Page 76 of Cinderella and the Daddy
“Shoot them!” I whisper.
Just then, another gunshot pierces the couch inches from where we’re hiding.
“Three.”
I realize he's counting. Counting the shots. My mind, desperate for something to focus on besides the terror clawing at my throat, latches onto the numbers.
“Four."
I find myself counting along, my lips moving silently with his. It's absurd, ridiculous even, but somehow the rhythm of it steadies me. Numbers I can handle. Numbers make sense when nothing else does.
"Five. Six. Seven." His voice is a low rumble against my back.
More shots, rapid fire now. They're getting desperate, or maybe just running out of patience. The sound is deafening in the small space.
"Eight. Nine. Ten."
The baby. Oh God, the baby. What kind of world am I bringing a life into? What kind of mother lets herself get trapped in a shootout?
"Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Standard magazine holds fifteen rounds," Luka murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
Luka's counting is getting faster now, matching the increasingly erratic gunfire. I can feel the tension coiling in his muscles. He's preparing to move, I realize with a chill of terror.
"Fourteen. Fifteen."
The silence that follows is different this time. Heavier. Like the calm before a storm instead of the eye of it.
And then he's moving, rising from our hiding spot with fluid grace despite the chaos. "Stay down," he orders.
And then he's gone, leaving me on the floor behind the couch with my heart in my throat.
The silence stretches for what feels like hours but is probably only seconds. Then I hear footsteps. Not Luka's footsteps. Someone else.
I don’t move. I do my best to conjure an invisibility spell.
I inch my body to the side and peer around the couch. A man steps through the ruined doorway, gun raised as he searches for me. Of course, he’s looking for me. I live here.
Lived here.
He's big, built like a bouncer, with dead eyes that make my skin crawl.
He hasn't seen me yet, but it's only a matter of seconds before?—
The man drops like a stone.
I see him hit the floor with a thud, and then Luka is there, materializing in the doorway like an avenging angel. His gun is still raised. There's something fierce and terrifying in his expression that makes my pulse skip.
He scans the room quickly, confirming the threat is neutralized, before his eyes find mine. The transformation is instant. The deadly predator disappears, replaced by the man who drops to his knees beside me with shaking hands.
"Are you hurt?" His voice is rough and desperate as his hands run over me, checking for injuries I don't have.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice. Now that the immediate danger has passed, the full weight of what just happened is crashing over me like a tsunami. We could have died. The baby could have died. We came so close to losing everything before we even had a chance to begin.
That's when I notice the blood.
"Luka." My voice cracks when I see the dark stain spreading across his left shoulder. "You're bleeding."
He glances down at the wound with the detached interest of someone examining a paper cut. "It's nothing."
