Chapter 20 #3
I’m not even scared anymore. I’m terrified.
Absolutely and utterly petrified by whatever this whole thing means.
A massive panic attack is making its way through my mind, my breathing shallow, as if my lungs collapsed on themselves.
Is someone really trying to take Nammota down that hard?
And will people come after Lex for it, even if there’s no definite proof he’s him?
Of course they will. For a million dollars, some might even kill their own mother. And Lex is the only person who’s ever been suspected of being the hacker. So yes, he’s the target of choice in this scenario.
But we’re almost home, in the secure fortress that is his apartment, where I’m sure we’ll be safe. I’m already feeling better at the thought. Once up there, we’ll investigate the matter, see if the threat is real, and then strategize on what we should do next.
Lex exits the car first, since he’s on the right side, and waits for me as I join him out in the lightly pouring rain.
My dress and the fine silk aren’t offering much protection against the cold drops, but I hold the kimono around me because it gives me a sense of protection.
Lex must sense my state of mind because he wraps a solid arm around my shoulders.
Someone wants him dead. Us. And they’re ready to pay a small fortune to see it happen.
With each step we take toward the door, I’m feeling slightly better. We’re almost home.
When I briefly look up to see how much we have left to the door, I notice a man smoking a cigarette near it, his face half-hidden by the hoodie protecting him from the rain.
Our eyes cross, and I notice a tattoo on his face, a snake twirling on his sharp features.
Bertrand, the doorman, claims my attention, opening the glass door for us with a practiced smile.
But my gaze is drawn back to the stranger with the cigarette, as my disturbed brain only now registers there was something chilling in the look he sent me.
He flicks the butt away, its amber glow drawing an arch in the darkness.
Right as it lands on the ground, the man reaches for something behind him, tucked in the back of his baggy jeans.
My eyes widen at the sight of a handgun, its silvery barrel shining into the night. Within a split second, a rush of something powerful floods my veins, making my entire body feel electric. In the same motion, the stranger pulls the slide back and aims it at Lex.
Instinct, pure and raw, takes control of my body, and I push with all my strength against Lex, shoving him out of the weapon’s aim and further into the doorway.
Just as we pass it, a deafening detonation tears through the silence of the evening.
A flash of white illuminates it for a fraction of an instant as Lex and I stumble inside.
Everything slows down as he realizes what’s happening and grabs hold of me as we fall together, unable to maintain our balance.
Bertrand reacts as well, pulling on the heavy glass door to shut it.
But not before the man outside takes another shot, missing once more.
I watch, terrified, as the armed man shoots at the glass, determined to carry out his mission.
But it’s bulletproof, and the deadly bullets bounce off it, leaving nothing but white marks. This place really is a fortress. Ours.
When he realizes his shots won’t come through, the man stops firing. After a moment of staring at me right in the eye, something loathing in his glare, the stranger lets out a curse and shoves the gun back in his pants before running away.
Blood pumps in my ears so hard, I’m barely aware of my surroundings, of Lex’s solid hold on me, his hands pressing on my chest, of the concierge coming our way, of Bertrand taking his phone out. We’re still on the ground, my limp body half lying over Lex’s.
Someone almost killed him. The threat Oliver warned us about is very, very real. And much more imminent than we realized.
Lex’s voice seems to come from a mile away. Probably because my ears are still ringing. Someone tried to shoot him. A stranger, a man we’ve never seen before, to whom he’s never done anything, tried to kill him.
“Andrea!” Lex shouts, grabbing my face so I’ll look at him.
It snaps me out of my torpor, and I notice crimson droplets on his jaw and neck. When he pulls his hand away, I see it’s covered in blood, and my heart drops into the depths of my stomach.
“You’re bleeding!” I cry out, my own hands moving up to look for the wound. Did I not save him in the end? Fuck, why is my arm so heavy?
“It’s not mine,” he says, frenzied.
He repeats those same words, over and over again as he shifts us around.
I’ve never seen him so scared, so crazed.
He’s so distraught, tears gathering in his gray eyes, some of them falling down his cheeks.
His moves are clumsy, frantic, as he arranges us so I’m lying between his parted legs, my head resting on his thigh.
Bertrand is on the phone, demanding an ambulance, and Larry, the concierge, is hovering around us like a maniac, as panicked as everyone else.
“Lex, you’re hurting me!” I protest when he presses onto my chest.
“I’m sorry. I need to apply pressu—No, stay still! I’m so sorry, Andrea … This is all my fault.” His words make no sense, a litany of apologies and pleas.
Then I feel it. Pain. Not from his hand pressing on me.
Something sharp and cutting under the crushing pressure of his palm and fingers.
I look down and see that my blue dress is stained with something thick and dark, making the fabric look black.
But on Lex’s skin, the sticky fluid is bright red. There’s so much of it.
The bullet missed Lex by lodging itself in me.
Into my chest.
Panic like I’ve never experienced before tunes out every single thought. All but one.
“Baby, I don’t want to die,” I beg, meeting his eyes.
“You won’t. I won’t let you. Look at me, Andrea. I forbid you to die. You can’t abandon me.”
“Please … don’t let me die. I can’t—” Helpless sobs force me to stop, tears flowing down my temples.
He looks up from me to bark orders at the two men with us.
But I barely make out his words. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move.
My limbs are heavy, like I’m being swallowed by the ground.
My eyelids seem to weigh a ton, too. Everything turns blurry, but I try to fight it, to stay right here with him.
I just turned twenty-seven. I can’t die. But then, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Amy Winehouse … They all died at twenty-seven, didn’t they? Maybe I’m part of that curse, too.
But I had so many more years ahead of me. I don’t want to die yet. My family, my friends, my app … and most of all, him.
I don’t want to let go of him. I can’t.
“Andrea!” Lex shouts. “Look at me! No, don’t close your eyes. Keep your eyes open!”
I try.
I really do.
But as much as I want to keep looking at him, I’m suddenly so tired. The most tired I’ve ever been.
But it’s not darkness that welcomes me when I let myself drift into oblivion.
It’s a series of flashes. Me, young and innocent, playing in the front garden with Kate and Rafa.
Then, spending time with my dad, learning more about computers, exhilarated by this new knowledge.
I see my mom being silly and dancing with me in the living room to whatever trendy song is on the radio.
Then a game of Scrabble with Maria Carmen, and the chancla she throws at me when I’m caught cheating on my phone.
And then I see him in that elevator, the stranger who would become my entire world. I see us falling in love, us in Seoul, us being reunited, us being so impossibly happy together … And children, with curly hair and gray eyes, the ones I might never meet.
No, I can’t die. It’s impossible.
Our story just began.