Page 73 of Her Mercenary

Had he assumed we’d been shot?

I blinked wildly, peering past Roman’s body that covered me. Moonlight cut through the canopy. Shadows danced along the trees like ghosts coming for us.

Did I see someone else? Was there another shooter? Were we being flanked?

I was sure I was about to have a full-blown heart attack.

Roman, on the other hand, was like a statue, barely even breathing, it seemed.

Suddenly, everything went still.

The man, the breeze, the screaming bugs, the entire world around us.

Click.

I felt the slightest movement from Roman as he repositioned his foot.

Fear wrapped around my throat like a vise as I listened to the man slowly peering around the tree.

Roman lunged off my body, the swoosh of a knife being pulled from his boot in time with the lightning-quick speed of his attack.

I scrambled backward as Roman barreled into the shooter headfirst, shoving the knife in the man’s stomach.

The moonlight caught the man’s face the moment the blade severed his internal organs. Black eyes locked on mine in surprise. Fear. Sadness.

I recognized him as one of the guards.

I gasped, propelling myself backward, falling over the tree roots, and covered my ears as Roman violently pumped the knife in and out of the man, the sickening suction sound curdling my stomach.

Roman was an animal. Vicious.

It was shocking, jarring, right to my soul.

The man slumped over Roman’s shoulder, his glassy eyes still on mine. Roman straightened, allowing the man’s body to slip off his. The guard landed with a hard thud on the ground.

I stared at the back of Roman’s silhouette, his head hung low, his hunched shoulders rising and falling heavily with adrenaline, blood dripping from the knife in his blood-covered hand.

Nerves cut through the curdling in my stomach.

He turned, and our eyes locked. Then he stared at the man for a moment.

My pulse roared as I stared at him, and for a moment, I imagined him kneeling down, decapitating and mutilating the dead body, because what he’d done simply wasn’t enough.

There was a side to Roman that was absolutely terrifying. In that moment, I wondered how much of this savage, barbarous side of him would forever remain in his soul.

He wiped the knife against his pants, cleaning the blade and smearing more blood on himself. Blood that wasn’t his own.

With the knife in his grasp, Roman returned to me silently and resumed his position of protection.

We lay there for hours between the roots, unmoving, silent, until finally, Roman deemed it safe to rise from our hiding spot.

There were no words spoken as he wrapped me into his arms, cradled me like a baby, and carried me back to our campsite.

No words as he laid me down, wrapped me in his arms, and pulled me tight against him.

Finally, I fell asleep.

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