Page 26 of The Pakhan's Kidnapped Bride
Am I the reason we’re being shot at? Was Emmanuil right? I can’t be the reason someone gets killed at the mall. I can’t live with myself if that happens.
I have to lure these attackers away.
I push away from the pillar, but just as I’m about to make a sprint for the door, hoping to draw the attention of the other gunmen away from the civilians, Emmanuil grabs my arm and drags me back to his side.
“Don’t be stupid,” he shouts.
“I don’t want anyone else hurt,” I shout back. A bullet smacks into the side of the pillar, spraying shards of marble into the air, tiny splinters of it stinging against my cheek. Emmanuil moves quickly to cover my face with his arm.
“Just do as I say. Stay close,” he demands.
I press closer to him, his scent washing over me. He feels safe amidst the chaos. It feels like he would protect me fromanything, like he never stopped loving me, like he would make sure nothing bad ever happened to me.
But that’s all in my head. He’s just doing what he has to do to keep us both safe. This isn’t about love.
I’ve never been shot at before. I’ve never been in danger like this before.
It’s terrifying—and thrilling.
My anxiety is bubbling over, but I can’t help being caught up in the excitement of it.Is it wrong to feel that way?
I probably wouldn’t if I were here alone. Emmanuil is so capable, so in control. When I glance up at him, and for a second, our eyes lock, he looks calm.
“One is dead. Two of them are going to need to change clips soon. That leaves one man actively shooting—that’s when we run,” he says.
I nod. “I’ll do whatever you say,” I answer quickly.
He rolls his eyes. And even in this tense situation, I can’t help but grin.
Another bullet smacks into the tiled floor at my feet. I jump in fright.
This is the reason Kristopher kept me under tight supervision at home in Phoenix. This is the reason I was never allowed to go to the malls in our own city, and whenever I went on vacation, it had to be far away, where no one would ever know who I was. I understood why he kept me under lock and key, but it always drove me crazy. It seemed excessive and unnecessary. I guess it wasn’t.
Right now, for some reason, huddled behind a pillar in the middle of a gun battle, I feel freer than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.
Stuck in the middle of a moment I’ve spent my entire life being protected from—I feel alive.
“Now,” Emmanuil shouts, grabbing my arm and pulling me with him.
He makes sure to keep his body between mine and the gunmen, shielding me as he shoots towards them, providing us the cover fire we need to make it to the next pillar, then the next, and finally out into the parking area.
He doesn’t let me stop running. He has me half lifted off the ground, practically carrying me towards the car. He runs much faster than me.
Emmanuil shoves me in and climbs in after me, not wasting a single moment before he’s tail-spinning out of the parking area and into the road.
My adrenaline is racing.
My eyes are locked on the road behind us.
“They’re not following,” he says, out of breath, his jaw set firmly. Tires screech against tar.
I bite my lower lip, pressing my hand over my heart to try and soothe it.
“That was…” I pause, searching for the right word, not wanting to sound like I might have enjoyed it. “That was intense,” I say, finally.
“Are you hurt?” he asks, glancing at me.
His brows shoot up in horror, and I scrunch my nose, confused. “What?”
