Chapter 214
Aria's POV
Devon's eyes turned razor-sharp with focus. His hand found mine briefly, squeezing once before he released it and crossed the suite with purposeful strides. I watched as he approached what appeared to be an ordinary wall panel and pressed his palm against it. The panel slid open silently, revealing a hidden safe.
"You knew this would happen," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as he entered a code and retrieved a titanium case from within.
Devon didn't respond immediately. He placed the case on the coffee table and flipped it open, revealing an array of compact handguns and what looked like high-tech tracking devices. "I never enter a battlefield without an exit strategy," he finally said, selecting two guns and checking their chambers with practiced efficiency.
"You knew there would be danger and you still brought me here?" The accusation in my voice was unmistakable, though it was undercut by the tremor of fear I couldn't quite control.
Devon looked up at me, his gray eyes unreadable. "I never said this was a vacation, Aria." He held out a small, lightweight pistol to me. "Take it."
I stared at the gun, my hand frozen in midair. "I've never... I don't know how to use this."
Devon moved behind me, his chest pressed against my back as he guided the weapon into my hand. "Safety off, like this," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His hands enveloped mine, positioning my fingers. "Aim, exhale, then squeeze the trigger. Not pull—squeeze."
The weight of the gun felt foreign and dangerous, but Devon's proximity sent an inappropriate wave of heat through my body. My breathing quickened, and it wasn't entirely from fear.
"Remember," he said, his voice dropping lower, "if someone comes through that door who isn't me or Roman, don't hesitate."
Before I could respond, the suite door crashed open again. Roman stumbled in, blood trickling from a cut on his forehead. "Sir, they've breached the security perimeter. Two men heading—"
His warning was cut short as two armed men burst into the room behind him. Devon reacted instantly, pulling me down behind a plush sofa as bullets splintered the wooden paneling where we'd been standing seconds before.
"Stay down!" Devon commanded, returning fire with precision.
My heart hammered against my ribs, each breath painful in my constricted chest. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, acrid and terrifying. I peered over the edge of the sofa, my hands shaking violently as I raised the gun Devon had given me.
One of the intruders moved toward our position, weapon raised. Devon was occupied with the other attacker, his attention diverted.
"Steady your wrist," Devon called to me without looking, somehow aware of my movement. "Exhale, then squeeze."
I tried to follow his instructions, fighting against the violent trembling in my limbs. I exhaled slowly and pulled the trigger. The recoil jolted through my arms, and the bullet grazed the intruder's shoulder. He staggered but didn't fall. Devon fired immediately after, his shot finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The man collapsed, motionless.
The sudden silence was almost as shocking as the gunfire had been. My ears rang, and I realized I was gasping for air.
"Breathe," Devon said, his hand briefly touching my shoulder. "You're not dying tonight." Strangely, his blunt assurance calmed me more than any gentle platitude could have.
Roman had subdued the other attacker, who now lay unconscious near the door. Devon moved swiftly to the hidden safe again, retrieving more ammunition and what looked like communication devices.
"There are more coming," he said, handing a gun to Roman and tucking another into an ankle holster. He checked his own weapon with fluid motions that spoke of unsettling familiarity. "The quantum chip prototype is what they're after. Connor's using Hamilton's men as muscle."
I struggled to process what was happening, my mind still reeling from having just fired a gun at another human being. "Shouldn't we call the police or coast guard or—"
"We're in international waters," Devon interrupted. "And Hamilton owns the local authorities anyway." He turned to Roman. "Secure the northeast corridor and activate Protocol Sigma. I'll handle the rest."
Roman nodded and headed for the door, but paused at Devon's next words.
"And Roman—" Devon's voice hardened, "—if anything happens to her, I'll hold you personally responsible."
As Roman left, Devon turned to me. His face was a mask of cold determination, but his eyes betrayed something else—concern, perhaps even fear. Not for himself, I realized with a jolt, but for me.
"Stay here," he ordered. "Lock the door after I leave. Don't open it for anyone but me or Roman."
"You can't go out there alone," I protested, surprising myself with how much I cared about his safety.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "When this is over, we'll go dancing on the streets of Miami." The casual promise sounded strange coming from him, almost tender in its normality.
"Devon..." His name escaped my lips without the usual "Mr. Kane" formality, and I saw something flicker in his expression.
He paused at the door, looking back at me with an intensity that made my breath catch. "You can take a hot shower while you wait for me. The bathroom is bulletproof." With that incongruous mix of practical advice and dark humor, he was gone, instructing Roman to remain outside my door.
I locked the door as instructed, my hand still trembling slightly. The suite felt cavernous and threatening now that I was alone. Gunshots echoed somewhere distant on the yacht, and each one made me flinch. I sank into a corner of the room, gun still clutched in my hand, and tried to control my breathing.
Two hours passed like an eternity. I hadn't moved from my position, too afraid to even approach the windows. The sporadic sounds of conflict had faded to an eerie silence that was somehow worse.
"Roman?" I called through the door. "What's happening?"
"Stay inside, Ms. Harper," came the terse reply. "The situation is being handled."
"But Devon—" I stopped myself, surprised at the genuine worry in my voice. "Is Mr. Kane alright?"
Roman's voice softened slightly. "Mr. Kane never loses, especially when he has something important to protect."
I pondered his words, wondering if the "something important" was the quantum chip technology or... something else. My mind drifted to Devon's peaceful face when he slept beside me, the way his features softened and the perpetual tension left his body. Those rare moments of vulnerability seemed worlds away from the man who had handed me a gun and dispatched attackers with cold efficiency.
My thoughts were interrupted by a sound outside—not gunfire, but something softer, like footsteps trying to be silent. Roman's voice spoke to someone, his tone changing to alert wariness.
Suddenly, there was a thud and a groan. I froze, my heart racing again. The doorknob turned slowly, testing the lock. I backed away, raising the gun with both hands as Devon had shown me. My palms were slick with sweat, making the weapon feel unsteady in my grip.
The lock clicked, and the door swung open. Buzz Hamilton stood there, flanked by two men I didn't recognize. Behind them, I glimpsed Roman on the floor, bleeding from a head wound but still conscious, his eyes finding mine with an apologetic look.
"Well, well," Buzz said, his earlier charm replaced by cold calculation. "Devon's little girlfriend. Where is he?"
I kept the gun trained on him, hoping he couldn't see how badly I was shaking. "Get out."
Buzz laughed, seemingly unconcerned by my weapon. "Put that down before you hurt yourself, sweetheart. We just need to have a chat with your boyfriend about his vault code."
One of his men moved toward Roman, pressing a foot against his wounded shoulder. Roman's face contorted with pain, but he remained silent.
"Tell me where Kane is, and the code to his safe," Buzz demanded, this time addressing Roman directly. "There's half a million dollars in it for you."
"Go to hell," Roman spat through gritted teeth.
Buzz sighed dramatically and nodded to his man, who increased the pressure on Roman's injury. Roman's groan of pain made my stomach turn.
From my position, I could see into the luxury walk-in closet where I might hide. I could slip away while they were focused on Roman, possibly escape through another exit. Self-preservation urged me to move, to save myself.
But as I watched Roman suffer for his loyalty to Devon, something shifted inside me. I thought of Devon facing multiple attackers, perhaps injured or worse. I thought of the quiet certainty in Roman's voice when he said Devon never loses when he has something important to protect.
My finger tightened on the trigger, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. Hide or help? Run or stay? The choice would determine everything that followed.