Chapter 6 - The Getaway
Harper’s hands shook violently, but she kept the heavy pistol aimed squarely at the doorway.
The first mercenary stepped into the frame, his assault rifle raised to finish them off.
Harper closed her eyes and pulled the trigger, the recoil sending a sharp jolt of pain up her arms.
The bullet struck the mercenary directly in the chest plate, knocking him backward into the hallway with a heavy thud.
The unexpected resistance caused the remaining attackers to pause, buying them precious seconds.
Roman groaned and forced himself up with his uninjured arm, his face pale and covered in sweat.
"Hit the emergency seal button on the wall," Roman rasped, his breathing heavy and ragged.
Harper scrambled backward and smashed her fist into the glowing red panel beside the heavy iron door.
The massive steel barricade slammed shut with a deafening clang, sealing them safely inside the escape tunnel.
Roman slumped against the concrete wall, clutching his bleeding shoulder as he gasped for air.
Harper rushed to his side, tearing off a piece of her expensive dress to press tightly against his wound.
"You're losing too much blood," Harper panicked, her hands completely covered in his crimson blood.
"I have survived far worse than this," Roman muttered through gritted teeth, offering a weak, reassuring smile.
He slowly pushed himself to his feet, heavily leaning his weight onto Harper's small frame.
They stumbled through the pitch-black tunnel for what felt like miles, guided only by the dim emergency lights.
The tunnel finally ended at a rusted metal ladder leading up to a heavy manhole cover.
Harper climbed up and pushed the cover aside with all her strength, gasping as the cool night air hit her face.
They emerged into a deserted alleyway behind a massive, abandoned industrial shipping yard.
A sleek, black motorcycle was hidden under a camouflage tarp near a stack of wooden pallets.
Roman tossed Harper the keys, his energy rapidly fading as blood loss took its toll.
"You have to drive," Roman ordered, slumping heavily against the brick wall.
Harper strapped a spare helmet onto his head and helped him onto the back of the powerful machine.
She climbed on in front, revving the engine to life, feeling the sheer, raw power vibrating beneath her.
Roman wrapped his uninjured arm tightly around her waist, resting his heavy head against her back.
Harper sped out of the alleyway, tearing through the empty city streets, desperate to find a safe place to hide.
She didn't know where to go, but she remembered a small, abandoned cabin her grandfather used to own in the woods outside the city.
She pushed the motorcycle to its absolute limit, fleeing into the dark, protective cover of the dense forest.
When they finally arrived at the secluded cabin, Roman was completely unconscious, his grip completely slack around her waist.
Harper practically dragged his heavy body inside, laying him gently onto the dusty sofa in the center of the room.
She immediately ripped his ruined shirt open to inspect the bullet wound, praying she could save his life.
Tucked into the interior pocket of his jacket, covered in his blood, was a folded piece of paper.
Harper carefully pulled it out and unfolded the document, expecting to see a map or a hit list.
May you like
Instead, she stared in absolute horror at a printed marriage certificate.
The document legally bound Harper and Roman Falco as husband and wife, and it was dated completely legitimately from three years ago.
