Bullets screamed through the night air, splintering wood and tearing jagged holes in stone as I hurled Ellie down behind the low wall bordering the garden. My body instinctively positioned itself as a shield, bracing against the imminent danger.
"Keep your head down," I urged, my grip firm on Ellie's shoulder, a contradiction of steady authority and urgent concern.
Her eyes, wide and unyielding, flashed up at me, with defiance blazing within their depths. "I'm not hiding just because you want me to," she declared, her voice a blend of resolve and fear.
Damn stubborn woman. A curse nearly slipped past my lips, but there was no time for that. Three masked figures erupted from the hulking silhouettes of SUVs, rifles raised and ready, moving with the precision of trained soldiers, quick, coordinated, and laser-focused on the house. Still, they had already caught sight of us in the garden.
Panic ignited within me as I drew my pistol in one smooth, practised motion; the weight of it felt grounding amidst the chaos. In that instant, my world narrowed to a singular, relentless focus: protect Ellie, eliminate the threat and survive this war.
The first man raised his weapon, but it was too slow. I squeezed the trigger, and his body crumpled before he could even clear the hedge. The other two split apart, one darting to the right while the other crouched low, rifle steady and menacing.
"Ellie, stay..."
Before I could finish, a deafening blast tore up the ground where I'd been a heartbeat earlier. Ellie yelped, yanking me sideways with surprising strength. She wasn't frozen in terror, but she moved with instinctual agility, pulling me into cover behind the stone planter.
My heart thundered once, hard against my ribs. She had just saved my damn life once again.
"Don't tell me to stay put," she snapped, her voice a mixture of fear and fierce determination. Her knuckles turned bone white around the small gun I had entrusted to her.
Another burst of gunfire rained sparks against the stone as I peeked out, spotting the crouching bastard with malicious intent. One squeeze of the trigger, one decisive moment, and he collapsed into the grass.
But the third man was already upon us.
In a blur of black cloth and shining steel, he vaulted the planter, knife glinting ominously in the dim light. I shoved Ellie back, shielding her as the blade slashed downwards. Pain erupted across my arm; it felt hot, searing, and visceral, but I caught his wrist before the blade could strike again.
We grappled, the world spinning into raw instinct with grit, blood, and survival.
Then, in a flash of movement, Ellie surged forward, her eyes aflame with determination. The small gun became her weapon as she slammed it into the man's face, pressing down with unrelenting force.
He screamed, clawing at his eyes, stumbling back blind with desperation. In that critical moment, I wrenched the knife from his grasp and delivered a swift, brutal strike. He dropped, lifeless.
The silence that followed was deafening, an oppressive weight that enveloped us. My breath came in ragged gasps, blood pooling down my sleeve. Ellie stood resolute beside me, chest heaving, her hands trembling yet steady enough to retain her grip on the small gun.
"You could've been killed," I rasped, my voice cracking under the strain of fear and anger. I gripped her shoulders, forcing her gaze to meet mine.
"And so could you," she shot back, fierce and unflinching. "We're in this together, Tristan. You don't get to fight this war alone."
Her words carved through the adrenaline and haze of violence, leaving nothing but the raw truth hanging between us. We were protecting each other, bound in this relentless struggle for survival.