The Innocent Target

Chapter Eighteen

Now...

Odette pulled herself up to her arms as the heat of the explosion ran around. Their plan hadn't worked... one of them died and they didn't find Vincent. The bomb wasn't in her knowledge until Noah had mentioned. The place had been rigged to blow everyone up. It was her luck that Noah had probably seen it before everything went to holy hell.

Her body felt exhausted as she watched the flames roar.

Her sobs began to clog her throat up and her chest heaved with every cry that came out of her.

"Noah!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, knowing that he'd given his last breath to save her and take down these assholes. Feeling utterly defeated, she dropped her head on weak arms and the cries within were as if breaking her lungs. She wanted to breathe but at the same time cry out for help or God to bring back the man who saved her life.

She pushed herself up to her feet with a lot of determination and the help of a cement railing of the fountain behind her. Sitting on the thick rim of it, she caught her breath.

Looking around, she searched for any proof of life, nothing.

Suddenly, the cop cars and the fire alarms sounded. She flinched and got up. She couldn't be seen. She didn't even know how she was here in Spain and the last thing she wanted was to be taken to the US embassy for another inquiry. She had to walk a distance through the woods to small hidden pave by the bottom of the slightly steep hill where he'd parked their car.

She was barefoot, so the cold gravel bit at her soles. She didn't care. It felt like her world had imploded around her and nothing but mere ashes were left. She'd lost Noah. The best person she'd met in ages after losing her parents and here she was, still breathing. Still alive. She had to hold on to every branch or tree to make way down without rolling over and down the hill. Her head was spinning but she needed composure and get back to Vincent's cabin.

After what felt like ages of bad flashes of death and the beginning of an outrage that she didn't expect would occur, she saw the black car, parked in a distance. Her feet were steady, however much in pain as they were.

She couldn't help but see through the images of the men barging in through the doors and shooting down everyone inside. Noah and her had been separated by Mrs. Harrison when she'd seen Odette again. She was furious and just when she was yelling, they heard the guns and Odette had ducked before Mrs. Harrison took a bullet in the middle of her eye. Odette attacked the guy but in the struggle, he stabbed her with his pocket knife and tried to shoot her. To her luck, he was empty. She'd snatched his gun and he ran out, disappearing.

That was how she ended up on the balcony of that room, half in blood, mostly in pain and terrified to the bone because nothing had gone according to what they'd thought it would. The house had been ambushed by Morris' men and no one survived. No one... except for her.

She finally reached the car and opened the already unlocked door. He'd left a key hidden under the driver's seat and she bent in, pulling it out. Just as she did, she stared at it and his smirking face pulled up in front of her. The way he was proud to hide it in plain sight where no one would think to look for a set of keys.

Sitting in the seat for a bit, she pursed her lips and placed her hands on the wheel. She checked her face in the rear view mirror and the dark patches of soot, along with a bruised cheek and bloody lip, made her quiver in her place. She wanted to die in that second and not caring for the headache, she slammed her head back a few times against the head rest of her seat and cried out in despair and anger.

Finally pulling out of the path, she drove out on the highway carefully and made way for cabin. It was already one in the night and the roads were mostly empty by now. She noticed her right hand knuckles to be blood from the attack on the first guy and she stretched her fingers to wear the ache off that she was finally noticing she had, almost everywhere in her body. Every muscle seemed to be complaining about its own pain, not caring for the pressure it would put on her brain.