22. Simon
Simon
Ihold onto June and run as fast as her legs will take us.
A gunshot rings out, and I throw my body over hers.
We burst through a door and into the night, the entire area pitch fucking black aside from the moon giving us minimal light.
“This way,” June whispers.
We dart behind cargo containers and continue pushing forward to put as much distance between us and these people as possible.
Another gunshot, but this time it isn’t near us. We must actually be losing these assholes.
“Where the fuck are we?” June asks.
“I can’t tell, not yet. All these fucking warehouses look the same.”
We slither along the storage container and pause at the end.
I poke my head out to make sure the coast is clear and nod for us to continue.
“I hear water,” June tells me quietly.
“I do too.”
“Could we steal a boat?”
“Yeah.” I swallow harshly. “Maybe.” I’m not a huge fan of open bodies of water, but if getting on a boat is what it takes to get her away from here, I’ll do it in a heartbeat.
“Over here!” someone yells. “There’s a blood trail.”
I grip June’s shoulders and steady her toward me. “I’m outmanned and outgunned. We have to run, love.”
She nods. “Together?”
I tug her hands up to my lips and kiss her knuckles. “Together.”
We take off, darting around another container and weaving through this industrial maze.
The stale air whips over my cheek and burns the cut that asshole gave me. Luckily for him, June finished him off, because if she hadn’t, I would have tracked him down and gutted him for what he did to her—and what he planned to do.
Bronco, I recall. A name that proves as a hint to who the fuck hired this bastard to abduct and torture my girl. Whoever is responsible will fucking pay—in blood, with their fucking life.
I will burn this city to the fucking ground to find the person who dares to try and take her from me.
Nobody considers laying a finger on her and gets away with it.
The open water comes into sight. For a split second, I hesitate, but continue pushing forward. We run along the edge of it and frantically search for a way out. Anything to give us reprieve from the men chasing us with guns.
A bullet darts by my head, and I move to position myself behind June to shield her from any attack. I don’t care if I die, as long as she gets away, that’s the only thing that matters.
We run closer to the edge of the water and use the few smaller storage containers lining the area to block us from any bullets that might come to us from the side. It isn’t much protection but it’s better than nothing.
Only, our rear and side aren’t all that are vulnerable.
And when a man shoots at us from up ahead, clipping June’s shoulder, spinning her around and toppling over the edge of the shipyard and into the water, I do the only thing I can think of—jump in after her.