The deafening crack of a gunshot echoed through the hall, snapping me out of my terror. Dominic lunged forward, grabbing me by the waist, and rolled us behind an ornate pillar. A second shot splintered the marble just inches above my head.
"Scarlett, stay low!" His command was sharp, his tone brooking no argument.
I didn't need to be told twice. My back pressed against the cold stone as Dominic peeked out from our cover. He pulled a handgun from his holster, his expression grim and unrelenting.
"Who is it?" I whispered, barely able to get the words out.
"Sniper," he replied, his voice clipped. "And they're good."
My stomach twisted. The terror was overwhelming, a crushing weight that made it hard to breathe. But beneath it, something else stirred—anger. Anger at the situation. Anger at Dominic. And, most of all, anger at the way I was caught in the middle of a war I didn't understand.
"Why me?" I hissed, my voice sharper than I intended. "Why are they after me?"
He shot me a look that silenced my protests. "Not now."
Before I could argue, he moved, a blur of precision as he fired off a shot and ducked back behind cover. The distant shattering of glass told me he'd hit something—or someone.
I clenched my fists. "You need to tell me—"
"Scarlett," he interrupted, his gaze pinning me in place. "I'm trying to keep you alive. Let me do that."
"Alive for what?" I shot back. "To be your scapegoat? To dangle as bait?"
His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might ignore me. Instead, he let out a low growl, muttering under his breath. "You want answers? Fine. But not here."
Another shot rang out, ricocheting off the pillar and showering us with debris. Dominic cursed, his frustration evident in the way he checked his weapon.
"Stay put," he ordered.
"Like hell," I said, my voice a mix of defiance and desperation.
His gaze flicked to me, dark and unreadable. For a moment, I thought he'd argue. But then he did something I didn't expect—he nodded.
"Fine," he said. "You want answers? Prove you can handle them."
"What do you mean?"
Before he could respond, he moved again, this time darting to another pillar. His movements were fluid, almost predatory, as if he thrived in chaos. The sniper's attention shifted to him, giving me a chance to act.
I scanned the room, searching for anything I could use. My eyes landed on a discarded rifle lying near the edge of the staircase. It might as well have been miles away.
"Dominic!" I called, pointing toward the weapon.
He followed my gaze, his eyes narrowing. "Stay here."
"Not a chance."
Ignoring his glare, I bolted toward the staircase, adrenaline fueling my every step. The sound of gunfire was deafening, but I didn't stop. My breath came in ragged gasps as I reached the rifle, my fingers fumbling to pick it up.
"Scarlett, get down!" Dominic's shout came just as the sniper fired again.
The bullet missed me by inches, shattering the railing beside me. I dropped to the floor, clutching the weapon like a lifeline. My hands trembled as I tried to steady it, my mind racing.
"Point and shoot," Dominic instructed, his voice cutting through the chaos.
"I don't know how!" I shouted back.
"Figure it out!"
The frustration in his tone matched my own, but there was no time to argue. The sniper's scope glinted in the low light, and I knew he was lining up his next shot.
I took a deep breath, my finger hovering over the trigger. The weight of the rifle was unfamiliar, awkward, but I forced myself to focus.
"You've got this," Dominic said, his voice unexpectedly steady.
I squeezed the trigger. The recoil jolted through me, but the shot went wide, striking a wall far from the target.
The sniper's laughter echoed through the room, a taunting sound that sent a shiver down my spine.
Dominic didn't waste the opportunity. While the sniper was distracted, he moved with lethal precision, scaling the side of the staircase and closing the distance.
"Scarlett, keep firing!"
I didn't hesitate this time. My shots weren't perfect—far from it—but they were enough to keep the sniper off balance.
Dominic reached the balcony just as the sniper turned his attention back to him. The two clashed in a brutal fight, the sound of fists and grunts echoing in the cavernous space.
I scrambled to my feet, gripping the rifle tightly. My heart pounded as I watched Dominic struggle to disarm the sniper. The fight was vicious, each man determined to come out on top.
And then, in a move that made my breath catch, Dominic managed to wrench the rifle from the sniper's hands. Without hesitation, he aimed it point-blank.
"Who sent you?" Dominic demanded, his voice a dangerous growl.
The sniper sneered, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "You'll never win, Dominic. The mole's closer than you think."
Dominic's eyes narrowed, but before he could press further, the sniper lunged forward, forcing them both over the edge of the balcony.
"Dominic!" I screamed, my voice tearing through the silence.
They hit the ground with a sickening thud.
Dominic rolled to his feet, bloodied but alive. The sniper wasn't so lucky. His body lay motionless, a pool of crimson spreading beneath him.
I rushed to Dominic's side, my heart racing. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, his expression grim. "This isn't over."
I grabbed his arm, my grip firm. "No more excuses, Dominic. Tell me the truth. Why was I kidnapped? Why do they want me dead?"
He stared at me, his jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke, his voice low and filled with resolve.
"I'll tell you everything," he said. "But first, I need your help."
"Help with what?"
"Finding the mole," he said, his gaze piercing. "Because until we do, neither of us is safe."