Page 27

I wasn’t the best with a gun, and with the minimal lighting, I knew I wasn’t going to hit my target very well. But it would have to do. If rampant gunmen surrounded us, trying to take our lives, anything was better than nothing.

“Hurry, hurry toward the boat,” Mikhail commanded, keeping his back to us and shielding us as Arkane and I rushed to the boat. Just as we were about fifty meters away, one of the men sneaked toward Arkane’s side, aimlessly firing at him.

It only took a flash of a second for Arkane to aim his handgun at him and shoot him point-blank between his eyes, all the while keeping a tight hold around me. Even if this was all a farce, his instinct was to somehow protect me. I wasn’t sure if I should read more into it or if it was just something natural for him.

I counted about eight men in total; three were already on the ground, dead or alive, I wasn’t sure. One of our men took a bullet to his thigh, but he was still shooting at the men without missing a beat. Arkane’s security team must be highly trained to achieve this level of proficiency.

It all only lasted a mere couple of minutes before all eight men fell to the sand in a sea of shell casings, with the smell of acrid gunpowder carried by the salty winds.

Arkane’s hand circled my waist as he hoisted me inside the speedboat and bounded in after me.

“There could be more of them,” Mikhail said as he jumped into the boat, followed by the injured man whose name I caught as Simon, while the other man, Eric, maneuvered our boat to start.

Mikhail and Arkane spoke rapidly in hushed tones, both their faces pinched in heavy frowns, while Simon kept a lookout. It wasn’t long before the engine vibrated to a start, jolting us forward as it surged through the water.

Just then, through the corner of my eye, I saw one of the bodies move on the ground, and before I could make him out in the dark, he was on his knees, aiming his gun at Arkane.

“Watch out,” I shouted, and instead of shooting at him, I leaped to the balls of my feet and threw my hand back to fling my gun his way. I watched the gun spin toward him at high speed and hit him smack in the forehead, and his shot instead fired into the sky as he fell back to the ground.

For a second, no one spoke a word, as they gave me a baffled look. A flush crept over my cheeks as I took the lone seat by the back of the boat, grateful for Arkane’s suit jacket still draped over me as we sped through the dark waters. It took five minutes for my hammering heart to calm down.

Thankfully, Arkane and Mikhail resumed their conversation, and Simon tended to his wound by himself despite my attempt to help him, and I let him be as I watched the white foam of the ocean waves crash along the side of our boat. For some reason, the slight spray of sea on my skin felt like a revelation. Like something so significant from a simple act of nature.

I did it, Ma. I kept one of the promises I made to you.

“I apologize for the way things ended tonight,” Arkane’s voice boomed over my shoulder.

The rough journey on the speedboat only lasted for less than twenty minutes before we boarded the yacht and were on our way home. Arkane assured me we were safe now and that I could relax, telling me that he would take care of everything.

It had been an hour since then.

I’d just taken a very hot shower, and instead of trying to keep up appearances, I donned a soft pair of my cream-colored pajamas and found myself in the same spot from this morning, curled on the soft lounge couch on the upper deck with my bag next to me. I felt better knowing my blades were next to me in a spot that I could reach at any second.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I replied softly as he took the seat beside me. Only the light from the lone lamp by the corner swathed the entire room. Even then, I could see the glisten in his wet hair falling over his handsome face.

“Sorry, I lost your gun,” I said with a slight smile.

“Most would shoot, you know,” he quipped dryly. “That’s what they use it for.”

I shrugged. “I’m not very good with a gun, and I didn’t want to take my chances.”

He chuckled and asked, “Hungry?”

“Hmm.” I nodded. “I would love some salty fries and a fried chicken sandwich with something sweet on the side, like cake. Carrot with cream cheese, if you have some, or anything would do, really.”

He raised a brow, smiling, but didn’t say anything as he texted someone on the phone.

Not even ten minutes later, dinner was delivered to us, steaming hot and fresh, as if someone had magically teleported it from a Michelin-starred restaurant, all beautifully set on shining china.

Arkane quietly kept me company, and we both didn’t speak a word as we ate our dinner. He had grilled lean meat, green beans, and some mash at the time, which seemed appropriate for a well-kept man like him.

It was only when I finished every last inch of my meal, including the cake, that I turned to him and said, “That was incredible. Make sure you send a thank you to whoever made it.”

“I’ll convey the message.”

“The attack tonight…” I started, shifting to the side to face him. “The men didn’t seem very highly trained. Whoever hired them hired the wrong people.”

“I think so too,” Arkane shared my sentiment.