Venom

011

"Stay down!" Dean shouted, putting his hand on Helen's nape and pushing her down in a crouch. He took out the small gun he always brought with him.

Helen gave him a quick look. "Where did you get that?" she asked, the shouts and shots making it hard for her to hear.

"My pants. Now move," he said, pressing his palm on her back and leading her towards the long tables. They hid behind one, and he hoped the shooters couldn't see them. "What the fuck is going on?" he wondered aloud.

The Viper wasn't too scared. She'd taken part to many shootings in the last three years. She'd caused most of them, too. But Helen Grace Donovan would be scared, so she put on her best act once more. "Dean, what's happening?" she asked, trying to get closer to him.

"I don't know. You'll be fine, okay? I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise," he said, holding her as close as he could. The screams were so fucking loud he had to shout the words.

"What promise?"

"That I wouldn't put you in danger. But I'll make you another promise now. I will never let anyone hurt you." He meant it. She was precious. For some reason, she was. And he wanted to keep her safe. Even if... yes, even if that meant leaving her one day to ensure her safety.

Helen nodded, forcing a smile. Dean was keeping the gun in his hands, looking around the room to see if anyone had seen them. They had to get out of there. She had to find a way. When her eyes focused on the indoor balcony, she wasn't pleased with what she found. One of the shooters was there, pointing straight at her and Dean, who hadn't seen the person. Okay, you know what, fuck the act. Her life was more important. She wouldn't die this way.

Helen threw herself at Dean and gripped his hands, holding the gun with his fingers, but her lead. She pointed the gun barrel at the person, and before they could pull the trigger, she pressed Dean's finger, the bullet perfectly hitting the center of the shooter's brows. It had all happened in just a few seconds.

Dean was staring at her astonished. "What the-" but before he could speak, she was already pushing him towards the gallery. She was undercover, but her habits didn't change. When she'd stepped in the room, she'd searched for possible escape passages, and it had been so easy to find one in the gallery. The emergency exit doors. So, so easy.

"Go," she ordered him. And he followed. Through the chaos, they eventually reached the room. They ran towards the doors and got out. New York was cold and dark. To her surprise, when she shivered, he didn't offer her his jacket. "Where's the car?" she asked, the gun now in her hands. He only glanced at the weapon.

"Down there. I never leave it in front of the main entrance."

"Smart."

"Move."

Why was he being so rude? Maybe he was just angry because their night had been ruined. She had no idea. But she followed him and got in his car, which he immediately started, driving away as fast as he could.

"Helen," he called her, and she immediately turned to him. He stretched out a hand. "The gun."

Helen frowned, then remembered she still had the weapon. "Oh, yeah, sure." She handed it to him.

After that, Dean didn't say a word. His face hard and tight. Helen looked at him, trying to understand what was going on with him.

Helen swallowed. "Dean, are you alright?" she carefully asked. He kept his eyes on the street and said nothing, gripping the wheel as if he was imagining it was someone's neck. Maybe Isaac's.

Helen didn't push it, and moved her focus outside the window. Though, she realized something. "Dean? This is not the way to my apartment," she pointed out, glancing at him with a frown. What was going on?