Page 51 of Fractured

“You just don’t fucking get it, do you? What has you so distracted that you haven’t put it together yet?” he yells, finally showing all that pent-up emotion.

I can’t help the smirk splitting my cheeks at finally getting him to break. With a spin, I turn on my toes to face him. “Don’t get what, Vander?” I question, taunting him into breaking further.

His mouth opens to respond, but before he can, his eyes go wide and he rushes toward me. Vander runs right into me, his arms wrap around my body and squeezes tightly as the momentum of his force sends us hurtling to the ground.

I was close enough to the back of the car that we end up landing partly behind the bumper. Vander’s hand cupping the back of my head helps shield it from most of the impact when we land, but my vision still swims, leaving me feeling dazed. At the same time, Vander lets out a hiss of pain. It makes me frown since it should be me complaining, not him. I’m the one who took the brunt of the fall, acting as the pillow and blocking him from hitting the ground. In fact, I’m finding it difficult to breathe. The impact of my back hitting the cement sent all the air rushing out of my lungs with a hiss, and the weight of Vander on top of me is making it impossible to pull a breath in.

Vander immediately gets to one knee and groans as he lifts me up and drags us farther behind the car. He cups my face worriedly, roaming his gaze over my body. “Are you okay?” he asks with panic.

I try to push him off of me and lean toward the side unblocked by the car. Vander grasps my arm and harshly pulls me back. I’m suddenly being showered with bits of concrete as a sharp impact hits the ground right next to where my head just was. I was moved just in time to miss what could only be a bullet, and seeing as how there wasn’t a sound accompanying the shot, whoever it is, is using a powerful silencer.

“You have some explaining to do,” I harshly inform Vander. My eyes narrow even more when I notice the sheen of sweat covering his face. His complexion has drained, leaving him paler than I’ve ever seen him.

“I know,” he says, his voice breaking oddly. “Don’t do anything stupid. Please, Remi. I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to you.” The pleading in his soft tone instantly puts me on edge. He ducks his head and places a kiss on my forehead. A tortured expression crosses his features, and suddenly the arm holding up his weight buckles. He lands on top of me, his face nuzzled in the crook of my neck. The abrupt weight compresses my chest, making it hard to breathe once again.

“Off,” I somehow wheeze out. Vander doesn’t move. His head is lying on me in a gesture completely unlike him. I try to push him off, but he doesn’t even so much as twitch. Sticky warmth spreads across my chest, and I can’t hide my shock at the sensation. A second later, the tang of fresh blood reaches me. “Vander!” I shout, hoping it rouses him, but it does nothing.

I struggle to get out from underneath him, and after what seems like an hour, I finally shimmy him off, practically shoving him under the car. Realization slams into me. Vander just took a bullet meant for me. I sink closer to the car, keeping low and trying to trace the trajectory of where the bullet came from, so I can make sure I stay out of range. The glint of a laser catches my eye just right and I have a lock on where the sharpshooter is. That must be how Vander knew to get me out of the way. What a fucking fool to use a weak-ass tool that gives them away.

Rage like none other overwhelms me. How dare that shitstain think they can come after me. I’ll give them the slowest of deaths for not only their attempt on my life, but for taking out my guard. If they’ve killed him, I’m going to draw out their torture for each day I’ll miss out on having him in my life. Vander wasn’t theirs to take away. He belongs to me. And I’m the only one who gets to decide when he’s no longer in my life. Not them.

I glance down at Vander. He still hasn’t moved, and I’m torn between going after the shooter right now, or finding out just how injured he is. I’m covered in his blood, and I really don’t want to find out if the fucker died before I got to ride his dick. He always had to win, didn’t he? At least now, I don’t have to worry about him seeing my own blood.

Glancing back toward the sharpshooter’s perch, I move an inch to the side and they take another shot. Rocks ricochet again with another miss and I lean toward the car. Someone needs more practice, not that I’m complaining.

Suddenly my name is shouted from across the street, drawing my attention. My gaze quickly lands on Grayson. He’s on the side of the street where the shots came from. What the fuck is he doing here? “Don’t fucking move again! Do you have a death wish?” he shouts at me.

“What are you doing here?” I question, immediately unsure if I can trust him. It’s always the husband, right?

“No time for that. Where are they?” he asks, obviously talking about the assassin.

“Wouldn’t you know where your guy is perched?” I accuse.

His eyes go wide in shock. “You think this is me? I didn’t do this,” he objects. Hurt is evident in his tone, and everything in his body language tells me he’s speaking the truth.

I give a nod, deciding to trust him, but my wary side plots to make him pay if he betrays me. “Roof, two buildings down on your side of the street,” I tell him.

Grayson gives me one last lingering gaze, emotions swirling in his eyes. They flash by too quickly for me to decipher them, and then he’s running down the street. His body hugs the buildings as he goes after my assassin. I just hope he has the skills to keep from dying himself. That man owes me his secrets. And as soon as this is over, I’ll get them one way or another. I’m done pushing off getting the answers I want for another day.

My attention returns to Vander, lying face down next to me. I maneuver myself so I can try to roll him over while keeping cover behind the bumper. I’ve gained some muscle mass with all of our training, but he’s still a big man, so it’s a struggle to flip him with no leverage.

Vander still doesn’t move and it feels like a piece of me has broken off. It’s floating just out of reach. I’m getting exhausted with these new emotions popping up in my life all of a sudden. A tearing, ripping pain pulls at my chest. Could this be dread? Am I dreading the loss of Vander?

An urgency takes a hold of me and I quickly try to pull my thoughts together so I can think this through logically. He would have been shot in the front. Is it better for the bullet to go all the way through or to be lodged inside? Shit! Why didn’t I look for a wound before flipping him over?

My eyes search his body, but they stop on his chest. It isn’t moving. My gaze darts to his face. And without thought, my fingers find their way to his neck, searching for a pulse. “Listen here, you stubborn asshole. You’re mine, and I haven’t given you permission to leave me. Now you need to wake the fuck up. I’m not done with you.”

I watch his face for any sign of having heard me, but there isn’t a twitch, not even an eyelash stirring. My fingers move, searching for his pulse. It has to be here somewhere. He can’t be dead. I refuse to accept it…