The house plunged into darkness, the only sound the pounding of Elena's heart and the faint shuffle of movement in the distance. Damien's presence beside her was both reassuring and terrifying. He held the gun steady, his eyes sharp even in the dim light filtering through the windows.
"Stay close," he whispered, his voice low but firm. "And don't make a sound."
Elena nodded, her throat too dry to respond. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she followed him deeper into the shadowy expanse of the house.
The sound of glass shattering broke the silence, and Elena flinched. Her breath came in shallow gasps as Damien moved swiftly, guiding her toward the back of the house. She tried to keep her panic in check, but the oppressive darkness and the sense of being hunted were overwhelming.
"Here," Damien murmured, ushering her into a hidden alcove behind a heavy bookshelf. "Stay here. Don't come out until I tell you."
"No," Elena whispered fiercely, grabbing his arm. "I'm not staying here alone."
"You'll only slow me down," Damien said, his tone icy. "I can't protect you if I'm worried about you."
"And I can't just sit here while—" A loud thud from the other room cut her off, and she froze.
Damien's jaw tightened. "Trust me," he said, his voice softer now. "I'll handle this."
Before she could argue further, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving her alone. Elena pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering as she tried to calm her racing thoughts. She hated this—hated feeling helpless and vulnerable. But what could she do against armed intruders?
Another crash echoed through the house, followed by muffled voices. She strained to hear, but the words were unintelligible. The silence that followed was even more unnerving, each second stretching into an eternity.
Then she heard it—the sound of footsteps approaching. They were slow, deliberate, and getting closer. Her breath hitched as she pressed herself deeper into the alcove, her mind racing. Was it Damien? Or one of them?
The footsteps stopped just outside the bookshelf, and she held her breath, her body trembling. A shadow moved across the faint sliver of light spilling into the room, and then the bookshelf shifted slightly.
Elena stifled a scream as a hand reached in, grabbing her arm and yanking her out of her hiding spot. She stumbled, her eyes widening as she came face-to-face with a man she didn't recognize. He was tall and burly, his face scarred and his eyes cold.
"Well, what do we have here?" he sneered, his grip tightening on her arm.
"Let me go!" Elena struggled, but his hold was like iron.
"I don't think so," the man said, dragging her toward the living room. "You're coming with me."
Panic surged through her as she fought against him, her mind racing for a way to escape. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could, a sharp sound rang out—a gunshot.
The man's grip loosened, and he crumpled to the floor, revealing Damien standing behind him, his gun still smoking. His expression was a mix of fury and relief as his eyes met hers.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight.
Elena nodded shakily, her knees threatening to give out beneath her. "I... I think so."
Damien grabbed her arm, pulling her close. "I told you to stay hidden."
"I couldn't—" she began, but he cut her off.
"Save it," he said, his tone harsh. "We're not out of this yet."
He led her toward the front of the house, his movements swift and precise. The tension in the air was palpable, every sound magnified in the oppressive silence. As they reached the foyer, Damien paused, his eyes scanning the shadows.
"They'll regroup," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "We need to get out of here."
Before Elena could respond, another voice echoed through the house, cold and mocking.
"Leaving so soon, Blackwell? We haven't even finished our little game."
Damien stiffened, his grip on her arm tightening. "Stay behind me," he said, his voice like steel.
A man stepped into view, his face partially obscured by the shadows. He was lean and well-dressed, his demeanor calm and confident. In his hand, he held a gun, its barrel trained directly on Damien.
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused, Blackwell?" the man said, his tone conversational. "We could have avoided all this if you'd just stayed in line."
Damien's lips curled into a bitter smile. "You should've known better than to come after me."
"And yet, here we are," the man replied, his smile cold. "You've got something I want. Hand her over, and I'll let you walk away."
Elena's blood ran cold. "Me?" she whispered.
Damien didn't glance back at her, his focus unwavering. "You're not getting her."
The man sighed, shaking his head. "Such a waste. You're as stubborn as ever, Blackwell."
The tension snapped as the man raised his gun, but Damien was faster. He fired, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. The man dove behind a pillar, his shot going wide, and chaos erupted as more gunfire filled the air.
"Run!" Damien shouted, pushing Elena toward the door.
She stumbled, her feet moving on instinct as she raced toward the car. She didn't dare look back, the sound of gunfire driving her forward. The cool night air hit her like a slap, and she threw herself into the car, her hands shaking as she fumbled for the door lock.
Seconds later, Damien appeared, sliding into the driver's seat. His shirt was torn, and blood stained his sleeve, but his expression was fierce and determined.
"Go!" Elena cried, her voice breaking.
Without a word, Damien started the car, the tires screeching as they tore down the driveway. The estate disappeared behind them, swallowed by the darkness.
Elena clutched her knees to her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "What just happened?"
Damien's jaw clenched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "They've declared war," he said grimly. "And I intend to finish it."