Under His Protection: A Dark Mafia Romance

18. The Gunshot

The gunshot ripsthrough the warehouse, a feral growl echoing off the steel ribs of the place. My breath hitches, a jagged shard of ice lodging itself in my chest.

Who had dared to pull a trigger?

My head snaps around, a frantic searchlight sweeping the scene. Cole’s men, a pack of snarling wolves, stand frozen, their faces masks of startled confusion. Some of the girls huddle together, their eyes wide open. My gaze lands on Alexander. He’s a statue, a marble figure. The crowbar, his weapon, clatters to the floor, a metallic groan amidst the silence that follows the gunshot.

A bloody blossom bursts on his hip, a crimson bloom spreading like wildfire across his white shirt.

“No!” Michelle’s scream tears through the air, a raw, primal cry that scrapes against my sanity. She’s a whirlwind of terror, a frantic blur of limbs as she throws herself towards Alexander, her eyes locked on his collapsing form.

My scream dies in my throat like a strangled gasp. They”ve shot him. They”ve shot him. Time shatters, the warehouse dissolving into a swirling vortex of noise and motion. I spot Cole, his face twisted in a triumphant smirk, another small black gun still smoking in his hand. He”s a predator, savoring his kill, the scent of blood a sweet victory in his nostrils. He had another gun hidden on him, and I missed it.

Michelle’s face is a mask of agony as she reaches Alexander, her broken wrist forgotten. I look at Any and Zara standing near me, their expressions shifting from hope to terror, their hard-won freedom slipping away like sand through their fingers.

My eyes then lock on Alexander. His body crashes to the floor, a deep red stain spreading on the concrete.

”Alexander!” I finally scream, a raw howl of pain tearing from my lungs. The shock of the gunshot, the realization of what has happened, crashes over me.

I throw the gun at Zara, ”Don”t let him out of your sight.”

She nods, her eyes blazing with a deep fire. She quickly aims the gun at Cole, the movement fluid, practiced. It”s not her first time with a weapon. But I can”t linger on that now. The world is spinning, my mind racing, trying to make sense of the situation.

I push through the stunned faces of Cole’s men, ignoring the guns pointed at me. Nothing matters except reaching him, holding him, trying to stem the tide of blood that’s draining the life from his eyes. The need to reach Alexander fuels every muscle in my body.

I kneel beside him, my hands trembling as I press them against his chest. His blood, warm and sticky, coats my fingers.

“Alexander,” I whisper, my voice choked with tears. “Hey, I’m here? Stay with me. Please, stay with me.”

His eyes flutter open, meeting mine, a flicker of life in the dying embers. “Ava,” he breathes, his voice a ragged whisper. “You—”

“Ssshhh—don’t talk.” My tears are falling onto his face, leaving wet trails. “Just—just stay with me.”

He coughs, a weak, rattling sound. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “It’s—- it’s okay, Ava,” he whispers.

“No,” I sob, my heart shattering. “Don’t—don’t leave me. Please.”

He reaches for my hand, his touch weak, but his grip surprisingly strong. “I love you, Ava.” His voice is fading. “Always.”

And then, his eyes lose their focus, his hand goes limp—

I stare at his lifeless face, a scream building in my chest, but it never comes out. The warehouse fades around me, the sounds of chaos muted and distant. All I feel is the crushing weight the size of a boulder where my heart is, an unbearable emptiness.

Blindly, I scramble to my feet, picking up a gun from the floor, and point it at Cole.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” I scream. “Get Katerina! Or I’ll blow your brains out.”

Cole, still reeling from the shock of Alexander’s limp body, stares at me. He glances at the gun, then at the second gun, Zara is pointing at him. His eyes widen as he registers the deadly intent in my gaze.

“You—- you wouldn’t,” he stammers from the floor.

“Don’t test me, Cole!” I snarl, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Get her! Now!”

The warehouse is silent. Cole’s men stand frozen, their gazes darting between Cole and me, their hands hovering near their weapons.

My heart hammers against my ribs. Sweat slicks my palms, making the grip on the gun slippery. My vision blurs, and the warehouse sways around me.

Cole glances at his men, his face pale, his arrogance finally shattered. “Get Katerina.”

Two of his men rush away, disappearing into the maze of shipping containers. I keep the gun trained on Cole, my finger still on the trigger. My eyes dart around the warehouse, searching for any sign of movement, any threat. Paranoia, a venomous serpent, coils tight in my gut.

Moments stretch into an eternity. Cole stares at me, but he doesn’t dare to move.

“Alexander,” I say and glint in his direction. “You don’t get to leave me again.”

I don’t know if he’s breathing. He’s not moving.

Finally, Katerina emerges, her face pale, her blue eyes narrowed, and her medical bag clutched in her arms. She moves swiftly towards Alexander’s body, her gaze flickering briefly to me, a cold acknowledgment of the gun in my hand.

“Check him,” I command, my voice shaking. “Do something. Fix him.”

Katerina kneels beside Alexander, her fingers probing his neck, checking his pulse. Her expression remains impassive, but I see a muscle twitch in her jaw, a flicker of something that might be—

I don’t dare to hope. Hope is dangerous.

She opens her medical bag, and her movements are swift and precise. She pulls out a syringe, filling it with a clear liquid, then injects it into Alexander’s chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “Is he—? Is he alive?”

Katerina glances up at me, her expression unreadable. “Man alive, very luck for him, da,” she says, her voice clipped. “For now.”

For now.I cling to those words with all my soul. It’s all I have at the moment. The old Russian lady’s thick accent sticks to my heart like a prayer. I need to believe that the man I love, the man who is my everything, won’t be taken from me.

Katerina’s eyes are ice chips: assessing, calculating. She dives into her bag, a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat, except her rabbit is another syringe filled with viscous, amber liquid. It shimmers like a captured sunset.

“What is that?” My voice is a taut wire.

“Something help him,” Katerina says, her voice a flat monotone, devoid of warmth. Her gaze flickers towards Cole. “Hold him still.”

Cole hesitates. He’s torn between obedience and the gun I’m still holding, a loaded threat aimed at his heart.

“You heard her, Cole,” I growl. “Hold him steady. Or the next bullet will be for you.”

He swallows hard, his face paling as if he’s tasted the cold fear I’m serving him. He gestures to two of his men, who shuffle forward, hesitant and wary, their eyes nervously darting between me and Alexander.

“Hurry up,” Cole snaps,” hold him up.”

Katerina ignores him, her focus laser-sharp on Alexander. She pushes the needle into his arm, the amber liquid vanishing beneath his bruised skin. I take a deep breath. The gun remains steady in my hand.

Please work. Please let him be okay.

Time slows to a crawl, each minute an eternity of agonizing silence.

Finally, his chest heaves, a deep, shuddering breath, a gasp of life. His eyelids flutter open, a groan escaping his lips. My breath releases a long, shaky sigh. My grip on the gun loosens a fraction of an inch.

He’s alive.

“He will live,” Katerina states. She stands, her gaze meeting mine. “But he need time to heal. Time—-that you, devushka, do not have.”

He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

My mind races like a chess game played with lives at stake. We need to get out now, everyone. I scan the faces of the girls, some still burning with the embers of defiance, others cowering in fear. I flash a smile, a quick flick of a switch, a silent signal of command. I know what needs to be done.

“We’re leaving Cole,” I announce, my voice casual, nonchalant. “Tell your men to step down.”

Cole hesitates, his eyes darting around, searching for a loophole, a way out of this unexpected turn of events. His men follow his gaze, waiting for his orders. I press the heavy gun against his temple, the cold metal meeting his soft flesh. “Now,” I say, my voice chilling, a whisper that surprises me with its ice-cold edge.

“Do as say, or this devushka will put bullet in head.” Katerina’s voice slices through the air, her icy gaze fixed on Cole.

Cole’s face drains of color. He nods curtly to his men. “Let them go,” he murmurs.

His men hesitate, trying to maintain a last shred of control before submitting. “Now!” Cole roars. They scramble to obey, ushering the girls towards the exit in a surge of rapid movement.

I keep the gun trained on Cole, a steady force against his skull, while Katerina helps Alexander to his feet. Zara and Anya join them, their faces strained, their bodies pushing beyond their perceived limits. They’re strong, stronger than they think themselves.

Emily helps Michelle to her feet. Their movements are slow and labored, and their bodies are weakened by the ordeal. But they’re alive.

“Are you coming, Katerina?” I ask, my voice emotionless, my gaze fixed on the exit. The gun remains pressed against Cole’s head, a constant reminder of my control.

“Is okay? I can?” Her eyes widen. “Devushka, sure?”

“You can,” I answer coolly.

I back away slowly, never taking my eyes off Cole. “Move,” I command, gesturing toward the exit with the gun. “And don’t try anything stupid.”

I need to take him to the entrance and lead him like a lamb to the slaughter. Then, I’ll usher the girls outside in a quick, calculated maneuver. We’ll make a run for it.

Cole, his face numb, walks ahead, hands raised in surrender, a marionette on a string. I follow close behind, Katerina, Alexander, and the girls flanking me. The other girls trail behind. Michelle and Emily are bringing up the rear, a procession of the rescued.

I shove Cole towards the exit doors, his hands still raised. The girls surge forward behind us. I only need him a little longer.

Almost there.

I glance back. Briefly, a flicker of movement catches my eye, but then I turn back to Cole as he spins around, a blur of motion. His hands drop, his fingers seizing a small black gun strapped to his ankle. It”s a viper strike—quick, deadly.

”Fuck,” I curse, the word a choked whisper. Another gun?

Before anyone can react, he raises the gun and fires into the group of girls. The deafening roar of the gunshot reverberates through the warehouse like a sickening echo.

Chaos erupts. The woman hit stumbles back, panic spreading like wildfire. A cloud of debris explodes from the impact, creating a swirling dust storm that obscures the scene.

My eyes lock onto a crumpled figure on the floor, dark hair spilling around her. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder.

“Nooo!” A strangled cry rips from my throat, echoing Alexander’s gasp. “Michelle!” My voice cracks, a scream tearing through the scene.

The back of her head is a mangled ruin, with blood and bone grotesquely exposed on the cold concrete floor. The metallic scent hits me with sickening force, bile rising in my throat.

“No!” I scream again.

In that split second, my hand tightens on the gun. My finger pulls the trigger before my mind fully processes the scene. The shot explodes from the barrel, a violent counterpoint to the silent scream in my soul.

Cole staggers back, clutching his side. A dark stain spreads across his beige suit. His face contorts in pain, and his carefully constructed facade of arrogance crumbles like dust.

“You bitch!” he screams, his voice a ragged gasp. “You fuckin’ shot me!”

But I have no time for him, no energy for his rage. All that matters is Michelle, her lifeless body sprawled on the concrete, eyes staring blankly at the spotlights on the ceiling. And Alexander, clutching his chest, face ashen, his breath a shallow, rattling whisper.

“Get our girls!” I shout, my voice rough. I usher the terrified women toward the door, my gaze darting between Cole, now slumped against a stack of crates, his breathing labored, and Alexander, struggling to stay conscious.

Michelle is gone.

“Katerina,” I say, my voice sharp, urgent. “You know a way out?”

The Russian woman, already brandishing a gun, nods feverishly. “Is now payback time, da?”

She snatches a set of keys and a phone of one of Cole’s men, a burly guy with a huge belt of tools, like a janitor’s worst nightmare. His eyes are wide, sweat streaming down his face.

We move fast, a ragtag parade of the wounded and scared. The spots of the warehouse lights cast shadows that twist and morph, making the stacked shipping containers look like metal monsters. I keep my gun on Cole, finger hovering over the trigger, ready to fire again if he so much as twitches. He’s bent over a crate, one hand on his side. Alexander is leaning heavily on me, his breath rattling like a dying engine. “Michelle–” he pants, doubling over in pain.

He’s hurt badly.

We are at the double doors leading out of the space; they are already open, and cool air is seeping in. As we burst through, Cole, his face a mask of rage, struggles to his feet, clutching his bleeding side. “You won’t get away with this!” he screams, voice raw. “I’ll find you! I’ll hunt you down! You’ll all pay!”

His threats are lost in the rush of our escape. We shove through the doors, Katerina bringing up the rear. Her gun is now aimed at Cole and his remaining men.

“Go, go, go!” I shout, pushing the girls ahead of me with one hand, the gun, and Alexander in the other.

“Zara, Anya. Help me with Alexander,” I say.

I need to make sure Cole and the men are locked in.

Nodding, a fire blazing in their eyes, they respond. “Da,” Anya says, pushing back her hair and grabbing Alexander from the waist, careful of the gunshot wound.

I glance down at him, struggling with sweat beading on his brow. “Come on, Alexander, move. Just a little further.”

I hesitate, looking back at the warehouse. “We can’t leave Michelle,” I say, my voice cracking like fragile glass.

Katerina grabs my arm, eyes fierce. “You want to die? Devushka die? Here?” She shakes her head. “We must go.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I nod, swallowing hard. “Let’s go,” I whisper.

Once everyone is out, I turn and aim the gun through the narrow gap in the door.

“Lock it!” I shout, my voice bouncing off the walls. One of the girls, hands shaking, fumbles with the heavy bolts, securing the doors with a resounding clang.

There’s no time to breathe. “Move!”

The corridors of the building stretch before us, a labyrinth of steel and concrete, a high-tech prison designed to keep people in, to lock away secrets. Katerina’s silver hair is pulled back in a now-messy bun, and she walks with a slight limp.

What is this place? It looks like head-of-operations for a big organization. The Raven, or shall I call him Cole’s work, probably.

After what feels like an eternity, we reach another heavy metal door, its surface scarred with rust and graffiti. It looks like a forgotten gateway to a forgotten world.

Katerina pulls out the keys, her hands shaking. The lock clicks open, the door groaning as it swings open, revealing a narrow alleyway. The cool and damp night air hits me like a punch to the face, carrying the scents of rain and exhaust fumes. The city lights, a blurred rainbow of colors, beckon from the far end of the alley.

We burst into the wet street, and Katerina locks the door behind us. I lean against the brick wall for a moment, my body trembling, I feel like a violin string stretched taut. Alexander slumps beside me, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. I look at him, then back at the locked door, a heavy steel barrier now separating us from the nightmare we’ve left behind. The reality of what we’ve done crashes over me, a tidal wave of emotions.

“We’re out— what now?” I ask.

But even as the words leave my mouth, a wave of grief crushes my chest. Michelle. Her lifeless face and her vacant eyes haunt my thoughts, a ghost flickering in the corner of my mind.

“We had to leave her,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. “If we stayed, we all would have died.”

We have escaped, but at what cost?