128. “Simon, please..."

128. “Simon, please..."
Isabelle Nash

The gunshot explodes in the air, and the pressure bursts inside my ears. For one suspended moment, the whole world seems to hold its breath.
Simon jerks with the impact of the bullet—his body lurches, but he doesn’t let go of me, staggering to the side. The gun slips from his fingers, hanging in the air for a second… but it doesn’t fall.
“Bastard…” he growls, stumbling backward with me, his breath full of pain and fury.
The hurried sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway, each step getting closer. A shot ricochets off the wall, just inches from Felix’s shoulder, and he flinches back instinctively.
I scream. I don’t know if it’s Felix’s name coming out of my throat or just raw panic taking over.
Something shifts. The thick scent of gunpowder and tension grows even heavier. A sound behind me draws Simon’s attention, his eyes narrowing like he recognizes someone.
“Nox,” he murmurs, the name slipping from his lips.
Nox’s solid figure stands there, his face partly hidden in the shadows, but the cold gleam in his eyes is unmistakable. He moves like he already knows how this ends, stepping in front of Simon and me with a heavy gun in his hand.
He smiles. Not a cocky smile—it's empty, cruel, calculated.
“Long time, boss,” he says, his voice slow, almost casual.
He pulls the trigger before he even finishes the sentence.
The hollow sound is swallowed by the chaos that erupts in seconds. Gunfire tears through the air in every direction. Muzzle flashes light up faces in quick bursts. Phill dives behind a column, Tony yells orders into the radio, but the noise drowns out everything.
Felix turns toward me, trying to find a way to reach me. For a brief moment, our eyes meet—and what I see in his stops me cold. He’s desperate. Just like me.
Simon’s hand tightens painfully around my arm, then yanks me with brutal force.
“Let’s go!” he growls, practically spitting the words in my ear.
“NO!” I try to break free, struggling—my hands hitting him, my feet scrambling for the ground—but it’s no use. He’s hurt, but he still won’t let go, clamping down on my arm with bruising pressure.
“Stay where you are, Felix!” Simon shouts, using me as a shield. “One more step and she dies!”
Felix raises his gun. Aims. Finger on the trigger—but he doesn’t shoot.
He hesitates.
“Felix!” I call out, my voice raw with panic.
Felix doesn’t move.
His grip is steady on the gun, finger pressing the trigger, but his eyes… they’re on me. Not on Simon—me. Like I’m the one holding the gun. Like any mistake, now would kill me.
“Felix!” I scream again, louder this time, but my voice vanishes in the middle of the chaos.
Simon takes advantage of the moment. He drags me hard, and I feel his blood soaking into my dress. The sticky heat clings to me. He’s wounded—the shoulder, maybe more—but he’s still stronger than me. The cold metal of the gun digs into the side of my spine.
“You don’t get it, Belle,” he hisses, his mouth way too close to my skin. “I waited for you, all these years. And when I finally had the guts to act, he took you from me.”
I shut my eyes as more gunshots ring out, while Simon drags me away, leaving Nox, Felix, and the others behind in the middle of an endless shootout.
“What are you doing?” I try to keep my voice steady, but it shakes. “You... you’ve lost your mind, Simon!”
He laughs—low and ragged. The kind of laugh I’ve never heard from him before.
“You think he’s different? Felix killed his father. Made it look like an accident. He set it all up from the beginning. And now… now he’s found a new distraction—you.”
“You’re lying.” I turn to him, even with the gun still pressing into my ribs. “You’re using that to justify what you’re doing.”
He screams—loud and raw. Yanks my hair hard and slams me against the wall. His shoulder is bleeding worse now, but he still doesn’t stop.
“You have no idea, Belle! What I had to sacrifice for you!”
Smoke still hangs in the air. I can make out shapes moving at the far end of the hallway. Phill, Tony—maybe Felix. But no one shoots. Not while Simon has me like this.
He yanks me again, dragging me farther. His arm wraps tight around my waist, crushing me against his hot, bloody body. The metallic scent mixes with sweat and the lingering smoke behind us. My heels scrape the floor as I try to dig them in, grab onto something—anything. But Simon is stronger—he always was.
He glances back a few times, alert. The smoke, the muffled shouting, Felix’s shadow trying to catch up to me—it’s all fading behind us, swallowed by the dark.
The door at the end of the hall creaks as he shoves it open with his shoulder. A fire escape appears, and night air pours in through the gaps. The metal stairs are freezing, scraping the bare skin of my arms as I try to grip the railing.
“You’re coming with me. Even if I have to knock you out.”
“No!” I scream, my voice cracking. I try to plant my feet, but I slip in my panic. My hands collapse under me, and he drags me step by step. Every strike of my heels echoes against the metal.
His blood drips onto my shoulders, spatters on the stairs. He groans in pain but doesn’t stop. His body shakes, but he keeps going. His fingers dig into my skin.
At the last flight of stairs, a dark side alley waits below. The sound of a car grabs my attention. A black sedan—back window rolled down, door open. The car’s been waiting for us, like Simon always knew he’d get me out of there.
“Get in,” he growls, shoving me brutally into the car.
“Simon, please... don’t do this,” I beg, trying to grab the edge of the door—anything I can hold onto.
He shoves me harder, making my back slam against the seat. Then he climbs in right after me.
His breathing is ragged as he digs through his coat pocket. His blood-covered hands pull out a small, clear bottle—and a cloth.
My body goes rigid. My stomach turns.
“No…” I try to scramble to the other side, but he’s faster. He climbs on top of me, his knees pinning down my legs.
The cloth touches my face.
The car screeches away, tires screaming, and I can hear the gunshots behind us—bullets slamming into the side of the vehicle.
I fight, hit, push, and turn my head. My nails dig into his neck, leaving scratches. I grab for the cloth with shaking fingers.
“Relax, Belle,” he whispers. “When you wake up, everything will be different. You’ll understand I’m the only one who truly loves you.”
The smell is strong, chemical, suffocating. It floods my nose, drowns my senses. I try to hold my breath, but he presses harder. My hands lose their rhythm. My body starts to go limp, everything spinning. The lights blur, my eyes blinking slowly.
The last sound I hear is my name, whispered with sick devotion.