Chapter 2 A Gunshot

• RIVER’S P.O.V
• The knock on my door grew furious and demanding, the wooden hook threatening to let loose at the constant banging.
• I groaned as I got up from the bed, angry at the interference and basking in the euphoric moment I was having in my dream. That person better have a good reason for cutting short the moment I was having with my mysterious man in the dream.
• I took in my reflection in the mirror and winced slightly at my image. My dark hair, hanging out like a nest for birds and my eye bags were clear and my face looked swollen like I had just finished a fist fight.
• I opened the door, and my breath hitched at the sight before me.
• It was him, the man from days ago, the one whose good looks I could not stop imagining about. He stood there, an unreadable expression on his face, his gaze hard as it met mine.
• “Hi,” I said barely loud enough, still trying to understand why he was here, standing right in front of me.
• “Are you his girlfriend?” he asked, his voice low and cutting. His expression, hard and stern.
• I blinked, too shocked to respond. His girlfriend? Who was he talking about?
• Before I could find my voice, another man appeared behind him, glancing at me briefly before turning to the stranger at my door.
• “Boss, this is the wrong location,” he said calmly.
• The stranger gave me one last, blank look before he nodded, and they both turned and walked away, leaving me standing in the doorway, heart pounding.
• The shock of seeing him at my door remained even after he left, leaving me staring at the door. It took me a moment to process what had just happened, my heart still pounding.
• Just then, my phone buzzed from the table. I glanced down, and a rent reminder notification flashed across the screen. I sighed, the thoughts of overdue bills pressing on me even more.
• A moment later, another notification popped up this time, a text from Angel.
• Angel: “Hey, don’t you want your money? Miss Gold paid yesterday. Where were you?”
• I stared at the message, feeling my heart sink. Miss Gold had promised payment in two days, and now she had gone ahead without telling me. I couldn’t afford to miss out on that money.
• Quickly, I threw off my nightgown and scrambled to get ready, my mind racing. I texted Angel back with a quick “Thanks!” and rushed out the door, desperate to make it to the hall before it was too late.
• ---
• The walk back from Madonna’s Hall was long and cold, Miss Gold’s words still ringing in my ears. The sting of her insults burned more than the denial of payment. After keeping me waiting outside her office for hours, she had finally emerged only to hurl insults, calling me “lazy” and “ungrateful.” And then she’d refused to pay me a single cent.
• Tears pricked at my eyes as I thought of my father. His death had left my life in ruins, and my uncle Valentino hadn’t wasted a moment seizing everything I had. I’d been on my own since, barely surviving on the kindness of Angel. The apartment I now called home was far from what I was used to, but it was mine or would be, if I could just make rent.
• The apartment I now called home wasn’t what I was used to, but it was cozy, a small comfort in the chaos. Yet even that small solace was about to slip through my fingers, all because of a mistake I hadn't even fully caused. The thought of losing it was difficult and overbearing for me but I was jerked out of my thoughts by the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
• Lost in thought, I nearly missed the sharp crack of a gunshot. The loud noise pierced the silence, jolting me back to the present.
• I stopped, heart pounding. Somewhere close by, I heard a groan, followed by muffled voices. The sounds were coming from behind an abandoned building to my right.
• My instincts screamed at me to turn and walk away. Run, even. But something held me there. Curiosity or maybe stupidity drew me closer.
• Carefully, I crept around the corner. Seven men stood in a circle, their movements firm as they closed in on a single figure in the middle. Despite being outnumbered, the man held his ground, tall and unyielding, though his hand was pressed against his side, blood dripping through his fingers.
• I watched, horrified, as he fought off his attackers. Even wounded, his movements were sharp, precise, strong.
• And then I recognized him.
• My breath caught in my throat. It was him, the man from the party. The one from this morning too.My heart thundered at the sight, he seemed to be in danger.
• As I hide around the corner, I battle withi
• n myself if it was worth risking my life for. Should I help him?