The Sun, Moon & Stars [GxGxG]

6. A Rock & A Hard Place

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2024
(Present)

The sound of glass shattering disrupts my slumber. I bolt upright and click on the bedside lamp. Several seconds of silence pass as I try to calm my racing heart. I ease my way out of bed and peek into the hallway.

"Dev?"

I answer timidly, the familiar voice calling me from the semi-darkness. "Rory?"

All six-foot-two-inches of AJ appears in her sleepwear, gun in hand. She joins me in the doorway and checks me over worriedly. I note the way she refrains from touching me.

"You okay?"

I nod, asking urgently, "Where's Nia?"

AJ glances around. "She wasn't in her bed. I'm gonna check downstairs."

"I'm going with you."

"Dev–"

"I'm going, Aurora."

The dark-haired woman sighs and pulls another hunk of metal from her belt, dropping it in my hands.

"I know how you feel about firearms, but I'm not taking any chances," she whispers. "You remember how to use it, don't you?"

"Y-Yes."

"Show me your grip."

I adjust my hands appropriately and release the mag, checking it over before popping it back in and cocking the slide.

"That's my girl," Rory says proudly. Her praise warms me. "You ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

It feels like one of those action movies, how we maneuver downstairs while covering each other. Six months ago, I wouldn't have touched a weapon of any kind, but these were the situations we learned to be prepared for as people with notoriety. We'd grown accustomed to sudden acts of violence; however, none had taken place inside the safety of our home. Until now, that is.

After clearing the living room, AJ signals us to split up and take either entrance into the kitchen. We keep each other in sight and inch forward, careful not to make a sound. It's dark, so we go on the defensive when an unknown silhouette stirs, but neither of us dares to open fire with impaired vision.

I flip the nearest switch, not anticipating that the person I trained my barrel on would be my other girlfriend.

AJ and I drop our weapons, breathing a little easier. Our relief soon turns into worry as we see crimson dripping from her hand.

I disarm myself and rush to her aid. "Nia!"

"Fuck," Rory spits. "What the hell happened?"

"What does it look like?" Nia hisses in pain. "Will you put that thing away, please?"

AJ does as she says and stows her Glock, taking in the scene. On the island is a glass of Hennessy over ice and a shattered bottle, the contents of which stained the marble countertop.

I wet a towel and tend to Nia's hand, wincing at the gruesome sight of deep cuts across her palm and crystal fragments pooling along with her blood.