Arranged to Him

To Death Do us Part

"I won't hurt you, don't worry. If anything, you will be glad you met me." He said creepily.

"No. James will be upset if he finds out I didn't listen. Please..." I tried to fight him harder, but one of his butlers came beside me, grabbing my other arm.

"Relax, love, we are here to help." The large black man assured me. I tried to breathe and failed horribly, feeling like the oxygen had left the room.

"Please, I need James," I begged, sorely regretting the copious amounts of alcohol I had drank while waiting.

"James? James is a horrible excuse for a human being. You deserve better. Stop fighting me. AGH. Let's take her to the room and let her calm down." Martin said, the two men lifting me off the floor so I couldn't keep fighting them, carrying me between them into a room that looked like an office and was filled with computers. James was at one and jumped up, surprised at the intrusion.

"What are you doing to her?" James asked, angry in a split second and leaving his hacking mid-download to help me.

"She's fine. I would stay back if I were you. What are you doing here?" Martin asked, both him and the butler pulling out guns and pointing them at James, the mood shifting into a deathly tension in a flash.

"Stop, James. I am okay." I said frantically as he ignored them and kept coming towards them. Martin cocked his gun.

"If you hurt her, you are dead. I will stop at nothing to destroy you. She is mine." James said, his eyes flashing dangerously. Martin seemed surprised at his aggression and looked to the butler, but I didn't hesitate. I used their distraction as a way to break free and twist away from them.

I ran like my life depended on it because it did, and James followed suit, dashing out behind me before Martin could recover.

"The fuck." James yelled as they started shooting at him.

I screamed. A bullet bounced off the wall and hit my leg, and I fell with a sharp crash into the marble floor.

We were dead. They would kill us, and it was all my fault; I couldn't hold Martin off.

"Fuck. Anaya." James yelled, stopping and leaning over me. They were catching up to us, and there was no way he could escape and carry me at the same time.

He had never cried before, but I could see tears welling in his eyes, and he covered me with his body, protecting me without a hint of his previous mask.

This was the real him. He had told me he loved me, but I never really believed him. Not until that moment, seeing him cover me without a second thought, with his only focus on protecting me left no doubt in my mind.

"I love you." He told me again, his words carrying a meaning I finally understood.

"I love you too." I breathed, the pain in my leg meaningless, knowing our death was just a moment away.

Martin and the butler caught up to us at last, and I could see a glimpse of the guns pointed at James's head. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Kill me. It was my idea to betray you. Just do not hurt her." He said, his last request just to save me. I would have asked for the same for him, but I was terrified out of my mind and didn't have the courage to find any words. He met his death without fear.

"What in the fuck is this. I have never, in all my life..." Martin said with an irritated whisper. He didn't shoot, but the gun fell to the side as a whole host of footsteps approached, and we were fully surrounded.

"Do whatever you want to me. Just leave her, please." James said, his voice softer and with slightly more fear even as his eyes were closed tightly, waiting to be shot in the head.

"Rangholm won't believe this even if I tell him myself. Guns down, boys." Martin ordered the men who surrounded us.

"James. Stand up." James opened his eyes, and he seemed confused, but he gave me the quickest kiss on the cheek and stood up. I tried to sit up but couldn't make it more than a few inches, with my leg bleeding heavily from the wound.

James faced Martin, his face white, knowing what had to happen. He knew too much now.

"Why are you REALLY here?" Martin asked, showing great control by not shooting James the moment he stood up.

"It was all my idea, not hers. My sister vanished years ago, and her last text was to you. I just wanted to find her. I tried tracking her down, I called the police, I did everything I could to find her. You are the last person to see her alive. I just want answers." James explained carefully. Martins's eyebrows shot up, and he shared another look with the butler.

"What's her name?" He asked, surprising James.

"Evelyn."

"That name doesn't sound familiar," Martin said, confused.

"She has blond hair, brown eyes, and a small heart-shaped mole behind her ear," James said quietly.

"Isabella! Oh, she changed her name for sure. All of this for her? Are you insane?" Martin asked flabbergasted. He waved the guards away and sighed loudly, putting his gun away.

"We need a medic." He said to one of the bystanders, who nodded and ran off immediately.

He tried to move James to get to me, but James refused, standing his ground with a growl.

"Relax, I need to check her out. It looks like we hit an artery, and I don't want her to bleed out." Martin explained in a surprisingly calm and normal sound, not his normal creepy tone.

"It's fine, James," I said weakly. Martin was right, and I felt a weird mixture of drunk and weak. James noticed and spun around by my side in a split second, realizing that, for whatever reason, they didn't plan on killing us.

"Anaya. Hang on, don't go to sleep, okay?" James told me, grabbing my hand firmly. Martin used a piece of his own shirt to tie off my leg, slowing the bleeding slightly.

"I'm trying," I mumbled, the adrenaline leaving as the danger subsided.

"We can't wait. She needs a hospital now." James said, picking me up in a smooth swoop and practically running out of the mansion, leaving everyone trying to catch up.

"James. I don't feel so good." I said sleepily, my eyes heavy and closing even as I fought to stay alert.

"I'm sure you don't, Anaya. I got you. I'm so sorry." He said, sounding honestly regretful.

I hummed and drifted out of consciousness, the warmth a comforting retreat from the pain.