From the day I learned to walk, I was taught to be aware of my surroundings. Growing up the way that I did, in a family that walks the line of high society, and the underworld is dangerous on both sides, and so I was taught to always be on the lookout for threats.
But as I walk back to the table in a daze, returning to what seems to be the future I never wanted for myself, I’m oblivious to the world around me. My thoughts are plagued with an ultimatum that doesn’t have a good option and a man who both terrifies and intrigues me.
When I lock eyes with Elijah, his seat shoved back as he launches himself to his feet, my brows pull together in confusion up until the sound of the safety of a gun clicking off catches my attention.
A masked man stands between tables, terrified diners huddle together beside him, shielding their loved ones from the scene playing out in front of them. His arm is raised, and he holds a heavy, black gun in his palm. It’s not the first time he’s done something like this, not with how calm his demeanor is, but it’s the first time for one of us. I’ve never had a gun pointed at me.
“Snow!” Elijah shouts as he dodges past a terrified couple sitting between us. The fear in his eyes is unexpected. Elijah Russo doesn’t strike me as someone who’s afraid of much of anything, but right now, he’s terrified. “Get down.”
But I’m frozen in place. No matter how loud I scream at myself to move, my own fear takes over and makes it impossible to do much of anything other than stare at the brown-eyed man holding my life in his cruel hands.
“She said you were the idiot of the family, but she didn’t mention you have no survival instinct. I guess your family has coddled you too much.” He chuckles, his finger squeezing the trigger until the slightest movement is the difference between the bullet remaining in its barrel and it coming right at me. “Enjoy hell, bitch.”
The moment the busy restaurant is filled with a startling bang, I’m whisked out of the way and knocked to the ground. The air leaves my lungs the moment my back hits the ground and a hard body lands on top of me, covering every inch of my body, protecting me from the gunman.
When I finally drag a breath in, and my eyes focus on the person keeping me pinned to the hard ground, moss-colored eyes meet mine.
Elijah.
He saved me. He put his own life at risk to protect me.
“I’ve got you, little Snowflake,” he murmurs. “Your brothers are taking care of it.” But he makes no move to remove himself from me. There’s something in his gaze I can’t place, something that doesn’t belong on this ruthless man.
I make no attempt to get up, finding the weight of him above me oddly comforting. Having a gun held on me, the idea that my life could have been over in the blink of an eye, it’s overwhelming. My heart beats painfully in my chest, and the only thing holding the sob lodged in my throat from breaking free is the warmth the man above me emits.
Elijah tears his eyes from mine to look over his shoulder, checking on the situation around us, but my eyes remain locked on him. They wander to his neck, the intricate design I’ve only ever admired from afar so close I can make it out. Black vines curl up around his neck, peeking out from beneath his tailored shirt. The darkness wraps around his throat, and the level of detail can only be admired when you’re as close as I am.
I find myself completely entranced with the intricate design that I almost don’t notice when people surround us. It’s only his weight lifting from my body hesitantly that brings me back to the here and now.
“Oh god, Snow. Are you okay?” Wynter drops to her knees beside me, her eyes moving across my body as if looking for visible injuries, but there aren’t any. The pain coursing through my body isn’t physical.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, but I make no move to get to my feet, quite satisfied to remain flat on my back in the middle of the busy restaurant.
She looks up on the other side of me in the direction the gunman was, but when her brows knit together, I know what she’s about to say. “I think he got away. But don’t worry about it. We’ll get them,” she promises me.
“Are you okay?” I nod to her stomach, the evidence of her pregnancy not yet visible.
Her eyes follow my gaze and a small smile tips her lips up as she brings her palm to rest on her flat stomach. “Yeah, we’re okay. Everett put me under the table the second he saw the gun.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her during an attack that was meant for me. Suddenly it occurs to me that Elijah has moved away from us, and I look around frantically, finally prying my body from the cold, hard ground.
“He’s talking to Storm,” Emerson tells me, dropping down beside Wynter and taking my shaking hand in hers.
“He saved me,” I whisper.
Wynter smiles sadly. “Elijah won some points with our brothers tonight. Putting his body between a bullet and you, proves he’s loyal and in it for the right reasons.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell them that’s not exactly the case, but what good will it do? The man just threw himself in front of a bullet to protect me, knowing full well he could be hit. As crazy as he and all the things he’s done are, I can’t argue with the fact that he cares about me, perhaps more than I realized.
Elijah looks over at me, our eyes locking, and before Rayne can finish whatever he’s saying, Elijah is crossing back to me, kneeling beside me and brushing my hair from my face.
“I’m going to take you home and have the doctor come check you out,” he tells me.
“I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”
Elijah sighs, frustration flaring in his face before being replaced with something softer. “Snowflake, please let me make sure you’re okay.”
I stare at him for another moment before nodding. It’s not in my nature to concede so easily, usually I’ll fight to the death about things I don’t even care about, but the way he looks at me, the pure fear in his eyes looking so out of place on someone like him, I can’t deny him this.
“Thank you,” Elijah murmurs right before he lifts me effortlessly from the floor, his arms wrapping around me protectively.
As badly as I want to bury my face in his chest and hide from the world, I turn to my sister. “The media.”
“It’s okay, I’ve got it. You go home and get some rest. Text me with what the doctor says and call me in the morning,” Wynter says.
I nod, my eyes barely stopping their roll before it can begin. Being the baby in the family has always meant they’ve coddled me, but this time, I can’t be mad at them for it. They all just watched a masked man hold me at gunpoint and pull the trigger. It’s understandable for them to be a little overbearing.
Storm, Rayne, and Everett watch with interest as Elijah weaves around tables with me bundled in his arms, the warmth of his body too comforting for me not to lean into.
His grip on me tightens as soon as we step into the street. Cold wind whips around us in the moments it takes to cross to the car where Pete holds the door open for us.
The driver’s eyes drop to where I’m burrowed into his boss’s chest, and concern fills his features. “Are you okay, Miss Saint James?” he asks.
“Depends which one of us you ask.” I try to laugh, but nothing comes out. As much as I want to make light of this situation, it’s not possible. There’s nothing light about it.
Elijah shakes his head as he climbs into the back of the SUV, never loosening his grip around me, and I find comfort in his arms. It’s strange to think a few hours ago, I was fighting tooth and nail at the idea of being forced into a marriage I didn’t want, but maybe marrying Elijah wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
I’d get to see my family whenever I wanted, I’d have a life of luxury, and although I don’t return the feelings, my husband would be protective enough of me that he would throw himself in front of a bullet to keep me safe.
It’s that thought that allows me to close my eyes and lean into the warmth, my body suddenly bogged down with exhaustion. Maybe if I just close my eyes for a little while.
