Subdue-X

Victory Dressed In Defeat

Christian's eyes glowed in the fading sunlight, but it wasn't the kind of glow that warmed you-it was one that sent a chill through my bones. He was enraged, and I could see the fury ripple through him as he took in the scene: me, speeding toward him with the luggage train rattling behind, and three airport security guards hot on my trail. The golf cart wasn't fast enough to lose them, and my heart was in my throat as I tried to figure out a way out of this mess.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, my pulse pounding in my ears. Anxiety clawed up my spine, settling in my neck, making my muscles ache. I'd screwed up. I dragged civilians into a situation that had no business touching them. Stupid.

I stepped away from the cart. My chest forced the air from my lungs as I tried to catch my breath. Christian stood a few yards away, the jet behind him like a silent reminder of everything that was on the line. His face was nearly purple with rage, his free hand rubbing the tension in his jaw as he hunched forward, elbows on his knees.

"Fuck!" he yelled, the word slicing through the growing darkness.

I didn't know who I should fear more-the enemy we were to stop from flying the jet or him. His eyes were dark, calculating. My stomach twisted with a sickening mix of heat and fear as the sticky humidity clung to my skin, making it harder to breathe. The wind whipped my hair into a knotty mess, but I didn't care. How could I? There was a very real chance neither of us would survive the night.

Behind Christian, two men from the private jet were making their way across the tarmac, their hands hidden in their waistbands. My gut churned. I turned back to see the three airport security guards closing in. What the hell had I done?

I staggered out of the cart, my legs wobbling as I raised my hands, desperate to stop this before more blood was shed. "You guys have to go," I stammered, my voice trembling with fear and guilt.

One of them-his face pale, sweat dripping down his temple-stepped forward. "We're going, but you're coming with us," he said, breathless.

"No!" I shook my head, panic gripping my throat. "That's not an option." I couldn't let them get involved. But it was too late.

The gunfire erupted before I could get another word out. Christian grabbed me by the shoulders, yanking me behind a metal supply bin as bullets flew past us, the harsh crack of gunshots ringing in my ears. My heart pounded, my breath catching in my throat as I crouched low. The enemy was close by now-two men from the jet, well-armed and not hesitant to shoot.

I glanced back to see the security guards wide-eyed and panicked. Christian's face was hard as stone, but I could see the rage simmering beneath the surface, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. He was weighing the cost of this mess, and I knew that, in his eyes, I was to blame.

More gunfire rang out. One of the security guards made a break for it, trying to cross the open space between us and another wall of cover. He didn't make it. The bullet hit him square in the head, and he crumpled to the ground in a sickening heap.

"Fuck!" I gasped, my hands trembling as I tried to hold onto the edge of the bin. Christian kept his eyes locked on the advancing enemies, his jaw set in grim determination.

The second guard-God help him-wasn't thinking clearly. I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him back into cover. "Don't!" I shouted. "Stay down!"

But he was too far gone, his panic overriding any sense of self-preservation. He broke free from my grip, running straight into the open. The bullets tore through him, one after another, until he collapsed on the concrete. Blood leaking from his lips opened in a silent scream.

I stumbled back, my hands hitting the hot pavement as I tried to steady myself. Christian's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered with something-shock, maybe? Or resignation? He barely glanced at the bodies on the ground.