Chapter 10
Dakota
I hate this place. This damn auditorium might be impressive, with its limestone walls and massive windows overlooking the ocean, but it's a security nightmare.
“The guest list changed again, they're driving me crazy,” Marcus growls, slapping papers against the table.
“I'm more worried about the event organizer herself,” I confess, lowering my voice. “My contacts suspect she owes favors to organized crime. Gambling debts or something similar.”
“Want us to cancel attendance?” the head of security suggests.
“Negative. Anna would kill us. You know how much this award means to her.”
***
In the auditorium, we walk with our fingers intertwined pretending to be a couple, though right now, I don't even know if we really are or if we're just half- pretending. She's always beautiful, but tonight she shines above everyone else.
“Will you relax already, damn it? Looks like you've had a million coffees,” she whispers in my ear, faking a smile.
“Something feels off.”
“Something always feels off to you,” she protests. “Just think you only need to keep me alive until the prototype works, and we have all the patents and authorizations in order. Once we reach that point, killing me won't make sense anymore.”
“I don't find that funny at all.”
“Relax, please, Dakota. Let's enjoy the night. Think of it as a date. You'll love the menu, and I'm dying to dance with you after dinner.”
After speeches that drag on too long for my taste, the award presentation begins and my anxiety skyrockets. Anna steps onto the stage, looking radiant under the spotlights, while I maintain a safe distance.
That's when I see it. A metallic glint at one of the entrances. Time stops. My brain processes the images before my body reacts; a gun barrel, a man in the shadows.
I don't think. Years of training become pure protective instinct. I run toward Anna while shouting “sniper” into the earpiece. Adrenaline makes everything seem to move in slow motion. The crowd's screams, chairs falling to the floor, her face between surprise and terror.
The shot thunders through the auditorium like lightning just as I impact Anna, pulling her down. I cover her with my body, but pain explodes in my shoulder like a hot iron.
“Dakota,” she breathes while I shield her head with my arm, in case of another shot.
“Shh, don't move, everything's fine,” I assure her, though the chaos that's erupted in the auditorium, with people screaming and running in all directions, doesn't inspire calm.
“You're… you're bleeding,” she mumbles with wide eyes.
“You now owe me two shirts,” I try to joke so she won't worry, but the pain starts becoming unbearable.
Through the earpiece, Marcus informs me they've subdued the shooter. I lift my head and see two police officers pinning him to the ground.
We rise slowly, once security team members indicate it's safe, and Anna looks at me with a distorted face. She brings her hand to her mouth and starts crying, pointing with the other at my left side, which has turned red.
“You stepped in front of a bullet for me,” she sighs. “You could have died, Dakota.”
“I told you I'd protect you,” I mutter with difficulty.
I try to stay strong, but I've lost a lot of blood. I start feeling dizzy and have to sit in one of the chairs. Fortunately, medical teams arrive quickly. I try to stand, but the world spins dangerously around me, and Anna holds my waist to keep me from falling.
“She needs surgery,” one of the doctors announces after cutting my shirt and examining the wound. “The upside is it looks like a pretty clean wound. Blood loss is normal in that area, though it doesn't seem serious.”
They lay me on a stretcher to load me into the ambulance, and Anna insists on coming with me. During the ride, the pain intensifies as the adrenaline subsides. Still, I can't look away from Anna's tearful eyes while she caresses my cheeks and whispers words of comfort.
“God, these guys really hate you,” I joke. “When did you say the prototype will be ready so they'll stop trying?”
“Shut up, silly! Save your energy until we get to the hospital.”
“Sorry I wore a sheer bra. Wasn't planning on taking my shirt off in the middle of an auditorium.”
“You're an idiot,” she whispers, kissing my forehead. “Thank you for saving my life. And please don't tell me it's your job.”
I just smile. I want to tell her I really did it because the idea of a world without her is unbearable. Because every morning, when we have breakfast together before I take her to the company, her smile lights up my entire day. I want to tell her I'd do it once and a thousand times, that I'd step in front of one bullet and a hundred to keep her safe.
Instead, I pull gently on her hand to kiss her knuckles and lose consciousness.