The Sword (Prince Harry fanfic #3)

Chapter Thirty-Nine

With tomorrow night being New Years Eve, people hibernated for the night. Lucy walked in downtown Saint Paul, down the street from the Minnesota State Capitol. Lucy had been working through the day with an U.S. Senator of Minnesota on the gun control bill, giving testimony toward the state right to choose. There was bound to be backlash from the bill. Lucy was built with excitement, though, since she would soon be returning to London, officially, forever her home.

The street lights dimmed as she moved further away from the Capitol and closer to her car. It wasn't too late but the sun had gone down long ago.

Lucy's cell phone started to ring and she answered, "Hello."

It was the doctor's office, calling with Lucy's test results from the previous week. Lucy didn't speak as she listened carefully. There were only a few things she actually wanted to hear. Everything else was unimportant. She was solely focused on what the doctor said. Her heart gave a flutter and almost stopped for a minute.

"Thank you," Lucy responded into the phone nicely.

Immediately after the call was ended, Lucy called Harry, wanting him to pick up now. It took a few rings, and then it went to voicemail. He was probably in the shower. She left a message after the beep, "Harry, I'm on my way back to the house now, and I wanted to tell you something but I guess I'll just tell you when I get there. Also, decide if what you want for dinner, whether we're ordering in or if you're actually going to try to cook again." Lucy's stomach lurched. "I'll be at the house in thirty or so minutes, and I'm hungry. Make the decision quickly. I love you. Bye."

Before Lucy could end the call, someone jumped on her, knocking her to the ground in a dark alleyway. Falling, her phone flung out of her hand and skidded across the cold and hard pavement. She fell chest first. Her wrists cracked. Blood started to ooze from her cut up hands. Lucy bit her bottom lip so she didn't let out a grunt.

Someone kicked her in the stomach, and she couldn't help but let out a soft yelp. Pain rushed through her body. A bruise would've formed on her side by the next day. Lucy automatically tried to stand, as if to fight off the person. However, the person kicked her again in the ribs, and she collapsed to the concrete. The wind taken out of her, she heaved. Her breath was shaky, and her whole body started to jerk slightly. His foot connected with her knee. Vibrations echoed through her bones. She let out a groan.

"Give me your money!" growled the figure, a male by the sound of the voice. "I have a gun, give me your money."

Lucy coughed and moved away from the figure. He jabbed her side with the tip of his gun. Through her jacket, she still managed to feel the coldness of the metal.

"Don't you feel this. This is a gun. I'll shoot you."

Biting her bottom lip, Lucy decided not to antagonize the the person. There would be no witty comeback. Yet, there was nothing she could say to him that wouldn't anger him more. In honesty, since he pushed her to the ground, she wasn't sure where her purse was. It wasn't still on her body, was it? If it had fallen off, he would have taken it and ran.

Lucy wore across-the-body purse. Of course it hadn't fallen off, she decided, and she was the only one who could take it off. He didn't actually want to shoot her.

"Give me the purse," he said. "Don't make me say it again."

"Okay," Lucy swallowed, tasting blood on her tongue. "Okay." Moving to take off the purse, the figure jumped in the dark, pointing his gun at her face. "I have to take it off."

"Give me the money."

"That'll take more time."

The gun pressed into Lucy's forehead. The metal burned her already cold skin. Yet, she wasn't scared. Fear didn't run through her veins like others might feel. This gun was no different than any gun, when it was meant to kill. It was just another gun, and it was pointed at her again.

"Give me your fucking purse!"

"I'm taking it off slowly." Lucy paused and then removed the purse around her body. Her grip was strong on the purse, and her mind yelled at her to let it go. But Lucy had never been the type. She wasn't one just to let things go. She wasn't one to give up, even if it meant her life. With a gun in her face, she still wouldn't give any of it up. She would never.

With his eyes on her purse, Lucy took her other hand to punch him in the stomach. It wasn't a strong enough punch to do any real damage but it took him off guard. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, spreading across her body; her body reacted, protecting itself. In a traumatic experience, your body could do one of three things: flight, fight or freeze. Lucy knew hers at least. Her mind told her no, give up, hand it over, protect herself for another day; her body would have none of that shit.

The air was lost from his lungs after Lucy landed a punch in his diaphragm, but that was all. She angled herself and took another swing, aiming for the same spot. He lost more air as he collapsed on all fours. Gun skidded out of his hand, being lost in the darkness. Lucy got up and felt anger thrive within her. Her leg kicked him in the side.

As Lucy took a step, her knee gave out, and she fell to the ground. Breathing heavily, Lucy let out a yell, as if someone might hear her.

The male figure stood again, but he was without a gun. Lucy got up again shakily. She couldn't put much weight on her left knee. Yet, she was willing to fight anyone. Lucy took one step toward him and let out another gasp of air.

Suddenly, the sound of sirens burst through the alleyway. Even if the police officers weren't coming for him, they were close. Perhaps no one had even heard this scuffle, but it was enough to freak out the mugger. With Lucy in his way to escape the alley, he pushed her out of his way roughly. Her fingers kept a hold on him, taking him down with her. He kicked back, landing his foot in her chest. Black dots danced in her vision. She let go. The figure ran from the alleyway.

Adrenaline pushed through her veins still, yet she started to become aware of her surroundings. The high started to end. Coughing, she crawled to the nearest wall, which helped her stand. No pressure was put on her left knee as she hobbled forward. The sirens were incredibly close now. The bright lights of red and blue reflected off the wet buildings from the snow.

Snatching her purse off the ground and then her cell phone only a few feet away, Lucy wobbled out of the darkness of the alleyway and into the streetlights. A Saint Paul police cruiser sat there with two officers glancing around. Their eyes fell upon her, and she waved. Blood fell from her head.