🩸 HE COULD HAVE ESCAPED. INSTEAD, HE CAME BACK FOR THE SEAMSTRESS.
🩸 HE COULD HAVE ESCAPED. INSTEAD, HE CAME BACK FOR THE SEAMSTRESS.
The penthouse had gone silent.
Not peaceful.
Silent in the way a forest becomes silent when a predator enters.
Emma crouched behind the marble column, one hand pressed over her mouth.
Her sewing kit lay overturned beside her.
Spools of thread rolled across the floor.
Broken glá´€ss glittered beneath the chandelier.
Somewhere near the kitchen, a man whispered into a radio.
“West side compromised.”
Another voice answered.
“Shooter on the opposite building.”
Emma’s breathing quickened.
She looked toward Julian.
He was standing near the shattered window.
Blood darkened the shoulder of his shirt.
His gun was steady in his hand.
“Julian.”
He glanced back.
“Stay down.”
“You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“That is definitely blood.”
His eyes flicked toward her.
“You’re a tailor. Not a doctor.”
“Tonight I’m apparently both.”
A faint smile appeared.
Then disappeared.
Another bullet struck the wall.
Julian moved instantly.
He crossed the room and pulled Emma farther behind the marble pillar.
His hand closed around the back of her neck.
“Don’t move.”
Emma could feel his heartbeat through his shirt.
Fast.
Controlled.
Human.
The realization unsettled her.
She had expected a monster.
Not this.
Not a man whose first instinct had been to put his body between her and a bullet.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Stay here.”
He started to move.
Emma grabbed his wrist.
“You’re not leaving me.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then at her face.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know you dragged me behind a wall when you could have run.”
His jaw тιԍнтened.
“You should be scared of me.”
“I am.”
“Good.”
“But I’m more scared of the people shooting at us.”
For the first time, Julian almost smiled.
Then the building lights flickered.
The emergency system activated.
Red illumination washed over the penthouse.
Julian looked toward the hallway.
“We’re leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Is there somewhere safe?”
He glanced at the shattered windows.
“Not here.”
He reached for her hand.
Emma hesitated.
His fingers closed around hers.
Warm.
Firm.
He pulled her to her feet.
They moved through the penthouse.
Emma stumbled over broken glá´€ss.
Julian immediately stopped.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
He looked down at her shoes.
Then at the blood beginning to gather around one ankle.
His expression darkened.
“You’re bleeding.”
“It’s a scratch.”
“You’re not walking.”
Before she could argue, he bent and lifted her.
Emma gasped.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving time.”
“I can walk.”
“I know.”
He carried her anyway.
Her arms instinctively went around his neck.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Outside, sirens wailed somewhere below.
Inside, the city looked impossibly distant.
Emma stared at his face.
“You could have left me.”
Julian’s eyes remained on the hallway ahead.
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
He finally looked down at her.
Something unguarded flickered in his eyes.
“Because you walked into my house tonight believing you were fixing a dress.”
His voice lowered.
“You didn’t know you were walking into a war.”
Emma swallowed.
“And now?”
His grip тιԍнтened slightly.
“Now you’re in it.”
A gunsH๏τ thundered from the hallway.
Julian turned his body instinctively, shielding Emma with his own.
The bullet struck the wall behind him.
Emma buried her face against his chest.
His arm тιԍнтened around her.
“Don’t look.”
She heard him whisper into her hair.
“I’ve got you.”
And for reasons she couldn’t explain, those four words frightened her more than the gunsH๏τs.
Because she believed him.
