Page 13 of Savage Assassin

What do I do if it’s not him? I don’t have a weapon. I don’t think I could punch anyone. I know I should go down the trapdoor and out into the escape, but if I go alone, what then? Without Levin, I have no idea where I’m meant to go after I emerge. Only he knows the rest of the plan–I just knew that I was supposed to go with him.

A shape lunges from around the tall shelf, burly and male, and I know in an instant that it’s not Levin. I scream, staggering backward, away from the trapdoor in hopes that he won’t notice the escape route, that I can somehow–

Somehow what? Where is Levin? Is he dead already? What kind of protector did they send if he’s already–

The man is lurching towards me, a cruel smile twisting his mouth as he reaches out, his eyes dark with violence and lust. “Come here, pretty bird,” he growls, his tongue running over his lower lip. “Boss says you come back untouched, but I think I can have a taste–”

Memories of José’s attack flood me, turning my blood to ice, and I fumble numbly behind me for something, anything to use as a weapon. Anything to keep this man’s hands off of me, to give me just a moment to escape–

My hand closes around a wine bottle, and I bring it forward, smashing it hard against the side of the man’s face. He yowls in shock and pain, and before he can recover, I grab for another one, smashing it just as hard as I push past him, running back for the trapdoor. All thoughts of waiting for Levin are forgotten, and all I can think is that I have to get out. That I have to get away.

The man rounds the corner after me, face bleeding with shards of glass stuck in his face as he shouts incoherently at me, reeling. Terrified, I grab for another bottle, darting backward as I throw it directly towards his head.

The bottle shatters against his arms as he throws them up, liquid splashing across the floor. I watch in horrified fascination as he slips, crashing to the ground with an awful sound as he lands on shattered glass.

I don’t wait to see what happens next. I turn and bolt for the trapdoor, adrenaline flooding me–and then I hear another gunshot behind me.

Quickly, I pivot, darting into one of the rows of shelves as I grab for another bottle of wine in each hand. Holding them aloft, ready to fling, I round the corner, only to hear a familiar voice call out to me.

“Elena! Stop, it’s me!”

My entire body is shaking. I freeze in place the instant I hear Levin’s voice, and I can’t move, relief flooding me as I see him step over the now-dead body of the man who had attacked me, striding towards me quickly.

“Easy there,” he says in that same calm and soothing tone, reaching for the bottles in my hands. He takes them away, turning one so he can see the label. He grins down at me.

“That’s a rare vintage right there. Can’t go breaking that over anyone’s head.”

Something about the combination of the easy smile on his face in the midst of so much chaos and the joke breaks something loose in me. I feel myself go limp, my muscles giving way as my knees turn to water, and I start to sink to the floor.

“Hey! Easy there.”

He reaches for me instantly, scooping me up with one arm as he holds the gun in his other hand, glancing behind us. “Let’s go. We’re almost out.”

“My parents–”

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But your father is a tough man, Elena, and a brave one. I’m sure he’s doing his best to stay safe and keep your mother safe too.”

It’s not exactly reassurance, but I find to my surprise, that I appreciate it. He’s not lying to me, not pretending that everything is fine when it very well could not be. He’d delivered the truth in the easiest way possible, and I look up at him, feeling soothed despite myself.

“You can put me down,” I tell him, as calmly as I can manage. “I can walk. I’m fine. I just had a moment, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” He’s already backing towards the trapdoor, gun still half-raised, ready to shoot at any moment. “I can carry you. It’s no trouble.”

Of course, it’s not.I can feel how strong he is, his muscled arm wrapped around me, holding me against his chest as if I were a feather. Truthfully, I want nothing more than to curl against him, to hide my face in his shirt and block everything out. He smells of warm skin, clean laundry, and the hint of a salty, citrusy cologne that lights a spark somewhere deep inside of me, one that I don’t have the time or energy to investigate too closely.

But I also don’t want to be the damsel in distress, carried out of danger. I want to stand on my own two feet.

My sister was brave enough to fight back against Diego Gonzalez, against the bride tamer, against every expectation held for her. I can be brave enough to walk out of here on my own.

“I’m sure,” I manage, and Levin hesitates briefly, then nods.

“Far be it from me to tell you what to do,” he says with a half-grin, as he nods towards the trapdoor. “Go. Get a headstart, and I’ll follow, make sure no one is coming after us.”

I swallow hard, moving quickly towards it. I undo the latch, hauling it up as I grab the ladder, scaling it downwards as fast as I can without falling. I’ve always hated ladders and had very few occasions to be on one, except when I needed a book from a very high shelf in the library–and those ladders are attached much better than this one is.

I don’t feel as if I can breathe again until I get to the bottom. When my feet hit hard ground, I back up, watching for Levin to descend after me. I see him at the mouth of the trapdoor a moment later, glancing back once more before he starts to follow me down.

We’re alright. We must be.

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