throat. I opened my mouth to say something—anything—else, when a deafening gunshot sounded outside. Suddenly, the car swerved and something crashed into us, feeling like a boulder smashing into a cliff and sounding like thunder deafening the sky. The metal of the car crunched and we were sent hurtling into the side of the road.
What the hell? I thought. What’s happening? I blinked, trying to see outside the car as we slammed into something that caused the car to stop and our bodies to thrash against the seatbelts. Looking up, head spinning, I saw blood on the glass that separated the front of the car from the back. Panic cut through me.
“You okay?” A voice was trying to push through the heavy white noise that was buzzing in my ears and the seemingly slow-motion visuals outside the car. Gunshots fired in quick succession somewhere in the near distance. My body quickly unfroze . . . but it was to a stark realization.
Tanner was lying across me.
Covering me.
Protecting me.
His blue eyes were looking into mine as he asked again, “Adelita? You okay? We have to move.”
His thick, tattooed arm was an iron seatbelt across my waist. He had kept me safe. He had made sure I wasn’t injured as the car veered into the ditch at the side of the road. Blood trickled from his nose and from a gash in his head. He’d been hurt. Hurt protecting me.
I could hardly breathe at that fact.
And he’d called me by my name. Even with all the chaos, the blood and gunshots, it occurred to me . . . he had called me by my name.
“We need to move,” Tanner said again, moving back from me. Shock rendered me speechless when he took my hand in his. He pulled me to his side of the car, and the door flew open. I held my breath, fearing it would be the attackers, but my fear was quelled when I saw it was Vincente.
“Come, Lita. We need to get you to a safe house.” Another round of gunfire sounded in the distance. My attention was drawn to the mass of red blood on the panel of glass between the seats.
“Marco . . .” I said, my stomach cramping in panic as I saw his eyes wide open, staring at me coldly . . . dead. “No!” I whispered.
“Adelita, come, we need to move,” Vincente said. “We have the attackers busy further down the road, but we need to get you out of here now while we wait for backup. They are strong, and we don’t have enough men to keep you safe.” Tanner pulled me out, keeping me by his side. I was scared, in danger . . . yet I could only concentrate on how Tanner was keeping me close . . . not letting go. My heart stuttered as he shielded me as he scanned the road. I reminded myself of all the awful things he’d said, that he’d done. The way he looked at me. Just to remind myself he wasn’t a good man.
But then I replayed his father hitting him, and Tanner just letting him. Of his words . . . Do you ever feel like your life is not your own . . .?
On Vincente’s command, one of the guards from the second car came over, pulling me from my thoughts. “Get them to the safe house a few miles north,” Vincente ordered. The guard nodded and, holding his gun high, went to make sure the entrance to the forest was clear. Vincente addressed me and Tanner. “Stay there until help arrives. There are supplies if this takes time. An emergency phone to check in on the situation. Cameras to keep watch for anyone approaching.”
“I’m staying to fight,” Tanner said. He looked bloodthirsty, his eyes flaring with adrenaline, the muscles in his neck tensing. My stomach fell at the thought of him staying . . . I tried to push the stupid feeling away. Why did I care if he joined the fight? My father’s guards would protect me. Always had. Let the White Prince fight. Let him take on my father’s enemies and risk his life for the sake of his pride.
Yet the sinking feeling in my stomach didn’t go, no matter how much I tried to convince myself I didn’t care.
I shouldn’t care.
I didn’t want to care.
Do you ever feel like your life is not your own?
Vincente smirked, unmoved by Tanner’s domineering, intimidating presence. “You’ll go with Adelita.