Chapter 5 - Blood on the Glass
The explosion of noise was deafening.
“Get down!” Damian roared, moving with terrifying, predatory speed.
Before Harper’s brain could process what was happening, Damian tackled her to the stone floor of the terrace, throwing his body over hers as a hail of high-caliber sniper rounds chewed through the stone balustrade and shattered the remaining glass doors.
Shards of glass rained down around them like frozen diamonds.
“Sniper! Ridge line to the north!” a guard’s voice bellowed over a tactical radio somewhere in the garden below.
Harper’s ears rang. Her heart hammered against the stone floor as the reality of Damian’s world crashed over her in a wave of raw terror. This wasn't a movie. This was real blood, real bullets, and a real war.
Damian hovered over her, his hands gripping her shoulders, checking her frantically for wounds. His face was a mask of cold, concentrated fury—the face of a king whose sanctuary had just been violated.
“Are you hit?” he demanded, his voice tight.
“No—I’m okay,” Harper gasped, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket.
“Stay down,” Damian ordered.
In one fluid motion, he drew a sleek, suppressed pistol from a holster concealed beneath his suit jacket, rolled away from her, and fired three rapid, calculated shots into the dark tree line across the estate grounds, suppressing the sniper’s vantage point.
Within seconds, armed security teams flooded the terrace, securing the perimeter and forming a protective human wall around Harper and Damian.
Marcus appeared at Damian’s side, breathing heavily. “Boss, the eastern gate is compromised. The sniper used a suppressed bolt-action from the ridge. We’ve locked down the estate.”
Damian rose to his feet, pulling Harper up with him. His dark eyes were burning with a terrifying, glacial wrath. He looked down at her, seeing the pale shock written across her face, and a muscle ticked tightly in his jaw.
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“This is what I tried to protect you from,” Damian said quietly, his voice laced with suppressed rage. “The moment I let you walk away from my shop that night, I put a target on your back. And I intend to make sure whoever authorized this pays for it in blood.”
Harper looked at him, realizing in that single, shattering second that there was no going back to her quiet life among the flowers. The alleyway kiss hadn’t been a random act of charity; it had been the catalyst for a war.
