Chapter 21 Lyra
LYRA
We exit the station and it hits me. He's holding my hand, or I'm holding his. It doesn't matter which, it's happening. All I know is his fingers are tightly wrapped around mine and my duffel swings from his other hand as we step onto the empty sidewalk.
Two of Declan's men stand by the curb of an idling black SUV, but I know there must be more nearby. There always are.
Their shoulders tense, hands hovering near their waistbands. Guns, I know without asking.
One gives Declan a nod and pulls open the back door.
I glance up and the sky is black with not that many stars, and the air feels wrong, heavy almost.
Something isn't right.
"Get her in the car," Declan says to the one who didn't open our door, and the man turns to walk around the SUV.
And then all hell breaks loose.
The first shot cracks through the night like thunder, shattering the back window of the car.
I hear another shot.
Then more.
Gunfire erupts from across the street. I duck instinctively, heart beating hard in my chest. One of Declan's men yells something. Another returns fire.
"Down!" Declan shouts, throwing himself in front of me, shoving me behind the SUV. Bullets ping off metal. I hit the pavement hard, a small rock biting into one of my palms.
Glass from more broken windows rains down over us.
"Stay here!" Declan roars, already drawing his weapon. His body hovers protectively over mine for a split second longer before he's gone, out in the open.
I press my hands over my ears, heart pounding in my throat. I can't move even if I wanted to. I can only watch.
Declan moves with a fluid efficiency that seems impossible. One moment he's shielding me, the next he's firing back. His face transforms. Gone is the man who tore my bus ticket, replaced by something cold and lethal.
He fires, takes cover behind the SUV, then moves again.
"Two on the east corner. Another behind the blue sedan."
I remove my hands from my ears, thinking my hands might be more useful if I have to run, and I look around, thinking of where I could run to.
The man who opened the door for us stumbles and I see blood pour from his neck. He drops to his knees and then to the ground.
My body says stay hidden, but my medical training kicks in and I scurry over to him. I don't think there's much I can do, but I have to try.
Blood seeps from my fingers and as I look for anything around to help stop the blood, another bullet hits him, half a foot from my hands. I fall backwards and crawl back behind the SUV.
"I said stay down!" Declan orders me as bullets rip through the air around us.
I nod and press my back against the car.
I hear the men shooting at us. They're yelling in Albanian.
Fuck, they came for me.
I look over at Declan and he seems to anticipate their every move.
He drops to one knee beside me, reloads in seconds, then rises and fires three rapid shots.
One Albanian goes down with a scream. Another tries to circle around the parked cars by us, and I scream.
But Declan sees him coming. He fires twice, driving the man back into the shadows.
I've spent years patching up men who claimed to be dangerous. Men who boasted about their power, but I've never seen someone who fights with such skill. No hesitation. No wasted movement.
"Henry, ten o'clock!" Declan shouts, and one of his men pivots, firing at a figure emerging from between two buildings. The attacker retreats.
Suddenly, a dark van screeches into view and jumps the curb close to us. More Albanians pour out.
Declan grabs one of them, slams him into the hood of the car, and strikes him hard enough to knock him unconscious.
Another swings at him with a crowbar. Declan ducks, tackles him, and drives his elbow into the guy's throat. The man crumples.
Bullets tear through a street sign above where I crouch. I scream and cover my head.
I feel a shake and look up. It's Declan reloading beside me. "Are you hit?"
I shake my head.
His eyes scan my body anyway, hands patting down my arms, sides, thighs.
"You good? Look at me. You good?"
"Y-Yeah. I think so."
"Good. Stay here."
"Declan!" Henry yells.
But he's already up again, tossing him a second clip. Henry reloads mid-run, spins, and shoots a man charging at us.
Declan shifts his body, keeping himself between me and the gunfire. A human shield. The realization hits me hard.
Talk is one thing, but this, this is action.
He's protecting me.
Not just in the abstract way he claimed before, with money or employment, but with his actual body. Putting himself in the line of fire.
For me.
The fight feels like it lasts hours, though it must only be minutes more. Declan reloads without missing a beat, eyes scanning, movements fluid and deadly. Two more attackers fall back, wounded, dragging themselves to cover.
The final attacker appears suddenly from behind a parked car to our left. A massive man I feel I recognize. One of the Albanians from back then. From the compound. The nightmares.
He's shouting something in his native tongue, gun raised and aimed directly at us.
Declan pushes my head down and fires. When I look up, the Albanian is on the ground, unmoving, expression frozen in surprise.
Silence falls, broken only by the ringing in my ears and my own heavy breathing. It's finally over.
Henry checks the area, speaking rapidly into his phone, confirming the attackers have retreated or been neutralized.
Declan turns to me then, and the look on his face makes my stomach drop. Fury and fear war, mixed in emotions I've never seen on him before.
He grabs my hand. "Can you stand?"
I nod and he pulls me up.
"From now on, you don't leave my sight," he growls. "You're coming with me. My house. My rules. My protection. End of story."
I don't dare argue. Not this time.
Because I watched him fight for me. I watched him shield me with his own body. I watched him risk everything.
And for the first time in my life, I feel safe.
Even if that safety is wrapped in blood and fire.
He pulls me toward the SUV and I climb into the back, sliding across the leather seat. Declan follows, sitting so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. He says something to Henry, who hops in the driver's seat, but I don't catch it.
I turn to look out the window and my hands won't stop shaking. I stare at the aftermath of the ambush, at the men scattered across the street. Men who came for me.
The car lunges forward and our tires are screeching as we exit the bus station.
"Are you hurt?" His voice cuts through the fog in my head.
I shake my head, then realize that's not entirely true. My palms are scraped raw, and there's a dull throbbing in my shoulder.
"Your arm," I say instead of answering. "You're bleeding."
He glances at the wound like it's an inconvenience rather than a bullet graze. "It's nothing."
"It needs cleaning."
"Later."
I stare at him for a moment as he looks around. The efficiency he showed was both terrifying and amazing. I wonder how many times has he done this?
"They won't stop," I say. "The Albanians. They'll keep coming."
Declan turns to me then.
"Let them try."
Those three words shouldn't comfort me. They shouldn't make my heart rate steady or my breathing slow. But they do.
Because for the first time since I was fourteen years old, someone else is fighting my battles with me. Someone who might actually be strong enough to win.