The Prince or the Crown

chapter fifteen

I held the gun in both hands near my thigh, my heart hammering in my throat as I carefully glanced around the corner to make sure nobody was coming. 

A gun fired in the distance, followed by a scream of terror that carried through the walls of the old palace. I used the sound to cover my footsteps, running towards the room in front of me. 

I twisted the doorknob in my grip and gently pushed it open, lifting the door to avoid the creaking of the old wood. The room was dark, and I raised my gun, cautiously closing the door behind me. I hoped they weren’t waiting for me here.

I ever so carefully used my left hand to search the wall beside me for a light switch, leaning against the concrete wall. 

As soon as I flipped the switch, light flooded the room, illuminating an old storage room. And I found myself face to face with a gun. 

BANG. 

I flinched at the sound, my ears ringing as I scrunched up my face in pain. “Ow! You could’ve at least fired from a little farther away!” 

The woman lowered her gun. “Bella?”

My eyes widened. “Charlotte? Hey! You just shot me!” I looked down at the little machine strapped to my chest, staring at the green light. 

Charlotte sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s okay. I think you missed anyway.”

She frowned at the light on my chest that hadn’t turned red. “Huh. I guess I did.”

I glanced at the number on her strap, the bright red ‘55 left’ glowing with malice. “It’s good that you didn’t,” I said, “because only five people have been shot. That would have put me right in the elimination zone.”

“Azmir would have saved you,” Charlotte assured me. 

I bit my lip in uncertainty. Ever since I’d danced with him last night, I had been worrying that the prince had lost whatever small bit of interest he’d had in me. My dancing had been boring and uninteresting; It wasn’t spicy like Charlotte’s nor bumbling like Chloe’s. It was just average. And if it came down to which five women out of the first twenty five shot he’d choose to save… I didn’t find myself high up on that list.

“Come on, Charlotte, let’s go. People have heard the gunshot and will come running,” I said, reaching for the doorknob. 

“No, no, no,” Charlotte protested. “Let them come to us. Turn the lights back off.”

I gave her an incredulous look. “You really think that’ll work?”

“Turn the lights off,” she hissed as footsteps fast approached. 

I quickly flipped off the switch and rushed to stand in front of the door. Charlotte grabbed my hand and pulled me into a kneeling position. 

As she’d expected, the door creaked open, the silhouettes of two women appearing in the doorway with guns held in front of their faces. We immediately started firing, gunshots echoing over each other as they tried to shoot us back, aiming far above our faces. 

Once their lights had flickered red, we stood up and shoved past them, running out into the hallway. 

“Please make your way back to the ballroom,” we heard their machines say as we quickly turned a corner. 

We moved efficiently down the hallway, at each other’s backs to make sure we had all angles accounted for. 

Suddenly Charlotte stopped, placing her hand against the wall and narrowing her eyes at the door in front of us.