Page 210 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

My boots hammered across the concrete, each stride carrying me closer until there was nothing left between us but a few feet of bloodstained floor.

I hit her hard.

The impact drove the chair sideways, the old timber unable to withstand the combined force of my weight and momentum. It shattered beneath us with a deafening crack, legs snapping apart as we crashed into the concrete.

I barely felt it. Instinct took over before thought ever had the chance.

My body folded over hers, every inch of me wrapping around her like armour. My left arm locked behind her shoulders, forcing her head safely beneath my chin. My right arm pulled her tight against my chest while I twisted my own back toward the gunfire.

If another round came through that warehouse… It was coming through me first.

More shots erupted.

Glass burst somewhere near the boiler room. Bullets slammed into the corrugated steel wall behind us, showering us with fragments of concrete, rust and splintered timber.

I never moved.

I buried my face against her hair instead, breathing her in with an almost painful desperation. Beneath the blood, diesel, damp concrete and burnt gunpowder... she still smelled like rose and vanilla.

Home.

My arms tightened around her trembling body until I could feel the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat against my ribs.

"I've got you," I whispered, though I barely recognised my own voice. It came out cracked... broken... desperate.

"I've got you, baby. You're okay. I've got you."

She wasn't okay. The second the chair gave way beneath us she started fighting with everything she had left. Her wrists were still tied together behind her back, the coarse rope biting deep into bruised flesh, but with the chair destroyed she finally had enough movement to struggle. She twisted violently beneath me, trying to wrench herself free, her bound hands trapped awkwardly behind her back as she shoved against my chest with her shoulder with every ounce of strength she still possessed.

At first, I thought she was panicking. Then I realised. Her hands.

"Shit..."

Keeping my body over hers, I reached down to the sheath strapped against my vest and ripped my combat knife free. Without lifting my weight from her, I slid the blade beneath the tight coils of hemp around her wrists.

"Hold still," I muttered.

The knife sliced clean through the rope. The instant the last strand snapped, her arms flew free. I expected her to cling to me. Instead, she shoved against my chest even harder, desperately trying to push me away.

"Elias!" she screamed, her voice shredded almost beyond recognition.

"No! Get off me! Get off me!"

I only pulled her closer.

"No," I growled, my forehead pressed against hers while another burst of gunfire echoed across the warehouse.

"Stop moving. Stay down. It's almost over."

"No!" She pushed harder, panic flooding every movement.

"Elias!"

"I'm not leaving you."

"You don't understand!"

"I do."