The Last Page

PROLOGUE

Hers.

I heard the last gunshot ring through the bar. It was unusual for a shootout in a bar so far from the city. But here we were. I saw the last woman fall to the ground, the one laughing too loudly. She wore a Chanel dress. Her hair was bleached dead, and the fat strap of her bra peeked from her sleeve.

I was sitting behind a bar stool under the counter. It wasn't my first time in a shootout, but it certainly wasn't less scary. I knew not to scream or make any sudden movements, but I could see the woman spluttering and twitching. She was moving for probably the last time. Shot in the chest.

I heard men shuffling and cursing before they left, as if nothing had happened. There were only 4 men, enough to take out the whole bar. With their guns.

I was alone now. Or I was the only one remaining,
So many people, so many lives, at least some of them must have had something to live for, but again, I doubted that because otherwise, they wouldn't find themselves in a bar at 2 am on a Tuesday night.

I slowly crawled out from under the bar and picked up my phone. I stood up and started walking out, dialling 911.

And that's when I was grabbed and yanked into a room. A hand pressed on my mouth.

fuck.

I was held in a tight grip, and that's when my heart rate spiked. I tried to break free, squirm away, but I was drunk.

"Please, please, please, I won't tell anyone," I say quickly, as if it was reflex, but nothing, I felt his breath behind my ear, hushing me. And I obeyed.

"Be quiet, there might be more," he whispered. And even if the sound was hushed.

I recognised it. The voice took me way back, way back into memories of him.

When he lulled me to sleep or when he verbally fucked me. I remembered that whisper. And I froze.

Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was a dream. It had to be. It can't be. Not here. Not now.

He probably noticed me going limp, his nose dug deeper behind my ear and swaying me with him. Making me more sure.

And not the years of loneliness, anger or even the 40 people dead outside the door. But him. The possibility of him made my gut swirl and my eyes water.

I heard more people go out the main door. It made sense now. The reason they shot so many people was behind me. But I wasn't sure. So I finally asked.

"Veer?" I whispered, slightly turning to the side where he was nuzzling in the side of my face, his eyes closed.
"Hmm?" he hummed, his hands loosened and wrapped around me more intimately. He was drunk, heavy drunk. The swaying, the hummed answer.

I slowly let loose, allowing him to sway me side to side in his arms.
It was him, those people were probably aiming for him; they probably hoped to shoot between his brows while killing all of them.

I could've been killed.

A few seconds passed before I regained reason. I pushed him away gently. Stumbling ahead, this wasn't good. Us together, drunk and in the same room, it was never good.

"They're all dead because of you, aren't they?" I whispered, turning to face him.

And right on queue, we heard footsteps coming towards the door.

He pulled and pushed me behind him, covering me with his large body. He reached to his waist where his gun resided, loaded, I hoped.

He aimed at the door, waiting for it to open.
I was seeing him after what, 8 years? So much had changed. Not only with me but with him too, physically at least.

He was taller, had a damn burrito back, his shoulders were large and his posture was fixed. And I won't even talk about his as-

He was tanned and his hair was dyed a honey blonde colour.
I liked it, it was surprising but...
Everything was surprising.
The little, cute boy had morphed into a tall, handsome man. The door bashed open, and before I could even see men coming in, I heard shots being fired. Multiple shots. Gunshots. I covered my ears.

"Stay behind me!" he yelled, and so I did. Within mere seconds, the shots stopped.

He immediately turned around,
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" he asked, hurriedly. I nodded, too stunned to say anything.

"We have to get out of here," he whispered. Out the back door, we kept running until we reached the road. I looked at him, he was already looking at me. His honey brown eyes were shot red because of the liquor.

Before I could catch a breath, he tackled me in a hug. A heavy and tight one.

"I almost didn't recognise you," he said. I slowly hugged him back.

Yeah, sometimes I didn't recognise myself either.
Parts of me that I wished were different back then are different now. My hair was a beautiful orange instead of my natural brown. I always wished to be a redhead. And now I was.

"How are you?" he asked, breaking from the hug.

C'mon, say something!

"I'm good, how are you?" I asked, holding him by the arm so he didn't trip and fall. The man was drunk as hell.

"I'm...." he trailed off. And I didn't ask again.
Adrenaline and alcohol are rushing through our bodies.

"Uhm, should I drop you off somewhere?" I asked, and he chuckled.

"No, no, don't drop me off," he said, sliding down and sitting on the pathway. Mumbling something to himself.

I took a deep breath,
I shouldn't. I wouldn't. But I couldn't leave him here. I knew for a fact that he didn't have an apartment or a flat in town. He never did; he was always on the run.

I booked a cab on my cell phone. wiping the blood off me with my dark fur coat. The cab was 10 minutes away when I kneeled beside him and tilted his chin towards me, meeting his eyes again. I slowly wipe the blood off his face with my sleeve.

"Hey, we're gonna remove the shirt, okay?" I asked softly. He nodded and removed the suit jacket. I saw all the blood and shuddered, knowing none of it was his own.

I helped him unbutton his shirt, each button revealed his toned chest. I tried my best not to look but what did he eat? His abs were hard and toned, fuck- What am I doing?

I shoved the bloodied shirt in my purse while he pulled the jacket onto himself again.

Before any unnecessary small talk. The cab arrived, I gave him the Authorization code, and silently put this beautiful man in the back seat before joining him.

What the fuck am I doing.