Page 56 of Vow to Protect
Ludacris starting offers bounce off each other, taking the bidding from fifty thousand to one hundred thousand in a matter of seconds. My breathing stammers. I search for her under the glaring light, ready to break Blaine’s neck to reach her. Through puffy lids, I pinpoint delicate shoulders framed by tousled waves as dark as the deepest tempestuous ocean. Her scar flames under quick breaths. True panic ripples over her trembling limbs.
The auction grows distant. I notice how she crouches and fumbles in the jacket pocket by her feet. When she rises, her gaze fixates on the switchblade resting in her quaking palm. The once golden skin on her beautiful face blanches. When the blade releases, violence shakes the weapon.
I throw up my hand. Too late. Too far away. My breath catches when she leaps forward and jams the blade into Blaine’s back. His surprised yell is savage. The hatred in his eyes turns monstrous. Retaliation will surely end her life.
She twists the blade. A wash of red covers crisp white cotton. Blaine swings his right fist. Knuckles meet her chin. She careens sideways, stumbling helplessly.
As I launch forward, my ankles are looped, and my arms captured behind my back. Anarchy reigns. In my struggle to break free, I buck and yell. “Run, Raen! RUN!”
A kick behind my knees brings me crashing down. Raen swivels towards me, the handle of the blade tight in her grip. Men swarm the ring, circling Blaine as he thrashes and gnashes his teeth. I sense the misplaced danger before it happens. The figure rising in the periphery of my vision. An arm lifts vertically. A gun points through the free-for-all.
Craning my neck, I find Malakai angling a revolver. He takes aim. A bullet fires. My gaze follows the deadly trail, widening as it passes Blaine and heads straight for Raen.
It wasn’t mistaken identity, or a rogue cartridge meant for the enemy. His aim was precise. His target laser focused.
No matter how loud I roar, the explosion of gunfire sends a pulse of confusion through Scrios, causing a cowardly stampede. My thunderous warning goes unheard. Raen’s body jars on impact, and she hits the canvas flat on her back.
I'm pinned on my stomach, crushed from above. Raen remains motionless, only metres away but too far to reach. I squeeze my eyes shut, then blink them open, praying he missed. Hoping she’s alive.
“Who the fuck shot her?” Blaine screeches, clutching his elbow to stop his shoulder moving. “Did you aim for the mark?”
Dexter kneels down and lifts her forearm, pressing his fingers to the vein on her wrist. He lets go, and her floppy arm hits his knee on its descent. As if he doubted his assessment, he reaches for her neck. “No pulse. She’s dead.”
His mouth moves with unmistakable words, silencing the turmoil surrounding me. I read his lips. The message is so clear. The jarring pain in my heart mutates into a ferocious monster. I’ll take on the goddamn room and exterminate every spineless bastard in here.
She can’t be dead. She didn’t deserve to die.
I strain to escape so hard that my veins bulge over my muscles, throbbing with a hunger for a violent rampage.
Malakai killed Raen? He’s stolen a beautiful life. I’m a curse. I’ll fucking kill him too.
I writhe and clobber, wired for slaughter.
“Stay the fuck down, or I’ll blow a hole in your head.” My captor wrestles with me until the cold blunt barrel of his gun prods my ribs.
I have to stay alive. I need to get home for Tilly.
I scramble to my knees, bowing my head in surrender.
“Go on then, you fucking asshole!” Blaine spits out.
My eyes cut to the injured man rooted to the spot with a revolver pointed at his head. This time, Malakai targets Blaine at point blank range.So why did he murder Raen?
Scrios empties. Dexter scoots away from Raen’s lifeless form and raises his gun. Abusing Malakai’s second of hesitation, he shoots. In the brief span of time he has restrained me, I’ve lost a second chance at finding love and an age-old friendship.
Steel thuds. Malakai’s weapon hits the base of the ring. He hunches over. Blood spatters. His legs fold, and he sinks, clutching his gut with one hand and steadying himself with the other. The drive to fight back wanes, and he slumps to his side in slow motion.
“And to think we were shaping up to become amicable trade partners.” Blaine marches to Malakai’s beaten form and spits down at him. “I had a feeling that guy was a turncoat. If the bitch hadn’t fucked up my shoulder blade, I’d take great pleasure in gutting him like a fucking fish.”
The asshole on top of me twists my arms when I tussle. Blaine’s men rally around him, escorting him away from mortal danger. Weighted pressure on my back weakens as the man prepares to get up.
In a beat, I stretch out and snatch Malakai’s gun. Hitching my arm into the air, I snap the trigger and watch the bullet perforate the spot right behind Blaine's kneecap. His leg gives way, and he nose-dives. The pathetic asshole howls in agony. Two men gather him up and drag him to the exit.
Dirty boots land in my low line of vision. “Put the gun down.” Dexter points his firearm at me. I toss the weapon and glare up at him. “Put it down,” he snarls.
“I have?” I pant out. My lungs compress with the weight bearing down on my spine.
The sound of the bullet departing his revolver seems to mute the world. My muscles tense for impact. In my mind, I visit the love of my life who grins at me from her warm, safe bed. Sweet curls tickle my jaw, and she kisses the tip of my nose. “I love you, Daddy.”
