Page 75 of Cinderella and the Daddy
“You thought I set you up.”
“Yes.”
She looks around the apartment. “I’m ready. I’m done with this place. I’ve got what I want from here. Charles can do what he wants with the place. I won’t be back.”
I turn the handle, my mind already shifting into tactical mode.
The door swings open, and I step forward, ready to walk into whatever hell awaits me. Ready to end this once and for all.
The silencer catches the light from the hallway, a dull gleam that makes my blood turn to ice.
Time slows, the way it always does in moments like this. I can hear her gasp behind me and feel the weight of the gun I slid back into my holster when I decided she wasn’t a threat. I calculate the distance between the barrel pointed at my chest and the safety of the room behind me.
I think about her.
My child.
And then the first shot rings out.
21
CINDY
The first gunshot explodes like thunder. My world fractures into chaos. The door slams shut just as another shot rings out.
Luka moves before my brain can even process what's happening, his body slamming into mine as he tackles me to the floor. I don’t have time to register the pain in my hip from where I’ve hit the floor. He's already dragging me behind the couch.
"Stay low," he growls against my ear. His voice is deadly calm despite the violence erupting around us.
Another shot punches through the door, then another, each one accompanied by the sickening sound of wood splintering and drywall exploding into dust. I can't breathe. Can't think.
The couch is probably useless against bullets, but it's the only cover we have. Luka presses me against the floor. His heavy body suffocating me. I don’t complain. I take shallow breaths and cover my head with my hands.
Debris rains down around us. I can feel his heart hammering against my back. He shifts his weight, and the hard thing jabbing me in the side is gone.
His gun.
Thank God.
He’s armed. We’ll be okay. Luka will save us.
"How many?" I whisper, though I'm not sure why I'm whispering when they're literally shooting through the door.
"Two, maybe three," he murmurs back, his gun already in his hand. "Amateur hour. If Charles wanted us dead, he would have sent professionals."
The shooting stops abruptly, leaving behind a ringing silence that's somehow worse than the chaos. My ears are buzzing. I can taste plaster dust on my tongue. The acrid smell of gunpowder hangs in the air like a toxic cloud.
I hear a click and another shot.
"One," Luka breathes, so quietly I almost miss it.
The door is kicked open, and I hear the voices.
Another shot rings out. The bullet impacts the floor beside us. I fight the urge to scream.
“Two.” Luka murmurs.
What the fuck? Is this some kind of anxiety exercise? Really? He thinks counting to ten is going to make this situation any better?
