Tempted Hero by Ella Miles

Ri

Adrian pullsthe SUV up to a wooded area near the lake. As he stops the car, I get goosebumps and not the good kind. They scream at me to run the other fucking way. There is danger in these woods.

“Good thing we went to your apartment to get you leggings and tennis shoes, Princess. Although, I’d love to see you hike through the woods in those heels and tight dresses you wear,” Georgio smirks.

“Do I need to break your nose again?”

“Do it, and I’ll break yours right back. I talked to the boss. He said if you do that again, I should punch back.”

My eyes scan through the darkness outside, already done with this conversation. I’m anxious to see what awaits me and whether or not Beckett is already here. I don’t have the eerie tingling along my skin like I normally do when I’m near him. I don’t have that tug against my heartstrings, begging me to go to him, so he must not be here.

“Did Vincent also tell you if you touch me, you’re dead?”

“He told me he wouldn’t kill me.”

“No, but I will.”

Adrian laughs.

Georgio goes white.

I throw the door open, unfazed by my idiot guards. When I put my feet down, I’m thankful that I did convince them to get me some proper clothes for a competition. As much as the kissing game played to my advantage, I doubt every game will. The guys will get better at picking games.

I’m wearing tennis shoes, three-quarter leggings, a tank top, and a black hoodie over it. Right now, I’m thankful for the hoodie; it’s keeping me warm.

I walk along a trail through the trees, headed toward voices. The sun set a while ago, so I can barely make out where I’m walking. I pull out my phone to light the path as I hear Adrian and Georgio mumbling behind me.

“No one told me it’s fucking cold after dark,” Georgio says.

There’s a smack.

Adrian smacked him.

I smirk—good.

The trail leads to a clearing with a small fire in the middle. Surrounded by the fire’s light, I flick off my phone and put it back in my pocket before walking toward the contestants with purpose.

Everyone is dressed for the darkness, wearing black clothes they can easily move in. It seems that everyone got the message that this time will be different than the last game where formal attire was required.

I don’t know if the guys realize it’s me under this hoodie or not, but they keep chatting with each other, ignoring me. It gives me time to scan for Beckett and Caius, but I don’t find either of them.

However, I do find Vincent.

“Boss wants to chat with you,” Georgio says.

I sigh and walk over to where he’s standing just beyond the crowd surrounding the fire.

“What’s wrong? Was I supposed to wear a dress and heels in the middle of the woods?” I ask, sarcastically.

“If you’d stay out of the games, then yes. You were supposed to look like the beautiful princess, a prize to be won. You would have been safe. But no, you had to throw your name in. Now, not even I can ensure your safety.”

I cross my arms, annoyed with him. “I can ensure my own safety just fine, thank you.”

He sighs, like he can’t believe I’m his daughter, and this is what he has to put up with. He looks like he’s aged overnight. I don’t know what has him so troubled, but something happened, something changed.

“I chose the name yesterday. I figured it would give the men time to think of an appropriate game and for us to do with any setup. I didn’t want a repeat of last time,” he says.

I nod, “Makes sense.”

“This game is dangerous.”

“I’m sure I can handle myself.”

“You could—but I’m calling in my debt. You owe me. You promised to do what I ask, when I ask it. Let’s see if you were lying more or not.”

I hold my breath, waiting to see what horrible thing I’m going to have to do. It will be worth it. Caius lives. Beckett lives. Saving them is worth any cost.

“You’re going to lose, badly. You are going to act like you’ve never seen a gun, let alone shot one. Do you understand me?”

I nod, slowly. I hate this. It means I can’t defend myself. It means he wants me to play a damsel in distress. It means he wants me to hide my skills.

“Lose, let them shoot you, but don’t die. Think you can handle that?”

My eyes wide. Let them shoot me? Don’t die? Shit, I don’t know what this game is, but it doesn’t sound like what he’s asking is going to be easy.

“If you don’t, I’ll kill him,” he looks behind me. I turn my head to where Caius and Beckett are standing near the fire. They’re both dressed in all black. Caius says something to Beckett, but Beckett just stands sternly, focused, his brows furrowed, deep in thought.

I don’t know which him Vincent is talking about—Caius or Beckett. I don’t know if he’s figured out that Beckett is whom I really care about. He’s whom I’d do anything for. Caius, I’d just do most things for.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“Don’t fail. If you die, everything we’ve worked for is ruined.”

We’ve worked for.

I sigh. I don’t know what he means or why he thinks we are on the same side, but we most definitely are not.

I walk back toward the fire with my two shadows behind me. I doubt they will be close, keeping me safe during this game.

Vincent approaches the group, and everyone turns to him as he speaks, “Welcome. This is the second game and is far more deadly than the first. Thank you all for coming. I’m excited to see who has what it takes to marry Rialta.”

He points, and all eyes burn into me. Lust attacks me from all sides.

I’m no longer forbidden.

I don’t know if these guys know that yet, but I’m going to hate finding out.

“I drew a name yesterday—Leighton Stone. Would you please do the honors of explaining the game you’ve chosen?”

A man steps forward from the darkness and into the light of the fire next to Vincent. The man is tall, with an endless amount of muscles, short reddish-brown hair, and a look of danger that oozes from his pores.

“The game is easy—it’s like laser tag or paintball, except with real guns. You get shot, you’re out. When you lose, you find your way back home and get your own medical care. That is, if you can survive that long. The last man standing wins Rialta for the week.”

Wins me.

I hate this. My insides churn at the thought. Last time I could fight back even though I knew I wasn’t going to win. This is a game I actually have a shot at winning, but I can’t fight. I can’t shoot. I have to lose and hope whoever shoots me only shoots me in the arm or leg and misses every major artery.

And Beckett could be shot. He could die.

That’s my new mission: ensure he survives. I can’t shoot. I can’t protect myself. I can’t show my skills, but I can ensure that he stays alive.

“The only rules are you must stay within a mile of this fire, and the only weapon you can use is a gun. Break either of those rules and you’re disqualified. Does anyone need a weapon, or did everyone bring at least a gun?” Leighton continues.

The crowd chuckles.

“Rialta will need a gun,” Vincent says.

I sigh. I already have one shoved in the back of my leggings, but it’s hidden by my sweatshirt. Clearly, Vincent wants everyone to think I’ve never touched a gun before in my life.

Georgio hands me a gun. “Aim with this end, squeeze with this; it’s called a trigger. And mind the recoil.” He snickers. He knows I know how to use a gun.

“Thanks for your excellent instruction.” I fake not knowing how to load bullets, and Georgio pretends to show me how.

Despite the terrible acting, the guys closest seem to be fooled by the ruse. I glance over at Vincent, who looks to be smiling with approval. Am I dead? Because his approval is not possible.

He then steps forward, back into the full light of the fire, his smile long gone. “On the count of three.” He gives us no other warning.

I try to consider my options, what I should do. This is about to be a massacre. Vincent wants me to lose, but he also said not to die. If I stay here, I’ll die. The shots will be too close range. Even if they guys try not to kill me, a stray bullet will take me out easily enough.

“One.”

Everyone readies their guns.

“Two.”

The air changes, from cool to hot in an instant.

“Three.”

I run.

Others do as well.

The ring of gunfire behind me tells me many did not. Several stayed and were shot.

I run as fast as I can into the woods, darting between two trees. There isn’t really a trail, just rough underbrush that immediately scratches me as I dive to the ground as gunfire whizzes past my head.

Really?Vincent spent years ensuring my safety, hired bodyguards and the best security systems to protect me every moment of every day. All of that only to let me die like this. Unbelievable.

I toss aside the gun Georgio gave me. I have a second one anyway. And since I’m not supposed to use it, it’s just dead weight.

I do a pushup and hop back onto my feet to keep running. I can’t run forever. Eventually, someone will shoot me. I’ll have to let someone shoot me.

I need to find the right guy to shoot me. One who will make it as painless as possible. I need to find Beckett or Caius. They won’t like it, but they’ll do it.

Or could I shoot myself?

I decide I’ll do it if it’s my only option, but it’s far less painful if someone else shoots me. So I keep running, until I no longer hear the crunch of footsteps behind me.

I stop, leaning against a tree as blood oozes down my arms and legs from all the scrapes of thorns, sticks, and trees. I breathe in and out, trying to catch my breath before I have to run again.

I look behind me. I can see the firelight in the distance, so I didn’t run that far. I hear the whoosh of water hitting a shoreline behind me. I’m close to a lake.

I scan the woods. A shadow moves behind a tree about twenty feet from me.

I freeze.

I don’t know if he sees me. I don’t know who it is. I don’t know if I should run or stay still.

I continue to still, holding my breath and hoping he doesn’t see me—at least, not until I figure out who he is.

“I think you dropped your gun, Princess. It’ll be hard to win without one,” Leighton says, walking out from behind the tree.

Shit, now what do I do?

Will he actually shoot me? Do I run? Do I pull my gun on him?

I can’t.

Vincent will kill Caius or Beckett or Lucy if I do.

I close my eyes, deciding not to run. If I run, it’ll make me a harder target. If Leighton shoots me, I want him to have a clear shot.

Any guy who shoots me should know better than to make it fatal. I just have to hold still enough for him to shoot me in the arm, the leg, or just graze the skin if he knows what he’s doing. I have no idea how good of a shot Leighton is, but I suspect pretty good if he came up with this idea.

I hold my breath, my eyes piercing his as I watch him aim his gun in my direction.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make this painless, Princess. And then when I win you, I’ll show you how it feels to be protected by me.”

“I doubt you’re a good enough shot to leave me devoid of pain or scars.”

He smirks. “You have no idea.”

“Do your worst,” I say.

And then I feel the bullet.

It’s not a graze; it’s a sledgehammer rammed through my arm.

I look down at my right bicep, where a bullet is now lodged.

“Rialta! Are you okay?” Leighton yells as he runs toward me.

He wasn’t the one who shot me.

I look behind me and see dark eyes staring at me.

I frown because I know those eyes. They don’t belong to a monster. They belong to my friend, my lover, the man I’m in love with.

He stares at me for one long second. I don’t see any remorse, regret, or confusion about whom he was shooting.

Beckett meant to shoot me, and he didn’t just graze my arm.

But why?

I never get the chance to ask him. He disappears into the darkness just as Leighton approaches, fawning over me like I have a fatal wound.

Why?