She doesn't believe me. She pulls the collar of my jacket back, gasping when she sees the wound. Without a word, she strips off her own outer layer and presses the fabric against my shoulder, her hands shaking but determined as she applies pressure. I watch her, distracted by the way her brow furrows in concentration, momentarily forgetting the chaos erupting around us.
Then I hear the crunch of footsteps nearby.
"On my mark," I say, gripping her arm to get her attention. "When I say go, you run. You run straight for the tree line and you don't look back."
She stares at me, her eyes widening in disbelief. "What? No."
"Iris, listen to me—"
"No!" she hisses, shaking her head violently. She grips the front of my shirt, her knuckles turning white. "I am not leaving you here. I'm not going anywhere without you, so don't even think about it."
I look at her. In the middle of a gunfight, with death closing in on us, she is arguing with me. She is terrified, shaking like a leaf, yet she refuses to abandon me.
"You're stubborn," I mutter, though I can't hide the rough admiration in my voice.
"I have a heart," she counters, her voice cracking. "There's a difference."
The noise of the gunfire seems to fade into the background as we stare at each other. The adrenaline is still pumping through my veins, but beneath it, there is something else. A magnetic pull that feels heavier than the danger surrounding us.
She doesn't look away. Her gaze drops to my lips, then back up to my eyes, searching for something. I raise my good hand, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. She leans into my touch, her breath hitching in her throat.
"I don't understand you," she whispers, her eyes searching mine. "You terrify me with your obsession, looming over me and threatening the world like a deranged lunatic, but then you willingly let yourself be torn apart just to ensure I don't feel a single flicker of pain. It makes no sense that you are the monsterI should be running from, yet you are the only one willing to bleed just to keep me safe."
I hold her gaze, my thumb tracing the curve of her jaw. "Maybe I am both. Maybe the only thing strong enough to protect you from the horrors of this world is a madness like mine. You can call me a lunatic, you can call me a monster, but don't ever doubt that I would bleed a thousand times over before I let a single drop of your blood hit the ground. If being your nightmare is the price of being your shield, then I will gladly haunt you until the end of time."
The space between us vanishes. I lean in slowly, giving her a chance to pull away, but she doesn't. She closes the distance, pressing her lips against mine.
It isn't a desperate, hurried kiss. It is slow, firm, and possessive. I kiss her like I need the air from her lungs to survive, and she kisses me back with the same intensity, her hands tangling in my shirt. For a few seconds, we aren't hunted animals; we are just two people desperate to feel alive.
When we break apart, we are both breathless.
"If we make it out of here," she says, her forehead resting against mine, "I'll be yours, so please live for me."
"We will make it out," I promise, and for the first time in a long time, I actually care if I live or die. I check my gun. Empty. "We need to move," I say, helping her up. "Stay close to me."
We move quickly, and before long, we’re out of the pastures and inside the woods. I keep moving with precision as I calculate the safest route to the car. We can’t just go back out, we’d just be moving target for them to play with. My shoulder throbs with every step, a dull, aching rhythm, but I push it down. We walk until the trees begin to thin, revealing the cracked asphalt of an old service road.
I pull out my phone, hoping for a miracle, but the screen remains blank.
"No signal," I mutter, shoving it back into my pocket.
I think back to that troublesome woman Iris calls her friend. She’d better stay safe for Iris.
"Mine is dead too," she says, checking hers. It would take at least a couple of hours before my men would think to look for me. Meaning we are on our own right now. No backup. No way to call for help.
We’re completely isolated. I hear the rustle a second before it happens. My instincts scream at me to move. I spin around, reaching for my knife since my gun is useless, but I am too slow.
Bang. Bang.
Two shots ring out from the tree line. I duck, trying to shield her, but they aren't aiming for me yet. "Iris!" I shout, reaching for her. But she is already gone.
A man I recognize as Roman steps out from the trees. His white T-shirt and black cargo pants stained, he probably laid on the ground with them. The bastard is good. That’s how he’s been able to shoot without getting hit.
He has one arm wrapped tightly around her neck, a knife pressed dangerously close to her throat.
Behind him stands a man with identical features and clothes to him, pointing a gun directly at my chest. They were grown men for christ’s sake. Why are you still dressing alike? Your face is enough to know you’re twins.
"Whew," Roman says, a smirk playing on his lips as he tightens his grip on her. "You are one hard man to kill." I freeze. Every muscle in my body locks up. I could take the twin. I could take the bullet. But I can't risk Roman slicing her throat.
