Bullet ✔️

Chapter 4

If the night hadn't been bad enough after the first bomb went off, it started pouring after about ten minutes of walking. My camera was soaked immediately, even after I put it under the sweater Elina found for me. I just hoped the memory card would be intact when I finally got home, as I tried my best to navigate through the familiarly unfamiliar streets.

There were houses just like James and Elina's everywhere, street names I didn't recognize and cars driving by without caring about my drenched state.

A good thing about the rain was that no one was disturbing me on my walk. But that also gave me time to really process and think about what had happened in such short amount of time. I'd heard of no police being involved in anything that had happened. No one came to question the bride and groom. I heard nothing of any hospitals or ambulances, despite the explosions being pretty big.

Then there was the gun Damian so casually pulled out and held during the drive, like he was afraid someone was coming after us. I grimaced slightly as I crossed the road and went down another street. I didn't think Damian was afraid of anything at that moment—he was prepared.

It took a few seconds to sink in, and when it did, I wasn't sure I wanted to believe it. He seemed so innocent earlier. Like a man who would undoubtedly break my heart, yes, definitely, but not like a man who'd know how to shoot someone. Or have the heart to...

I recognized a car that had passed me two times already as it went by again. In the dark rain it was hard to tell what kind it was, but the sound of its engine was recognizable, and the headlights were the same. I sped up as I realized it turned around at the end of the street and came back again, the same way I was going.

My hand went instinctively up to my ear, and I started talking, loudly, as if I was on the phone with someone as the car slowed down and matched my speed. I tried my best not to look towards it. After everything that happened that night, nothing seemed impossible anymore, and I didn't want to be kidnapped and killed.

Until the engine revved and sped up in front of me to a free spot along the street, and then the passenger door opened up, and a familiar set of dark eyes met mine when I carefully peeked inside, with a questioning rise of an eyebrow on top.

Looking around me, I figured I had no witnesses should he truly be a bad man, but he saved my life earlier, and I still had his friends' wedding photos on me. I had leverage. So I took my hand down and sat down in the dry seat and closed the door, locking the rain outside.

"Were you looking for me?" I couldn't keep my mouth from spilling it out once he steered the car back out to the road.

"Not at first," he replied, his eyes lingering on my dripping hair, and the bulge of my camera beneath my sweater. "I'm sorry," he continued, "I said some things I didn't mean and stormed off. James called and said you didn't stay, then the rain came, and... Well, I thought you couldn't've gone too far."

"You circled me several times." The accusation in my tone was inevitable as I crossed my arms and stared at his profile.

He just smirked and let out a small chuckle. "I should be glad you noticed."

"But you aren't?"

"I'm a little pissed I've had to save you twice."

I huffed and rolled my eyes, before I looked towards the road. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go home," I said, trying my best to match my voice to my annoyed mood.

"Fine, where's that?"

He didn't look at me as I replied, "Langston."

"That's almost an hour away," he spat, "were you gonna walk all the way there?"