A Devil With A Halo

Chapter 3

A clang echoed off the walls of the narrow alley, ripping him out of his deep thoughts. His head snapped toward the sound, brows furrowing.

Something wasn't right! 

“Who’s there?” His voice cracked, trembling. Nothing but cursive graffiti sprawled across the grimy walls answered him.

But then something else made itself known.

Shadows. Big. Bulky. Moving.

He didn’t want to stay long enough to meet their owners. Not when his cover couldn’t be blown. Not now.

He ran.

Gunshots along with rough voices echoed through the alleys barking orders.

Don’t think. Just run.

But pain bloomed in his side, hot and sharp. 

Blood seeped through his shirt. 

He gritted his teeth, inhaling through the pain.

He couldn’t slow down. If he did, he was dead.

That's when he finally saw her. A figure in the distance, standing in front of a house like a vision. 

A saviour sent from heaven. 

He pushed his legs harder, faster, lungs screaming for air.

She rummaged through her bag, looking for the key, her frustration delaying her, when she heard shouting. It prickled at her instincts. 

Too close.

Her fingers finally brushed metal. She pulled the key free, shoved it into the lock—

And the door flew wide open.

Before she could go in, the persistent sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention. A figure zoomed past her, shoving her along into the gigantic house as he slammed the door shut behind them. 

He slumped against it with a huge sigh, chest heaving. Relief was evident on his features not realizing he’d just stumbled into the lion’s den.

Andromeda had the biggest smirk on her face. But it couldn't rival his smirk as he pushed a gun into her hands. "Help me,” He wheezed with a strained voice. “Or be the killer,"

In one swift move, she had him with his cheek against the floor, his hands in her iron grasp behind his back. He hissed as his injuries made themselves known. 

"What makes you think I'm not already one?" She whispered, her breath almost tingling against his ears. She wanted to taunt him but she decided against the idea. It wasn't like she was going to keep him breathing for long. 

His body went suddenly limp. 

Not an ounce of resistance making her brows furrow. 

A puddle of deep red was already forming a protective circle around them. Familiarity engulfed her as her nostrils were filled with the rustic smell of blood. 

It was almost comforting.

Her gaze flicked lower…

A tattoo.

Her smirk returned.

The Navarros’ mark.

Her mission just got easier.

She rolled her eyes, the bastard had to faint on her floor. 

She sighed, dragging his heavy frame toward the bathroom. She wasn't about to dirty her sheets! 

Muscles, hidden under his hoodie, made him far heavier than he looked.

She dropped him with a thud.

The gun he had given her still rested in her hand. She weighed it, tested the chamber.

Empty.

A laugh slipped from her lips as she gazed at the unconscious body. “Idiot.”

By the time she cleaned his wound and dragged him to bed, his skin was pale, drenched in sweat. His body shivered under the fever.

She sat beside him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead, eyes studying him.

“Who are you?” she muttered.

He didn’t look like a commander. Probably not someone high in Navarro ranks. But he still could prove useful. Or was it a trap?

His dark hair stuck to his  forehead in a messy lump, his skin so pale and cold like the moon, his lips slightly parted.

He looked dead.

Shivers started running through his body with the increasing ferocity of the sweat. But she didn't wait for a miracle, she knew exactly what to do. 

After all… she'd been in his position too many times.