Chapter 15 Octavian #2
But the thought of someone else standing at her side, touching her waist, shielding her… it's worse than the risk.
So screw that. I'm staying.
Even if it destroys my discipline, even if it costs me everything, I can handle this professionally. I’m sure I can manage my own fucking emotions.
I reach the bar and signal the bartender for water, but movement catches my eye.
That guy again. But his hands are trembling and he rapidly checks his watch. Sweat beads on his forehead as every instinct I've honed over a decade screams at me.
Threat.
Another man runs up to him and talks fast. They start to run and crash right into a couple, knocking the man's wife to the ground. He starts yelling as others rush to help her up.
I should follow them. Track them and neutralize them if necessary, but Keira is across the room, surrounded by people who wouldn't recognize danger until it was too late.
So here is my choice: follow the threat or go back to her.
One of the man's hands dips into his jacket pocket and pulls out a black control, a remote of some kind, as they bolt toward the exit.
My pulse spikes.
I abandon the water and cut back through the crowd, moving fast.
People turn, startled by my speed, but I don't care; something's wrong.
I reach Keira in seconds, grabbing her hand and yanking her to her feet.
"We need to go."
"What—"
I don't let her finish.
I pull her against my chest, my arms locking around her, and she crashes into me.
"Octavian, what's—"
Suddenly, my world explodes.
Glass becomes rain and fire becomes air.
The floor shudders beneath my feet, and the air fills with smoke and screams.
I lock my arms around her, shielding her from the debris raining down as we're tossed into the air.
Something slams into my shoulder, sharp, burning, but I don't let her go.
We crash to the ground and my arms and knees take most of the force as I try to protect her.
We roll twice from the blast and I instantly feel Keira's body go limp in my arms.
Something floods my chest that I haven't felt in a very long time. Fear. It's primal, deep, and makes me feel cold.
"Keira." My voice is low. "Keira!"
No response.
I lift her gently, cradle her face.
Blood trickles from a cut on her temple, and her eyes are closed.
"Keira, can you hear me?"
My hands shake as I press two fingers to her throat.
Her pulse is steady. Strong.
The relief is so intense I nearly feel weightless.
I press my forehead to hers for just a heartbeat, my breath ragged. "Don't worry, I'm getting you out of here."
Then I move, the soldier in me taking over.
I lift her over my shoulder, my left arm locking her in place. I scan the room, and see smoke billowing through the ballroom, people screaming and scrambling for exits.
I draw my gun with my right hand, kick some chairs out of my path and start moving.
People are screaming, running, crying all around me, but I keep my head straight, eyes scanning. I don't care about anyone but her right now.
As I make my way toward the side exit others are running to, I see two men moving in the opposite direction, coming toward the chaos, guns drawn.
One of them sees me, points, and they both raise their weapons.
I don't hesitate.
I fire three times in quick succession. One shot to the head of the guy who saw me first. The other guy takes my bullet to the chest and shoulder. They both drop surrounded by people trampling and screaming over them.
I continue running, stepping over their bodies without looking down.
The stairwell is narrow, smoke clawing at my lungs, but I don't slow. I keep moving, pushing people out of the way if I have to with my forearm, my right hand gripping my gun, my left keeping Keira pinned to me.
I burst through the doors and into the ground floor lobby. There's more people screaming, covered in blood and black soot, more chaos.
I kick and plant that fall over out of my way and I look around, trying to find another exit. The main one is crowded with people and it's bottlenecked and not moving.
As I race across the room, I see the man who'd passed us, who was sweating — the motherfucker who pulled out that remote and no doubt detonated the bomb.
He stops and looks directly at me and points.
"She's there. She's there," he yells to the left.
I follow his gaze and two people turn to face us with guns in their hands. I stop and jump to my right behind a marble column. A man running by gets hit and warm blood sprays against my hand gripping tightly to Keira.
I pop back out and fire twice. I hit one of them in the leg and he screams and falls to the ground.
I pop around the other side of the column and catch the other one in the chest. He falls back, his gun sliding away.
I come around and fire two shots at the man who's on the ground holding his leg and he falls back onto the floor, blood pooling under him.
I continue running; Keira's weight presses against my shoulder, her red hair spilling down my back, and I adjust my grip, making sure she's secure.
I see the man who set the bomb off now and he's looking around frantically trying to find others to alert. I see red and despite my better judgment I run at him furious. When I get close I plant my size 13 shoe into his chest and send him flying back.
In any other situation I'd probably take him, find out what the hell is going on, but I don't have that luxury.
That doesn't mean this piece of shit lives though.
I run up to him as he's scurrying back. Two shots to the face end his life and I'm torn between killing the one who put her in danger and not finding out why.
But the only thing that truly matters right now is getting her out alive.
I continue and find a side door the valet uses to run for cars. I move through it and out into the night.
Outside, sirens wail in the distance. People scatter across the street, their faces pale with terror.
I spot the SUV we took in the front and run for it. Every car I drive I have two sets of keys made and tonight I'm thanking for it, as I don't have to hunt down a valet person to get them.
As I run, my shoulder burns where debris hit me, and my lungs scream for air, but I don't stop. I'd never stop for her.
I reach the SUV and dig in my pocket for the keys to unlock it. I yank the back door open with one hand, my movements jerky, uncoordinated.
My hands are shaking, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
I lay Keira in the back seat, careful despite the chaos still raging around us.
I quickly rip my jacket off and fold it into a makeshift pillow and slide it under her head, my fingers brushing her hair back from her face.
Seeing her like this cracks something in my chest. She's so full of life and fire all the time; she's never meant to be like this.
I shut the door and slide behind the wheel. I start the car and floor the gas before I've even fastened my seatbelt.
The city blurs past me. Red lights, stop signs, traffic laws — none of it matters as I honk through intersections to stop everyone so I can pass.
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Keira. She's still unconscious, her red hair cradling her face on my jacket, the same one that still smells like her perfume.
Blood stains the fabric of her dress, and her skin is too pale.
But she's breathing and finally for the first time, so am I.
I've never been this afraid before.
I've faced fire, lost men, bled for orders, but nothing feels like this.
My hands tighten on the wheel, and I push the accelerator harder.
I don't just want to protect her. I want to claim her. Keep her. Have her.
And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.