Time seemed to slow as the realization hit Amara like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, her heartbeat pounding in her ears like a war drum.
Instinctively, she tightened her hold on Vaughn, ready to shield him with her own body. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to protect him, to take the bullet herself.
Before she could even fully react, Rowan moved.
In one swift, fluid motion, he threw himself between them and the incoming bullet. His body became a living shield, the only barrier between the deadly force of the gunfire and the two people he was determined to protect.
The sound of the shot echoed in the night, sharp and piercing, followed by the sickening thud of impact.
The bullet tore into the back of his shoulder, just half an inch from his vital point.
But it didn’t stop there. Another bullet came almost immediately, striking his arm with brutal precision. Rowan’s body jerked with the impact, but he remained standing, resolute, his focus unwavering.
A chaotic storm of emotions surged within Amara… fear, panic, guilt, and something deeper, something that clawed at her insides and made her chest ache. She had seen violence before, had even been in the midst of it, but this was different. This was Rowan, the man who had complicated her life in so many ways, the man she hadn’t expected to care for, yet here he was, bleeding for her.
Her mind snapped back to the present with brutal clarity. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions overtake her. Vaughn needed her, and Rowan needed her to stay sharp.
With a swift movement, she repositioned Vaughn, ensuring he was safely tucked behind her, and drew her gun. Her hands were steady, her aim sure, as she fired back in the direction of the attackers. Each shot was delivered with deadly precision, the fierceness in her expression a warning to anyone who dared to threaten her son.
Rowan, despite the pain coursing through him, glanced over at Amara. The sight of her… fierce… determined… unyielding… filled him with a sense of pride. A smile, however brief, spread across his lips. Even in the midst of chaos, she was a force to be reckoned with.
For a minute, there was utter silence. The gunfire ceased, and the world seemed to hold its breath. Without waiting another moment, Rowan reached for the car door and opened it, his movements swift despite the blood seeping from his wounds. Amara didn’t hesitate; she followed him into the passenger seat, her body still humming with adrenaline. With one swift motion, she passed Vaughn to the back seat.
“Baby, stay down, okay?” she instructed, her voice firm but gentle.
Vaughn nodded with calmness despite the chaotic situation he just saw. But his gaze didn’t stay on Amara for long. Instead, he focused on Rowan, his eyes landing on the spreading stain of blood on Rowan’s shirt.
“Mommy… Rowan uncle is bleeding,” Vaughn said, his small voice was filled with concern.
Amara’s heart clenched at the sight of her son’s worry, but she didn’t let it show on her face. She glanced at Rowan, her eyes briefly meeting his. The pain was evident in his expression, but so was the determination. He was not the type to back down, not even now.
“I’m fine,” Rowan said, his voice steady despite the obvious strain.
Just then, another shot rang out, but Rowan was already in motion. He slammed the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, the tires screeching as they sped down the road. Amara twisted in her seat, her gun still in hand, and fired more shots out the window, ensuring their attackers couldn’t follow. The streets blurred past as they raced through the night, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife.
A few minutes later, they reached a safer part of town, where the streets were quieter and the threat seemed to recede into the distance. Amara lowered her gun and turned to Rowan, her voice softer now. “Thank you,” she said, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.
Rowan didn’t look at her, his focus still on the road ahead. “That’s my duty, Amara. There’s no need to thank me.”
But there was something in his voice, something that made Amara want to argue. Instead, she forced herself to stay practical. “Can I drive?” she asked, her tone leaving little room for argument.
Rowan chuckled, a sound that was laced with pain but still held a trace of his usual arrogance. “Don’t you trust my driving, Crimson?”
She didn’t answer right away, her eyes narrowing slightly at his attempt to deflect. “You’re bleeding,” she pointed out, her voice tinged with concern despite herself.
Rowan shot her a sidelong glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “Are you worried about me Crimson?” he teased, though his voice lacked its usual lightness.
Amara shook her head, trying to keep her emotions in check. “I just don’t want you to die because of me,” she muttered, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
There was a beat of silence, and then Rowan’s smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. “I’m not going to die, Amara. Not now, not because of this.” His tone was resolute, as if he could will it to be true just by saying it.
But Amara couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled in her chest.
The car continued down the road, the tension between them palpable. Vaughn had fallen silent in the back seat, his small form huddled low, just as his mother had instructed.
She glanced at Rowan, who was steering the car with utter calmness as if he hasn’t got two bullets in his back of shoulder.
“Let me drive,” she insisted again, her voice firmer this time.
Rowan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he didn’t argue. After a moment, he nodded and pulled over to the side of the road. They switched places quickly, Amara sliding into the driver’s seat with practiced ease while Rowan moved to the passenger side.