The deafening sound of the gun going off rings in my ears while the body of the guy I just shot hits the foyer floor. Like a fucking amateur, the second guy bursts into the room a moment later and just like his friend I shoot him in the head watching with sick satisfaction as he crumbles to the floor, joining the other body.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” A voice yells from the kitchen.
Shit, at least one more guy.
This guy seems to have a few more brain cells than his partners, because instead of coming for me through the same door, I can hear him moving through the kitchen, probably trying to find another way out. There is one, but unfortunately for him, I know this house better, giving me the advantage I need. I get to the living room first, turning the corner I slip into the kitchen.
By the time he sees me, I’ve already pulled the trigger, the bullet flying through the air, and hitting him square in the chest. He raises his gun with a shaking hand as if he’s going to shoot, but I’m faster, firing another shot, that lands between his eyes. Even in the dim light given by the moon through the windows, I can see the shocked expression now permanently engraved on his face. He sags to the floor, landing with a hard thud.
With the third body on the floor, it turns eerily quiet, the only sound being that of the swooshing of blood in my ears. Still, I wait a few more minutes before I move. I listen and watch, just in case someone else is here. When I’m certain no one else is, I grab my phone from the counter and dial one of the few numbers I know by heart.
It rings a few times before Xander’s sleep filled voice comes through the receiver.
“Luke?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry if I woke you, but I have a problem. Someone broke into my house. Three guys, all of which are dead now.”
“Doesn’t sound like a problem, but I’ll be right there,” Xander tells me right before the line goes dead. Only then do I turn the light on to get a better look at the fuckers that tried to kill me. The first guy is sprawled out on the kitchen floor, and not someone I know. Leaving the body, I walk into the foyer to find the other two, and immediately recognize one of the guys. It’s the man who got away from me in the alley last night.
Fuck! This is bad.
How the fuck did he find me? Who the hell is, was, this guy?
The thoughts continue to swirl as I walk back up the stairs to the bedroom, where I knock on the door and say, “Grace, it’s me.” As I unlock the door, Not wanting her to accidentally shoot me. When I don’t hear anything after a few moments, and there is no movement from the closet, I knock on its door.
“Grace, open up, it’s safe, I promise.”
The sound of soft footfalls comes through the door and a moment later I’m pushing the door open carefully just as Grace steps back. She is dressed now, her face pale, and even from a few feet away I can see her whole-body trembling.
“W-what happened?” Her voice is shaky giving away her fear and all I want to do is wrap her up and hold her to my chest, soothe her.
“Some men broke in, but there’s no need to worry, they’ve been taken care of.” I try to assure her, but instead of the look of relief that I was expecting, I find twice as much fear.
“You killed them, didn’t you?” She takes a retreating step backward, and I won’t lie and say I don’t feel it in my chest. All the closeness between us from earlier has vanished into thin air. There is nothing now, just fear, anguish, we’re reliving a vicious cycle where I try and protect her all while showing her who I really am, the man that she so badly doesn’t want me to be.
“I did, but only to protect you.” I wince as I say the words. As if what I’ve said hurts her, she cringes away from me, shaking her head in disbelief.
“No, you did it because that’s what you do. You kill people. You shoot first and ask questions later.”
My lips part and my mouth pops open to respond, to tell her she is wrong, but the thing is, she isn’t. This is what I do. I don’t know how to do it any other way. In my world, it’s kill or be killed. I don’t know how to stop what I’m doing, how to let go, but all I know is that it’s deeply hurting Grace, more than I ever expected it to, and while I told her I wouldn’t change, I’m starting to think maybe that’s the only way I’ll ever be able to fully have her. Instead of soothing her, or telling her what I know she wants or needs to hear, I don’t. I can’t, because I don’t know what to say, not yet.