For a long moment, Arielle couldn't breathe.
Damian's hand over hers felt too warm, too steady—too much like a promise she wasn't sure she should accept. Her fingers trembled beneath his, but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. Something in his touch held her together when her world felt like it was collapsing.
"Kill me?" she whispered again, as if saying it twice would make it sound less real.
Damian nodded once. Controlled. Brutal. Honest.
"The man wasn't trying to scare you," he repeated. "He came with intent. Precision. Training."
Her blood ran cold. "Training? As in… a professional?"
"Yes."
She felt the car tighten around her, the air shrinking, her pulse rising.
"But why?" she demanded, voice breaking. "What have I ever done? Who would want—"
He squeezed her hand lightly, stopping her spiraling. "We'll figure it out. But you need to understand something, Arielle."
She lifted her eyes to him.
"This is not random. Someone planned it. Someone with resources. Someone confident enough to come after you in public."
Her stomach churned.
Damian leaned back, eyes hardening as he looked out the tinted window. "And someone foolish enough to think they can touch what I protect."
The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous.
Arielle didn't know how to respond. Damian wasn't a normal man. His world wasn't normal. She felt like she was standing on the edge of something enormous and frightening—and Damian was the only thing stopping her from falling.
The car slowed suddenly.
Damian's eyes snapped to the front. "Why are we stopping?"
The driver didn't answer.
Arielle frowned. "What's happening?"
Damian shifted instantly—hand leaving hers, body going tense like a steel trap about to spring open.
Then he saw it.
Up ahead, blocking the road, was a black van with no plates.
Damian swore under his breath.
The SUV stopped completely.
The other vehicle didn't move.
Silence cracked between them.
"Stay down," Damian ordered sharply as he reached behind him and pulled a gun from the side compartment.
Arielle's heart stuttered. "Damian—"
"Now."
His voice turned lethal, and Arielle froze before ducking down instinctively. Her breath came fast and shaky as she pressed herself against the seat.
The guards in the front were already unbuckling, pulling weapons.
Damian tapped his earpiece. "Unit Four, respond. We have a block. Possible ambush."
Static.
No reply.
"Damian?" Arielle whispered, panic creeping in. "Why aren't they answering?"
His eyes narrowed. "Because someone jammed our line."
As if on cue, the back doors of the van burst open.
Four masked men jumped out.
Heavily armed.
Arielle's scream caught in her throat.
Damian moved before she could blink.
"Keep your head down," he ordered again, voice sharp and edged with fury.
The gunfire came first.
Loud. Violent. Close.
The SUV shook as bullets hit the door on Arielle's side. She covered her ears and curled forward, heart slamming painfully against her ribs.
Damian fired back through the open window with terrifying precision. "Drive!" he barked.
The driver didn't move.
Damian swore. "Take cover! They've locked us in!"
More bullets. More shattering noise.
Arielle flinched with each impact.
She didn't realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until Damian suddenly grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.
"Look at me," he said, voice low but urgent.
Her eyes met his—wild, terrified, searching for safety that didn't exist.
"You're okay," he said firmly. "As long as I'm here, no one will get to you."
Something about his tone—absolute certainty—made her breath catch.
"But they're—"
A bullet cracked the window.
Arielle screamed and buried her face against Damian's chest. His arm wrapped around her instinctively, positioning himself between her and the danger like a shield.
The guards had already stepped out of the SUV, returning fire, but the masked men were closing in.
"Arielle," Damian murmured, bending close enough that his breath warmed her ear. "When I say move, you move. Don't think. Don't question. Understand?"
She nodded shakily against him.
One of the masked men fired at the guards, hitting one in the shoulder. The other man fell back with a cry.
Damian's jaw clenched, eyes flaring with something dark and murderous.
"They want you," he muttered. "Not me."
Her heart dropped. "Me?"
"Yes. Otherwise they would have opened fire on all of us at once."
A shiver ran through her.
"They're trying to take you alive," he added, voice colder than anything she'd ever heard.
Arielle's stomach twisted. Alive.
She didn't know what was worse—being killed or being taken.
"Damian," she whispered, voice shaking. "I'm scared."
"I know," he said quietly. "But I need you to trust me."
Another bullet tore through the side of the SUV.
Damian's grip tightened. "Move!"
He shoved open the door on his side and pulled her out with him. They crouched behind the SUV as more bullets rained down.
Arielle clung to his arm, legs trembling violently.
"Run to the wall," he instructed, pointing to a concrete barrier ahead. "Stay low. I'm right behind you."
She hesitated—just one second—but Damian cupped her face roughly, forcing her to focus on him.
"You want to live, Arielle? Go."
Her breath caught.
Then she ran.
Her knees almost buckled as she sprinted toward the barrier. Bullets hit the ground near her feet, pebbles flying. She stumbled, crying out, but Damian was there—lifting, steadying, pushing her forward.
They dove behind the wall just as a grenade clattered on the pavement where they'd been seconds before.
BOOM.
The explosion shook the ground, dust and smoke filling the air.
Arielle gasped, covering her head.
Damian grabbed her wrist and pulled her deeper behind the barrier. His breath came fast, but his voice stayed controlled.
"They're escalating," he muttered. "This isn't a warning."
Arielle's voice trembled. "What do they want from me? I don't understand—"
"You'll understand when we catch one alive," he said.
Then his eyes snapped upward.
A shadow.
Above them.
Too late.
A masked man leaped over the barrier.
Arielle screamed.
Damian moved like lightning.
He grabbed the man's wrist, twisting hard. The gun dropped. A punch. A knee. A sharp elbow. It was brutal, efficient—silent rage exploding through every movement.
But the attacker was trained too.
He kicked Damian back, reaching for a blade on his belt.
Arielle froze.
"Damian!" she cried, voice breaking.
He ducked, grabbed the attacker's arm, slammed him into the wall and pinned him with sheer strength. His forearm pressed against the man's throat, eyes burning.
"Who sent you?" Damian hissed.
The man spit at him.
Damian's jaw tightened. "Wrong answer."
Before he could press further, another gunshot echoed.
Damian jerked him down behind the barrier as bullets hit the concrete above their heads.
"Damn it," Damian muttered, dragging Arielle closer. "More of them are coming."
Arielle trembled violently. Her breath shook. Her hands shook. Her entire body felt like it was being ripped apart by fear.
Damian turned to her suddenly, grabbing her face between both hands. "Look at me."
Her eyes darted to him, wide and panicked.
"You're safe," he said again—slower, deeper, like he needed her to feel it in her bones. "I won't let them take you."
"But you can't fight all of them—"
"I can," he said. "I will."
His thumb brushed her cheek—unintentionally gentle in the midst of chaos.
"Stay behind me."
Another explosion sounded in the distance—another vehicle igniting. The attackers were retreating, regrouping, or planning another wave.
Damian grabbed her hand. "We're moving. Now."
They dashed behind the barrier, hugging the wall as they headed toward a narrow alleyway. Damian scanned the rooftops, the shadows, every angle.
He was in full predator mode—calculated, deadly.
Arielle's heart hammered as she ran beside him, breath ragged.
When they reached the alley, Damian pressed her back against the wall, shielding her with his body as he checked the area.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Arielle's breath trembled.
"Damian… are they gone?"
He didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed locked on the entrance, finger steady on the trigger.
Then:
"No," he whispered.
A chill shot through her.
"Then what—?"
"They're repositioning," he said. "They didn't fail their mission. They're regrouping to try again."
Arielle covered her mouth as panic surged.
Damian turned to her again—closer this time, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.
"Arielle," he murmured, lowering his voice, "you're not going to die today."
Her breath hitched.
"I won't allow it."
His eyes locked onto hers—dark, fierce, protective in a way that shook her.
"But why me?" she whispered. "Why is this happening?"
Damian's jaw tightened, and for the first time, she saw something like fear flicker in his expression—not for himself, but for her.
"Because someone wants to hurt me," he said quietly. "And they think taking you is the way to do it."
Arielle's chest tightened painfully. "But I'm nothing—"
He grabbed her chin gently, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"You're not nothing," he said. "Not to them."
His voice lowered even more.
"Not to me."
Arielle froze. Her heart stumbled. Her breath caught completely.
Damian realized what he said—but he didn't take it back.
Not even slightly.
Before she could speak, footsteps echoed from the entrance of the alley.
Multiple.
Fast.
"They're coming," Damian whispered.
He stepped in front of her, raising his gun.
"Arielle."
"Yes?"
"If they reach you… don't let them take you. Fight. Scream. Do whatever you must."
Her throat tightened. "Damian—"
His eyes softened for just a second.
"I'm going to end this," he said. "Even if I have to bleed for it."
And then…
The attackers appeared at the mouth of the alley.
All armed.
All coming for her.
Damian stepped forward, shielding her completely.
The first shot rang out.
Then the alley exploded into chaos.