Not So Vibrant, Not So Dull (draft) ✔

Chapter Five: Gun Point - Part 2

Timothy came back faster than I anticipated. I didn't blame him. We were locked in a game where the first to strike had the upper hand in survival. Now that he knew who I was—and that my weakness was you—he wouldn't just sit back and wait.

It all started in the dim light of early morning, the sky barely starting to lighten as shadows danced across the walls of the apartment building. Timothy, my father's enforcer, had sent his people after us. Coward. He couldn't afford to piss me off on his own. I had been expecting this confrontation for days—ever since I made the decision to take a stand. But facing it head-on was something else.

You were soundly sleeping, oblivious to the brewing storm, lost in a half-awake state. I had wanted to protect you from this, shield you from the mess that was about to unfold. But there was no time. The moment intruders' heavy boots thudded through the corridor, I knew it was all or nothing.

The first shot rang out, sharp and sudden. The room erupted into chaos as I scrambled to arm myself, adrenaline surging. I could hear someone's cold, calculated voice cutting through the din, barking orders and threats. I knew that man. He was your father's best. Timothy was relentless, and his aim was true. He was a seasoned predator in a world of shadows.

I pushed through the smoke and debris, every step a battle. The sound of gunfire filled the space, echoing off the walls like a storm unleashed. I fought back, my movements sharp and precise, fueled by a desperate need to protect what little I had left.

Through the haze, I saw you emerge, confusion and fear in your eyes. You were in a state of shock, but you quickly realised what was happening. The sight of your father's men, armed and dangerous, only added to the turmoil.

"Get down!" I shouted, my voice barely carrying over the cacophony. You complied, diving behind cover as I continued to exchange fire with the assassins . Each shot was a statement, a declaration of my resolve. I couldn't afford to miss.

In a break in the onslaught, I made a split-second decision. I grabbed you, pulling you with me as we made a run for the balcony jumping from one to another, you clinging to me and screaming on top of your lungs till we reached a opened window of one of my neighbours. Slinging in my heart pounded as we navigated the narrow, cluttered hallway, assassins' voices growing fainter but no less menacing. 

We manged to run down what felt like several hundred steps and stumbled into the alley behind the building through a back door, the crisp morning air a stark contrast to the suffocating intensity of the fight we'd just escaped. I kept moving, urgency propelling us forward as I pushed you ahead of me, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the assassins  following us. We needed to vanish, to lose ourselves in the city's relentless chaos.

You finally stopped, turning to face me. "What just happened?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of confusion and fear.

I glanced back at you, the weight of the day's events crashing down upon me. My face was set in grim determination, but the rawness in my eyes was undeniable. "Timothy—he came for me. I had to—"

"Just how deep are you in this? I'm sure he isn't here for me," you cut me off, your voice sharp, demanding answers.

"I—I'm sorry—" I stammered, guilt tightening around my throat.

"Stop saying sorry, Garrete! Your sorry isn't answering any of my questions!" you snapped, the frustration in your voice breaking through the tension.

But before I could say anything more, a deafening blast ripped through the air, shattering the fragile moment.The sound rattled the alley walls, followed by the distinct crack of gunfire. Before either of us could process what was happening, I lunged forward, ducking down and pulling you into my arms, shielding your body with mine. Your scream pierced through the haze of confusion, joined by others echoing in the distance.