paused. "Mostly otherwise."
"You're a criminal."
"I'm a businessman. The methods are just different."
"You mean illegal."
"I mean effective."
I laughed. It sounded hysterical even to my own ears. "I saved a mobster, of course I did ,because my life wasn't complicated enough."
"I didn't ask you to save me."
"No. You just bled out in an alley and waited for someone stupid enough to help." I stood, paced to the kitchen. "Who stabbed you?"
"Competitors."
"Who was in the car?"
"An old friend."
"Friend? He pointed a gun at me."
"Like I said. Old friend." Adrian leaned back, closed his eyes. The painkillers I'd given him were kicking in, or the blood loss was catching up.
"Mikhail and I used to work together, then we didn't. These things happen."
Do these things happen? People trying to kill you just happens?
"In my line of work? Yes."
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, drank it in three gulps, my hands were shaking.
"I need you to leave," I said.
"I will. In the morning."
"No. Now."
He opened his eyes. Looked at me. "If I leave now, they'll come for you anyway. At least if I'm here, I can keep you alive."
"You're barely alive yourself."
"I've been worse."
"That's not reassuring."
He almost smiled. "It wasn't meant to be."
I set the glass down. I looked at him. He was dangerous. That much was obvious. But there was something else there too, something underneath the cold exterior and the expensive suit and the tattoos that marked him as the other.
Exhaustion.
Not just physical, rhe kind that settled into your bones and made every breath feel like work.
I knew that feeling.
"Fine," I said. "You can stay tonight but tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow you pack a bag."
"I'm not leaving my life because you have enemies."
"You won't have a life if you stay."
Before I could argue, the lights went out.
Complete darkness, the kind that pressed against your eyes and made you forget what light looked like.
"Don't move," Adrian said, his voice coming from the darkness. "Don't make a sound."
I froze. I heard him move, and heard fabric rustling. Heard the soft click of a gun's safety being released.
"Are they here?" I whispered.
"Yes."
Footsteps in the hallway, stopping outside my door.
The handle turned.
I'd locked it. I always lock it, but the door opened anyway.
A figure stepped inside, backlit by the hallway light, broad shoulders, something in his hand.
Adrian moved.
Two shots. Muzzle flash lit the room for a split second, the figure dropped.
Another figure behind him, running toward us.
Adrian fired again. Missed. The figure tackled him. They went down hard, crashing into my coffee table.
I ran, I didn't think, just ran to the kitchen. Grabbed the knife from the dish rack.
The men were grappling on the floor, trading punches. Adrian was injured, the other man was fresh.
He was winning.
I didn't hesitate.
Drove the knife down into the man's shoulder, felt it scrape against the bone. I felt warm blood spray across my hands.
The man screamed, rolled off Adrian. Clutched his shoulder.
Adrian grabbed his gun. Aimed.
"Wait," I said. "Don't..."
He fired.
The sound was deafening in the small space. My ears rang, the man stopped moving.
Adrian pushed himself up. Looked at me, at the knife in my hand, the blood on my arms.
"We need to go," he said.
"There's a dead man in my apartment."
"There are two dead men in your apartment and more coming." He grabbed my arm. "Move now."
I moved.
He pulled me toward the door, stepped over the first body. Checked the hallway, empty for now
"Fire escape," he said. "Where?"
"My bedroom window."
We ran. My legs felt like water, like they might give out any second. Adrian's hand was firm on my arm, pulling me forward.
We reached the bedroom, he threw the window open. Cold air rushed in.
"Climb."
"I can't..."
"You can." He pushed me toward the window. "Climb. I'm right behind you."
I climbed.
can't…"
"You can." He pushed me toward the window.
"Climb. I'm right behind you."
I climbed. Metal grating under my hands.
The fire escape groaned under my weight. Three stories up. I didn't look down.
Adrian followed, his breathing was labored. The stitches I'd just put in were probably tearing, but he didn't stop.
We made it to the second floor.
Then the fire escape gave way, metal shrieking, bolts tearing free from brick. We fell.
- Writer
