Deceitful Vows by Brook Wilder
Chapter 4
Paige
The rapid bang of gunshots sends people running toward the exits. A man falls dead on the floor. His limbs are loose and bent where he lies in a swiftly growing puddle of blood. Guards in black suits yank free concealed guns from their jackets and take aim at gunmen dressed as servers.
More people tumble to the floor. Some are screaming. Others are motionless.
I’m not thinking straight as I also take aim with my camera. Watching this horror from behind the lens makes it seem surreal as I mentally distance myself from the insanity. It’s a wedding! How could this happen at a wedding?
High-pitched shrieks drown out cries of pain as bodyguards desperately shout for calm in the chaos. Guests rush the doors while others fall to the floor and crawl under tables. Sturdy tables topple over along with chairs. Vases of roses crash to the floor and send shards of glass rushing forward.
Through the lens, I point my camera at the old man who glared at me. His cold eyes stare but see nothing. His wife’s sweep of silvery blonde hair and her navy dress are no longer beside him. She’s nowhere to be seen. A bullet whizzes past my ear, and the old man crumples forward. His death brings me back to my senses.
I could die. I’m not a bystander. I’m in this mess and I could die!
A server turns toward me; his brows furrow for a moment as if in recognition, and then the gun rises up. I stare helplessly at the black hole of the barrel. My hands start to shake, but my feet refuse to move. Inhaling, I accept fate. Guess I have the answer to the question of whether my day could get worse.
An ear-splitting bang rises up, and the floor races toward me as the gun goes off again. My face is pinned to the scratchy carpet, and I can’t move.
I’m still alive! I gasp as my hands shakily roam across my body. But was I shot? And then I’m aware of something—rather someone—on top of me.
Andrei.
His large, sturdy body covers mine from above, and for a moment, I smell the hint of his cologne wafting from his shirt.
“Stay down,” he hisses. I listen, not daring to move, not even to take a breath.
He lifts off me and grimaces in pain. The shoulder of his jacket has been torn into shreds. Black threads shine with blood as his shoulder turns ruby red. He reaches up with his good arm, takes aim with the gun in his hand, and I hear a clap of thunder.
A dull thud follows, audible even as my ears are ringing.
Andrei leans forward, tugging at his jacket. His shirtsleeve is wet with blood; red drops drip off his fingertips. He shoots again, and something else falls. He yanks at his tie, but he can barely bend his fingers on his injured arm.
He needs help! I look around. Nothing. Just then, I lock eyes with a woman lying on the floor. Her blank expression stares at nothing. Oh God. C’mon, Paige.
Something in me clicks. I scramble toward Andrei and tug him toward an overturned table. He realizes what I’m doing and fires off another shot to give us the time we need to reach our destination.
“Hold still.” My voice cracks, but my words hold him in place. I take the tie out of his hand and wrap it tightly above the bullet wound. The dark circle is oozing blood, but I’m already springing into action. Biting my lip, I pull a tampon out of my pocket.
He casts me a questioning gaze, and I shrug. “Saw it on the news.”
Without another word, I shove the tampon into the wound. He grimaces but doesn’t make a sound otherwise. The white cotton turns bright red. I tighten the tie in a knot and wind it up a few more times around his arm for good measure. The bleeding stops.
He looks at his shoulder and then at me, mouth slightly agape. Yeah, I’m also amazed at what I’ve done. And I won’t lie—I didn’t think it’d work.
A lost cell phone pings. I freeze and watch it light up with a message. It stops, but a pair of feet walk past our table, moving slowly and deliberately. I bite down hard on my lips to silence a whimper.
Andrei sees it too. Faster than any man I’ve seen move, he shoots the man dead before he can shoot us. He holds his hand out toward me, and I grab it. It’s unexpectedly warm despite the blood loss.
But as another shot rings out, I quickly discard my thoughts and move fast behind him to run. Somewhere in the distance, the cake is toppled and covering the corpse of a server—a real one, not a gunman—on the floor. I keep my eyes on Andrei.
He’ll save us.
I know it. I believe, because that’s my only guarantee I’ll leave this place alive.
I feel a tug at my arm, and instinct takes over as we run out the building into the parking lot. Andrei immediately takes me to my car. Just as I’m about to question how he knows it’s mine, I realize that all he had to do was look for the cheapest-looking one.
I almost start laughing when Andrei presses the muzzle of his gun against my chest, tapping it as he enunciates each word.
“Say nothing, Little Ms. Lucky.”
Without waiting for a response and with his gun at the ready, he rushes back into the venue, leaving me standing by myself in the parking lot. Chills run through my body, chasing away the warmth that he imparted from my skin.
I never would have called myself lucky … until today.
I jump into my beat-up Toyota and take off like I’m driving a souped-up Maserati. The engine shudders and struggles as I floor the pedal, praying that I will never have to see that place or Andrei ever again.
It’s dark by the time I park in front of my apartment building and kill the engine. The adrenaline has long since faded from my body and all I feel is indescribable exhaustion. I don’t even have the strength to cry.
Sighing, I look down at the red pooling between my legs, staining my pants. My phone buzzes and I see another stupid text from Tim. A heart emoji isn’t going to fix your mess, motherfucker. I told him to pack up and leave before I got home. And to have Carole help him.
The light is still on in the window of our apartment. I bite my lip, not wanting to find out if Tim is still there.
“Fuck it.” I snarl and start my car again. I decide that I don’t want to find out, and drive off down the road at top speed.
Say nothing, Little Ms. Lucky.
All I want now is to see my father and my sister. Everyone else can rot in the hell they’ve made for themselves. I got a glimpse of that hell today, and I will never trade my crap life for anyone else’s.
Tomorrow, I have to go take my father to his chemo treatment. I have to pretend nothing happened. I can never tell Dad or my sister, Emma. I have to put on my mask and pretend that things aren’t that bad.
I have to lie.
If I need to cry, I’ll go into the bathroom and blast the shower.
It’s only when I park in front of my dad’s place, reach up around my neck to remove my camera, and grab empty air that panic seizes my throat.
My camera is missing!
