Page 31 of Promises in the Dark

“Pretty much, yes,” I confirmed, blunt as hell.

Through the cracks in the wall, I spotted a group of Taliban bastards. My eyes narrowed as I saw them dragging a woman across the ground, her cries slicing through the night air. They rained punches down on her, the sickening sound of fists on flesh filling the silence.

“Oh god...” Red whispered, her voice quaking.

Blood gushed through the air, splattering against the ground in thick streaks of crimson. It was a fucking massacre. I could barely stand there and watch, my muscles tight enough to snap a steel bar.

I wanted to charge in and rip those Taliban assholes apart, bone by bone, but I knew it’d be a suicide mission for both of us. I had no weapon, no hope in hell of taking on all those dirtbags by myself.

I held Red tightly in my arms, my arms wrapped around her like a motherfucking bear hug, not because I cared, but because I wanted to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere.

That was just a lie I told myself to make me feel better.

My arms were locked around her, fingers digging into her skin like I could squeeze the life out of her if I had to. The only play was to stay hidden like rats, hoping the predator didn’t find us.

“If you make one sound, we’re both dead. Got it?”

Her eyes widened in terror, but she nodded, her head bouncing against my chest like a pinball.

The adrenaline was rushing through my bloodstream like a junkie doing a line, making my heart pound like a drum in a sleazy strip club.

I could feel her heartbeat too, thumping against my chest like a second heart, keeping time with mine. Her soft, supple skin, the way her hips gently swayed against my groin, how her breath hitched as we huddled together—it was fucked up how right it felt in the middle of this nightmare.

Shit.

The world was on fire, but with her in my arms, everything just felt... right.

Okay, back to fucking Earth.

We had to stay hidden, stay quiet, and hope like hell those Taliban fuckers didn’t sniff us out. We were knee-deep in shit, and it was only gonna get worse.

I strained to make out the guttural bullshit they were spewing. It was just noise to me, but then something clicked. Something in their tone sent a chill up my spine.

I glanced at Red. Her eyes were wide, and I knew she had questions, but before she could say a damn word, I pressed a finger to her lips, shutting her up.

One of those sick bastards snatched up a stack of books and hurled them at the woman. The pieces clicked in my head, and my blood ran ice-cold as I realized what the fuck was happening. These twisted assholes were killing her for the crime of reading. Fucking reading. The books—symbols of knowledge, freedom—were enough to make these depraved wankers lose their shit. Words on a page, ideas that challenged their pathetic, backward world—they couldn’t handle it. In their warped minds, that was worth a death sentence.

My grip tightened on Red as I fought to suppress the guttural growl of fury that rose in my throat. She shivered beside me, her body trembling in terror like a bird fluttering its wings. I clamped my hand over her mouth, muffling any sound that might slip out, silently pleading for her to keep her shit together. My heart was hammering so loud it felt like it’d burst out of my chest. I wasn’t just scared for her; I was fucking terrified for both of us.

As the night swallowed the streets, a few clueless pricks strolled by, heads down, pretending the shitshow unfolding right in front of them didn’t exist. It was a goddamn massacre, and not one of those fucking cowards had the balls to step in and stop it.

Just as I was about to lose my shit, one of those Taliban fuckers raised his gun. Time slowed the fuck down as my eyes locked onto the barrel. I knew what was coming, and there was not a thing I could do to stop it.

A deafening crack tore through the air as the bullet blasted out of the barrel, slicing through the darkness with a deadly intent. The woman’s head jerked back, a spray of crimson painting the night, and everything inside me shattered. The shock, the horror, the raw injustice of it all.

Red tensed against me, holding back her sobs, but I could feel her warm tears soaking the niqab I’d forced on her. Thefabric clung to my hand as I still covered her mouth, her tears seeping through. She pressed herself closer, and all I could think was how badly I wanted to shield her from this fucked-up world, even though I knew I couldn’t.

For a fleeting moment, something hit me. Something I didn’t want to acknowledge. Vulnerability. Weakness. I wasn’t supposed to feel that shit. I was a stone-cold motherfucker, and I didn’t do emotions. The tears on her face were making me feel things I didn’t want to feel, things I couldn’t fucking afford to show. Fuck that. I wasn’t about to turn into some sentimental bitch.

Emotions like that were for wimps.

I didn’t need anyone.

I didn’t want anyone.

But I wanted Red. And I fucking hated it.

I watched in disbelief as those sick fucks left the woman’s lifeless body behind, treating her like a piece of trash. I’ve seen too much of this fucked-up world to let it break me. I might be damaged, but I was not broken. I’ve fought too hard to let this shit take me down.

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