A Waltz With Wolves (Book II in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Fifty-Two: Away With Me

**

The only thought that races through my mind is death.

Alejandro is going to kill me. That's what's going to happen. He's going to shoot me, and the moment everyone downstairs hears the gunshot, it will be too late; the gun is already pressed into my back. All he needs to do is pull the trigger.

"I don't want to hurt you, Leslie," Alejandro whispers in my ear. I'm too scared to speak; he told me not to make a sound.

I breathe in the rough leather of his glove and tense against the gun on my back. Eyes closed, I wait for him to shoot. But he never does. Instead, he removes the gun, still keeping his hand over my mouth. I'm pressed even further into his chest, smelling the sweat and tobacco stuck to his clothing.

The sound of knocking on the door makes us both jump in alarm.

"Leslie, it's me," Sebastian says on the other side. The moment I hear his voice, I scream even louder into Alejandro's glove.

"Shut up," he growled into my ear. "You make another sound, I will kill him. And I won't miss this time."

My screaming stops immediately.

"I just wanted to apologize," Sebastian says. "I didn't mean to snap at you; you don't deserve that. I'm sorry."

Sebastian pauses, waiting for an answer. I think about biting down on Alejandro's finger and screaming for help, but I don't want to call his bluff.

"I understand you're upset. You don't have to talk to me now if you don't want to."

Another pause before Sebastian says goodnight, his footsteps growing fainter as he walks down the hall. After a few agonizingly slow moments, Alejandro removes his hand from my mouth. There's so much I want to say, but I'm stunned into silence. With trembling hands, I grab onto the bed post and sit down on the bed, watching him pace the room in thought. I don't know what to do; I stare at him pace the room and talk to himself, the gun in his hand like it's a toy. His hair is frizzy and unkempt, the bags under his eyes matching the hue of his dark curls.

"I wanted to explain myself the last time we were together but you wouldn't let me," he says without looking at me. "Fuck, I had so much to say, but you wouldn't let me!"

"I'm sorry," I mutter. "I...I was just scared. You know that."

He chuckles. "Of course, of course. I get that. But I-I just...everyone's painting me as the enemy. I'm the victim!"

Alejandro looks straight at me with the most detached expression—the expression of a man who has lost his sanity. My heart pounds relentlessly against my chest at the endless possibilities of what he can do to me. He's unstable, and I don't know how that will reflect on me.

"I'm listening now," I assure him; the friction of my hand against the bed post is painful. "You can talk to me."

My eyes flicker from his pacing figure to the door, where I want to make a run for it. The gun is still in his hand, and I know deep down he won't shoot me. But everyone else?

"I just love you so much, Leslie," he says to me softly. "I-I'm in love with you. I didn't mean to lie to you; I was going to tell you. I don't want to lose you. I can't." He shakes his head like a child. "No, I won't. Not again."

"You won't," I lie.

"Really?"

I nod, wiping tears from my cheeks. "Yes, really. I won't leave. Just...please. Put the gun away so we can talk about this—"