Page 49 of The Enemy Protector
Sofia
I’m standing in line outside a new club with Tori. I’m doing my best to look normal. I want to be a regular twenty-one-year-old waiting to get into a club with her best friend. I hate clubs.
For obvious reasons.
But I’m tired of being afraid.
I remind myself it’s safe. I’ve got Gregor. He promised me he’ll get into the club one way or another if I hit the panic button. I’ve got my lipstick. I wanted to take my .38 but no way I’d clear security. I’m smart. I don’t need a weapon. I’ve trained for three years. I can fight.
No one will hurt me.
“Earth to Sofia,” Tori says, waving her hand in front of my face. “You’re doing that thing again where you zone out and look like you’re planning someone’s murder.”
I force a laugh. “Sorry. Just thinking about the midterm.”
“Liar. You’re thinking about your scary life. Which we’re not doing tonight. Tonight, we’re dancing and drinking overpriced cocktails and forgetting about everything else.”
She’s right. I need this. One night where I’m not looking over my shoulder. One night where I’m not calculating exits and threat assessments. I’m going to dance. I’m going to be normal.
Although, normal does feel overrated.
The line moves forward. We’re almost to the door when Tori launches into a story about her linguistics professor who apparently showed up to class wearing two different shoes.
And then a sound I know too well.
I grab Tori’s arm. “Get down!”
POP! POP! POP!
Everything slows and speeds up at the same time. I’m on the ground, pulling Tori down with me. More shots. People screaming. The squeal of tires. Glass shattering somewhere behind us.
My cheek is pressed against the cold concrete. I can smell urine and something metallic—blood. I don’t know if it’s mine.
The soft thud of a body hitting the concrete followed by a soft groan. I open my eyes, only then realizing I had closed them. A man is staring back at me. Blood trickles from his nose.
Tori is screaming. I feel her body shaking against mine.
The shooting stops.
The engine sound fades.
For a few seconds, there’s nothing but ringing in my ears and Tori’s screams. Not just Tori. Screams echo around us.
I’m immersed in chaos. People running. Cries. People shouting names.
I push myself up to my knees. I put my hand on Tori’s back. “Are you hit? Are you hurt?”
She’s staring at me with wide eyes, her face pale in the neon light from the club’s sign. “What the fuck, Sofia? What the actual fuck?”
“Are you hurt?” I ask again, more urgently.
“No. I don’t—I don’t think so.” She sits up. Her pretty blue dress is torn. She’s patting herself down like she can’t quite believe she’s intact. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Someone just—they were shooting at us.”
“At me,” I say quietly.
She looks at me. I see the moment understanding hits. The moment she realizes what I’ve been dealing with.
“I have to go,” she says, scrambling to her feet. “I have to—I need to go home.”
