Page 281 of Fatality

A hand—his—shifts and clamps around my upper arm and pulls me flush against his chest.

One hand settles between my shoulder blades while the other slides back to the nape of my neck.

He doesn't say a word.

He just holds me, my ear pressed against his heartbeat.

I can feel his chest rise and fall with every breath.

“Guards are coming,” he whispers. “Stay behind me and don’t fucking interfere.”

I hear shouts and the rapid thud of footsteps racing toward us.

Evren shoves me behind him.

The lights snap back on just as a squad of armed guards rounds the corner.

“Don't move!” one of them shouts, leveling his weapon at us. “Hands in the air!”

I obey instantly and glance at Evren.

He isn't going to do it, I know he won't.

But a small part of me still hopes he won't escalate this.

“Or what?” His voice is calm, almost amused, openly taunting the guard.

I sigh.

Of course.

Another guard steps forward and looks down at the device.

“What is this?”

And before I can shut my mouth.

“Your dick.” I answer flatly.

Evren shoots me a look that clearly says shut the fuck up.

The guard's eyes darken, and he swings his weapon toward my head.

“You think this is funny?”

I don’t even have time to answer, before Evren moves.

His hand shoots out, seizing the barrel of the rifle.

In the same motion, he rips it from the guard's grip and slams the stock into the man's nose.

The others react instantly and open fire, I yelp in horror and dive to the floor, covering my head.

I can't see what's happening but I can hear it—Evren's laughter, bones snapping, cries of pain, bullets tearing into the walls.

“Don't.” A heavy thud. “Point.” Another impact, followed by a sharp gasp. “Your gun.” A strangled gurgle. “At what's mine.”

A sharp crack echoes through the corridor.