Page 4 of Blade's Runaway Bride
He guides me toward the back, where stacked pallets create a sort of alcove.
"Stay here. Don't move. Don't make a sound."
"You're leaving me?" Panic edges into my voice.
His dark eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I see something flicker in their depths, something alive and dangerous. "I'm going to deal with the problem."
"They'll kill you," I say, though I'm not sure why I care. He's a stranger. A dangerous one at that.
The corner of his mouth twitches. Not quite a smile, but something close to amusement. "They can try."
He turns to go, but I grab his arm. "Wait. What's your name?"
He pauses, looking down at my hand on his leather sleeve. For a moment, I think he won't answer.
"Blade," he finally says.
"Is that your real name?"
"It's the only one that matters."
With that, he pulls away, moving silently toward the entrance. I watch as he positions himself in the shadows beside the door, gun ready, body coiled like a predator preparing to strike.
I should be terrified, and I am, but not just of the Vultures MC. There's something about the calm, calculating way Blade prepares for violence that sends a different kind of shiver through me. He's not nervous or afraid. He's in his element.
Minutes pass in agonizing silence. I strain to hear anything beyond the rapid beating of my own heart. Then, faintly, the crunch of tires on gravel reaches my ears. Car doors open and close. Voices murmur outside, using the same crude language I've come to dread over the past months.
I sink deeper into my hiding place, pressing my back against the cold wall. My wedding dress glows faintly in the darkness, a beacon I desperately wish I could extinguish. I gather the fabric as tightly as possible, trying to make myself smaller, invisible.
The warehouse door creaks open.
Flashlight beams cut through the darkness, sweeping across the floor and walls. I hold my breath, fighting the urge to run. Running is what got me into this mess. Running is what they'll expect.
"Come out, come out, little bride," a voice calls in. "Mike is very disappointed. The wedding guests are waiting."
A second voice laughs. "He promises not to hurt you... much. Well, not until after he fucks you in front of everyone."
I close my eyes, pressing my fist against my mouth to stifle a whimper. Images of what awaits me if they take me back flash through my mind. Mike's cruel smile, the "ceremony" that would be nothing more than a prelude to claim and ownership, my sister Amy watching with empty eyes as they drag me away.
The footsteps and flashlight beams separate, the Vultures MC spreading out to search the warehouse. They're getting closer to my hiding spot. It's only a matter of time before they find me.
Then, from the darkness, Blade makes his move.
I see him emerge from the shadows like a demon from hell, silent and deadly. The first man doesn't even hear him coming. Blade's arm shoots out, grabbing the man by his hair and slamming his face into a metal support beam with a sickening crunch. Blood sprays across the concrete as the man's nose shatters. Before he can scream, Blade spins him around, one massive hand clamping over his mouth while the other wraps around his throat.
I should look away. I know I should. But I can't tear my eyes from the scene.
The man claws at Blade's forearms, his eyes bulging in terror as those powerful fingers crush his windpipe. There's no emotion on Blade's face. No rage, no satisfaction, not even concentration. Just cold, mechanical efficiency. He might as well be taking out the trash.
I watch as the enemy struggles weaken, his face turning purple, legs kicking uselessly. Blade doesn't flinch, doesn't loosen his grip even when the man pisses himself, dark liquid running down his pant leg to puddle on the floor.
Jesus Christ. I'm watching a man get choked to death, and I can't look away.
The second man calls out, "Daniel? Where the fuck are you?"
Blade lets the now-limp body slide to the floor, not even sparing it a second glance as he moves toward his next target. The remaining enemy comes around a stack of crates, flashlight beam wobbling as he walks. When the light catches Blade's face, the man freezes for a split second—just long enough for Blade to close the distance between them.
"Shit—" is all he manages before Blade's fist connects with his jaw, the impact so hard I can hear teeth crack from my hiding spot.
