Page 6 of Rune
It shouldn’t be easy.
It shouldn’t be something you could just shrug and walk away from. Then move on with your life like it never happened.
I thought that maybe my motivation would be enough to, I don’t know, make it all feel righteous and justified.
But I’d been sick to my stomach before I even walked in those doors.
When I’d practically just run into the right guy, I’d been thrown even more.
Not just because he looked different than I’d anticipated.
I guess I’d expected him to look like the monster he was: shifty-eyed, ugly, a perpetual sneer.
But this Rune guy was unexpectedly, well, hot. There was no other word for it. He was model-level gorgeous. The man could have been gracing billboards and high fashion ads instead of being a terrible human being.
He was tall and fit—not overly bulky, but had a nice, broad chest, corded arms, and those strong forearms that a woman could drool over. He had golden-kissed skin, a chiseled jaw, gooey dark eyes, and from what I could tell from the smile that had been forming at first, amazing dimples.
He was panty-melting, traffic-stopping, like-and-follow (and mildly stalk) on socials gorgeous.
Then, oh, then, he had to… save me?
That was what he’d done, right?
He’d saved me.
One second, I laughingly thought I had all the power.
The next, his friends were coming in, and he effortlessly overpowered me. Held me against him.
To hide the gun.
To shield my motives for being there from his biker buddies.
Because they would have acted, wouldn’t they? Pulled out their own guns. Shot first, asked questions later.
By grabbing me, he’d prevented that.
But why? Why would he do that when I’d clearly been there to shoot him?
It wasn’t like the man had any morals to speak of.
Was he just curious what motivated me?
Did his plan involve something a lot slower and more painful than just letting his friends shoot me dead where I stood?
That seemed the most likely situation.
And now he knew what I looked like.
If I was able to track him down (it took absolute ages, but still, it was doable), then surely he could find me. Likely a lot more easily. Knowing all the criminal tricks of the trade.
How long until he was at my place?
Until not only my life was at risk, but my sister’s too?
I couldn’t handle it if he hurt her to get to me.
But I couldn’t run either, could I? Not unless I took her with me. And that would involve having to explain to her what I’d been doing behind her back for almost a year.
