Chapter 87 Unexpected
RORY POV
Different loud sounds echoing through the house wouldn't let me sleep. I tried to sleep through it, buried under the covers, but the noise grew heavier, closer, and more violent with every passing second.
Slowly, I pulled the covers away. My heart hammered against my ribs when I realized the space beside me was empty. Where the hell did Alexander go? Was he at the gym? I checked the time-it was only a few minutes after three. He never goes down to the gym until six.
I barely stood up when a sharp pop startled me, coming from right outside the window. I rushed over, pulling the curtain back, and a scream died in my throat.
Dead bodies littered the grounds below. Most of them were unrecognizable, but I could see the uniforms-our guards. I looked closer and saw Luke and two others behind a stone pillar, desperately returning fire at masked men.
Oh my God.
The house is under attack.
The reality of it hit me all at once and my hands started shaking against the curtain.
Alexander. Where is Alexander?
I scanned the courtyard frantically through the glass. I couldn’t find him. I looked at every face, every figure still moving, every shadow. Nothing. He wasn’t there.
Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. What if they’ve already —
No. Stop. Don’t think it.
I didn’t stop to find my slippers. I ran out of the room and down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble.
Trails of bodies followed me. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach as I passed another fallen guard, his eyes staring at nothing. I closed my eyes shut, trying to block it out, but I couldn't stop. I kept searching, praying to a God I hadn't spoken to in a while that Alexander wasn't among them.
I checked the main floor-nothing. Then, a thought hit me that nearly stopped my heart.
Liam. Relief washed over me like ice water when I remembered he was still with his uncle.
I wouldn't know what to do if he had to witness this slaughter.
More gunfire erupted from the East Wing. I followed the sound, the freezing night air biting at my skin. The short silk top and shorts I wore did nothing to protect me from the cold, but the adrenaline was burning too hot for me to care.
I rounded the corner and skidded to a halt.
Vivianne was there, a Glock in each hand, her face a mask of stone. Something about the way she dropped men was terrifyingly beautiful. She looked cold. She looked like she enjoyed it, like she had been crafted for this kind of violence her entire life. She was a Miller through and through.
I ducked behind a heavy marble statue, my breath coming in jagged hitches. Suddenly, I saw a man emerge from a shadow behind her.
He was leveling his rifle, aiming directly at Vivianne's back. She didn't see him.
The fear for her life overcame the lock on my throat.
"Vi! Watch out!" | yelled.
Vivianne spun, her eyes widening as she spotted me. "What are you doing here, Rory?
Go back inside! Now!"
Before the gunman could pull the trigger, a knife whistled through the air, burying itself deep into his chest. The man dropped without a sound.
I turned toward where it had come from.
Alexander stepped into the light and a sob of relief nearly choked me.
Black hoodie. Black pants. Blood on his face, his hands, his clothes — dark and already drying, blood that I knew didn't belong to him.
He looked like the devil himself, like something with no speed limit, controlled and furious and completely in his element, a gun holstered at his side and a knife in his right hand, a harness strapped across his hoodie showcasing blades, more than I could count — different sizes, different handles, all of them within reach. As I watched he reached across his chest without looking and pulled another knife and sent it into the dark and somewhere past the tree line someone dropped.
He turned to aim at a new target, but he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes landed on me.
Our eyes clashed. The noise, the cold, the chaos on every side, all of it pulled back until there was nothing but that single line of space between his eyes and mine.
There were a thousand emotions passing between us-terror, rage, relief-none of which I could name.
Behind Alexander, I saw a man moving up low and fast, gun already raised, aimed at Alexander’s back. Closing the distance quickly. Alexander didn't seen him. He was still looking at me, completely still, that unreadable thing still on his face.
"Alexander!" | screamed his name, my legs moving before I could think. I started running toward him, the distance between us feeling like miles.
"Do not run! Do not fucking run, Aurora!" he roared. His eyes were filled with a horror l'd never seen before.
The desperation in his voice stopped something inside me but not my legs. I had never heard him sound like that. Raw like that, stripped completely open, nothing underneath it but pure horror. But I couldn’t stop. My feet kept going.
The man behind Alexander shifted.
His eyes moved from Alexander to me. He pulled the gun away from Alexander’s back and turned it. Aimed it at me instead.
Fear hit me so completely I couldn’t breathe. I could see the barrel from here. I could see it finding me.
"NO!" Alexander screamed.
He lunged, covering the distance in a blur of motion I never believed existed. He reached me just as the muzzle flashed. He engulfed me in a crushing hug, spinning us around with a violent force, using his own back as a shield.
The sound of the shot was deafeningly close.
Vivianne's guns barked in response, shooting the man dead and clearing the last of the shooters.
Alexander’s hands moved to my face.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands shaking as he cupped my face, his eyes moving across my face fast and frantic — checking, searching, looking for something wrong.
"Are you okay?" his voice was strained, thick with an emotion I had never heard from him.
I nodded, tears streaming down my face even as I let out a hysterical chuckle. "I'm fine. I'm fine, Alexander."
A sound came out of me that was half sob half something else entirely, relief and terror mixed up so completely I couldn’t separate them. I reached for his face. “Are you — are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He gave me a bitter, beautiful smile.
“As long as you’re fine,” he said quietly.
"If I knew... getting shot... was the only thing to make me hear your voice... I'd have done it sooner."
I didn't understand what he meant until his hands slid away from my cheeks. His knees buckled, and he slumped to the floor.
"ALEXANDER!"
I screamed and collapsed beside him, my hands moving frantically over his body. There was a hole in his stomach, the blood pouring out and staining my nightwear. He had taken that bullet meant for me.
He’d been shot in the stomach and I hadn’t even known. He’d held me and looked at my face and smiled and he’d been bleeding the whole time.
“No —” The sound that came out of me wasn’t a word. “No, no, no —”
Vivianne knelt on his other side, her hands pressing down on the wound. "You have to keep your eyes open, Alexander! Stay with me!"
Alexander's eyes were fluttering, but he raised his hand slowly. I watched his fingers through my tears. They moved roughly, uncertainly, but I caught every sign.
D-O-N-T C-R-Y. He signed it again, slower. / hate to see you cry.
I couldn't believe it. He had just signed to me.
"I won't cry, just stay," | begged, but my voice was a broken mess.
I looked into his eyes, waiting for him to say something, to sign something else. But his eyes slowly drifted shut. His chest stilled. He stopped breathing.
"Alexander? Alexander!"
(Author's note; What do we think of this chapter? Should we let Alexander die peacefully?🥴)