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“It is? But I’ve loved you for so long.”
“Say it more often then,” he rasps, taking my face in his hands and kissing me hard. Kissing me until I’m whimpering and trying to wrap my legs around his hips. “Please.”
I nod, breathless as he pulls away. “I will. I promise.”
He shoves away from the SUV, seeming torn over leaving me, even though there are two guards in the front seat, on the other side of the partition. “Stay here. I’m leaving two men. The doors are locked and the vehicle is armored. Nothing can touch you if you just stay inside.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The door closes and locks. Damian tests the handles. Three times.
He’s only leaving me for a few minutes, but the bright anxiety in his eyes tells me he’s already on the edge and I hope he gets back soon. I don’t like him being worried.
Through the windshield, I watch Damian and a group of his men move toward the courthouse and up the steps, where they disappear inside. I lean back against the seat and sigh, dreaming up names for our puppies. Maybe we can name them after the four seasons or the Beatles. I’ll have to ask Damian what he thinks after the ceremony—
A flash of black in my periphery captures my attention.
I sit forward, staring dumbfounded at the man who moves at a fast clip on the sidewalk. The sun catches a gleam of metal inside his suit coat. He’s sweating and staggering a little bit, like he’s had too much to drink—and I know full well what that looks like.
Because it’s my father.
“No,” I cry out in the silent car when he pulls the gun out of his jacket. “No, no, no…”
He’s going to shoot Damian. I know it with every fiber of my being.
Somebody has to warn him.
I bang on the partition but my fists are muffled. Is it soundproof? It stands to reason that it must be after everything we’ve been doing back here. If the guards aren’t already out of the SUV, they must not have noticed my father pass with the gun.
Do I have time to get out and explain it to them? They might refuse to leave me and save Damian, as per their boss’s instructions.
I have to warn him. There’s no other choice.
If I had a cell phone, I would call him, but I can’t even remember if I packed it and anyway, I don’t have his number.
My father has too far of a head start now. I have to move.
Pain grabs onto my lungs like tentacles and won’t let go even as I break Damian’s rule and throw open the back door, hurtling myself out into the parking lot. I run at breakneck speed toward the courthouse, my father having disappeared inside only a few seconds before. My pulse is going a thousand miles an hour in my temples and my breath is emerging like winded sobs, but I have to reach Damian.
He’s been my guardian angel so many times. Now it’s my turn to be his.
I can’t let him down and I can’t let him die.
“Hey!” one of the guards yells from the SUV, doors being thrown open. “Arya! Get back here!”
No. No, I can’t stop. When I enter the courthouse, I’m not sure which direction to go, but I see a few people staring down a back hallway and know they must be wondering about the lumbering drunk man. So I sprint in that direction, fear clogging my throat.
I catch the very tail end of my father’s foot as he steps into a room labeled “county clerk” and I run for everything I’m worth. Because I know Damian is inside that room. Male voices rise ominously just as I round the corner, my gaze searching frantically for Damian among the black suits, and there he is. There he is.
I hear my father say, “She found the pictures. My wife. She knew I wouldn’t have let Arya leave without a good reason. So you got what you wanted in the end, didn’t you? I’m fucking ruined! I’m not going down alone, though.”
Damian is looking at my father, but his gaze travels to me and fills with stark fear. Denial. And in rushes the madness, turning his eyes all but black. “Arya!” Damian bellows. “Get out of here. No. NO!”
But I can’t stop running.
I would have died when I was fourteen if it wasn’t for this man.
Or when I was fifteen. Sixteen.
He’s devoted his whole life to protecting me, giving me a place to call home, and I love him. I’ve loved him since I was six, even if that love has evolved drastically over time. I wish I had time to tell him all of this, but my father is already raising the gun, pointing it at Damian. His men are too confused by his yell to notice my father, though some of them are becoming aware and drawing their own weapons, too slowly, though. Too slow.
