Bullet ✔️

Chapter 31

"I need you to be strong in there, Isabelle," he said, no trace at all of the coldness I'd heard as he talked to his best friend on the phone. "No matter what happens, don't let him get into your head, and don't cry until we're out again, no matter what we find in there."

With a growing lump in my throat and lead in my stomach, I nodded. "I'll try," I replied. I didn't recognize my own voice.

"That's all I ask." He got up, leaned in to kiss my cheek quickly, before he held his hand out to help me out.

My legs were like jello; with every step I took, they shook more and more, until eventually I just stopped and had to take a deep breath. I still had time to compose myself. I still had time to believe he was okay, unhurt and happy to see me walk in. I still had time to push out the images my mind had created of his battered face, his bruised skin and the gunshots in his torso. There was still time.

Damian pulled me into his embrace, and I felt him sniff my hair, as if he too had to take a moment and remember there was still time. My mystery man; the stone cold killer and mafia boss. He had feelings, like everyone else, and right then and there we were all right. For just a moment, we were fine, and my dad inside the worn down building was like Schrödinger's cat.

I took a step back, deeming it long enough of a distraction. We had to go before it was too late. Damian put his hand around my neck, and I felt the cold metal of his gun against my skin. He didn't say anything, but his eyes were different, and as I looked deeply into them I knew what he wanted to tell me; that it would be okay, we would figure it out, and he promised me he'd do everything he could to get a good outcome. If it was only my imagination that made up his silent words, I didn't care.

He leaned in, his forehead touching mine as he exhaled, before I got up on my toes to kiss him. My hands held onto his shirt, pulling him in for one last confidence boost as my gun rested against his chest.

I never, in a million years, thought I'd ever kiss a man until my toes curled while we were both holding loaded guns, about to enter a building probably full of bad, dangerous people to rescue my father from being murdered. It was this kind of stuff I'd read on the backs of Elina's preferred books, and maybe that was when I understood why she liked it—if she read about it, it was fantasy, but when she shut the book it was her reality. Every. Damn. Day.

I melted into our kiss, holding onto him for dear life, fighting and losing a battle against my tears as they slid down my cheeks. I was breathless when he pulled back, a thumb going across my cheeks in turn to wipe away the streaks. "It's time." His whisper settled deep in my spine, giving me chills.

He was right, of course, so I nodded and turned around, facing the building. The concrete told me the building wasn't old and abandoned as we got closer—it was new, in construction. Damian grabbed my hand, holding his gun in his left one, and as I thought that was a stupid thing to do, I remembered who he was. He could probably pistol-whip three guys while simultaneously shooting four or five, all while holding my hand.

I didn't react to the screeching sound of tires behind us. Damian looked back with a tight nod, confirming that it was one of our friends, before he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was dark. And silent. I could hear the echoes of our footsteps as we walked around the empty first floor. There was nothing there but a few cords and power tools laid around, and a pile of wood by one of the far walls. I could barely make out the silhouettes in the night. Damian tugged my hand through the room, guiding me towards a dim light that looked to come from a staircase.

We climbed the stairs, peeked out into the emptiness on each floor, seeing and hearing nothing. Not until we reached the fifth floor and there were footsteps above us. Damian's fingers closed tighter around mine, keeping me close, like he didn't want to lose me inside this orderly chaos. None of us knew what was waiting on the sixth floor. None of us knew what would happen when we climbed the last set of stairs and opened the door, but I knew we had to do it soon.