I scowl. “This is not the time to think about Adrian’s stupid possessiveness.”
“He’ll really murder me for touching you.”
“You’re not touching. I am.” I stare behind me at the silent men. “Who are they?”
Yan shakes his head, and I’m not sure if it means he doesn’t know or that I shouldn’t talk about them when they can hear us. Probably both.
All I know is that these men are dangerous—professional, even. They managed to slip under the heavy security at tonight’s party and even leave unnoticed. The car does have tinted windows, which helped, but still. Yan and I were completely taken off guard.
“Why are you so calm?” Adrian’s guard asks me, sweat trickling down his temples.
I stare at my steady hands. Even my breathing is calm. I didn’t panic, not even when Yan was shot. My immediate thought was to get him safe and sound from that predicament. It still is.
But ever since I got that text, I’ve had a premonition that something bad would happen. That’s why I practically begged Adrian to take us home.
“Panic won’t do us any good, Yan.”
“You’re so different.” He grabs my hand with his non-injured one and tries to pry me off him.
I swat it away as gently as possible. “Stop worrying about Adrian’s reaction when you’re about to bleed to death.”
“Not possible. We exist for him.”
“Jesus. That’s some warped sense of loyalty.”
“He’s so blinded, though…” he trails off, his voice weakening. “He’s lost sight of what’s important…”
I press harder on his wound and he grunts, pursing his lips to stifle a moan of pain. I can feel my strength waning and Yan still won’t stop bleeding.
It doesn’t take him long to lose consciousness. He tries to fight it, I’ll give him that. He keeps attempting to open his lids when I call his name, but then he’s out cold.
“Yan! Don’t faint. Think of your stupid boss and Kolya and Jeremy.” My voice is urgent, hysterical almost. He’s the only semblance of a friend I’ve had ever since I stepped into Lia’s shoes.
His dry lips twitch, but he doesn’t attempt to open his eyes.
“Yan!”
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!” Rifle Man turns around and hits me across the face with the tip of his rifle. Pain explodes over my temple and I taste metal from my lips.
Tears fill my eyes from the stinging pain, but I don’t let them out. I don’t release Yan’s inert, cold body either.
The car comes to a halt and I shrink further into Yan. If they throw him in the middle of nowhere, he won’t be able to survive.
“It’s time you deal with this bitch.” Rifle Man retrieves a cigarette. “I’m so tired of her annoying voice—”
His cigarette falls from his fingers when the driver shoots him between the eyes. His head lolls to the side, face contorted in surprise.
I gasp, my whole body going rigid. He just shot his partner.
The driver tips his head down, and the black hat hides his expression. His hand, covered by a black leather glove, rests on the steering wheel, and his other one that’s holding the gun is on his lap. His posture is relaxed, nonchalant.
“Noisy fucker,” he mutters casually.
My lips part as the realization slams into me. It’s the same voice from my nightmare.
The same tone.
The same tenor.
You have one mission. Pull the fucking trigger.
The shadow. The shadow is here.
“Long time no see, Duchess,” he says without turning around. “Miss me?”
I try to wiggle sideways to see him, but the hat and the mask still camouflage his face.
“Who are you?” My voice is calm but cautious.
“Who am I is an interesting way of putting it. Who are you, Duchess? What’s your mission?”
“I have no mission.”
“Yes, you do.” He twirls the gun in his hand, his forefinger pressing on the trigger. “You know it. I know it. If you don’t make it happen, you’ll pay the price.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” my lips tremble as the words leave them.
“Finding openings to talk to you is tedious as fuck, Duchess. Stop wasting my time and make it happen. I’ll check on you soon.” He gets out of the car, and before I can release a breath, he yanks my door open and wrenches me out.
I hold on to Yan and we both tumble to the ground. It’s dark outside. So dark that I can barely see the contours of Yan’s face.
The shadow stands in front of me, but there’s no way of making out who he is. He’s tall, lean, and smells like…bleach.
Bleach…why does he smell like that and why is it familiar?
“I’m not a patient man, Duchess. So don’t test my limits.”
And with that, he climbs in the car. The tires screech on the gravel and dirt before it shoots into the distance.
He’s leaving us here?
I don’t even have my phone to call Adrian or at least use it as a flashlight.
A groan comes from Yan and I feel in front of me until I catch something warm. His hand. Thank God it’s his hand and not another organ.
“Yan! Open your eyes.”
There’s no response, and when I touch his shoulder, I can feel the blood still oozing. If I don’t do something, he’ll undoubtedly die.
I strain to place him on his stomach, then I crouch in front of him, hook his good arm around my neck and grab the hem of his jacket with my other hand.
Standing up, I attempt to carry him. He’s heavier, taller, and bulkier than me, so that mission is an epic fail from the start. But I don’t let go of him, even when his entire weight falls on me.
I don’t stop.
I kick my heels off and walk barefoot to improve my balance. Pebbles dig into the soles of my feet like tiny needles. At first, I feel like my back will be broken into two, but after a few steps, an adrenaline wave rushes through my limbs.
I recall those times when I spent all-nighters in the studio, dancing and torturing my feet. I practiced again and again to perfect my posture, my technique, and my performance. If I could survive that, I can survive this. Because there’s no way in hell I’d leave Yan behind. He took those bullets for me. He’s dying because of me.
The night is calm and dark. There isn’t even a moon to help give me direction. A chill covers me from head to toe and my muscles scream in pain.
I walk for so long that I start losing feeling in my feet. I need to find a place to call for help, and I need to find it soon.
My toes touch a solid surface and I smile, even as I strain to hold him up. “I found a road, Yan. I’m going to get us to safety.”
He doesn’t release a sound. His pulse under my fingers is becoming weaker, his body heavier.
“Come on. Stay with me, Yan.”
Headlights shine in the distance and I attempt to make it to the road. I halt mid-step, jerking back when the car speeds past us. Fuck. That was close. If I had been on the road, it would’ve hit us.
The car stops up ahead, its red lights shining before it reverses at full speed, stopping right in front of us.
I nearly cry with joy when the passenger door opens and Adrian barges out. I stare up at his tightened features and his drawn gun. At the way he looks like a warlord ready to start a battle—and win it.