The Unseen Enemy

Amara

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The silence that followed Ronan's words was suffocating. Trust is a luxury you can't afford. His statement echoed in my mind, laced with more weight than I could comprehend. The room felt colder, the space between us stretched taut with unspoken truths and mounting tension.

I crossed my arms, trying to steady my breath as I watched him. Ronan stood by the window, his back to me, his silhouette sharp against the city lights. He hadn't moved since he spoke, his stillness unsettling. It felt like he was waiting for me to respond, or maybe daring me to challenge him.

"You can't keep doing this," I said finally, my voice breaking the heavy quiet. "Throwing out these cryptic warnings and expecting me to just… follow blindly."

Ronan turned slowly, his expression unreadable. "I'm keeping you alive, Amara. That's all you need to know."

I took a step closer, my frustration bubbling over. "No. That's not enough. I'm not some chess piece for you to move around as you please. If I'm in danger, I deserve to know why."

"You're in danger because of who you are," he said, his voice calm but cutting. "Because of your family, your name, and the decisions you've made."

"My decisions?" I shot back, my anger rising. "You mean the decision to trust you? To marry you? You're acting like this is all my fault, like I asked for this!"

"You didn't ask for danger," he said, stepping toward me, his tone quieter now but no less intense. "But you walked into it. And now you have to deal with the consequences."

I hated the way his words made sense, hated the way he could strip my defences bare with a single glance. "What aren't you telling me?" I demanded. "What's really going on, Ronan?"

He hesitated, just for a moment, but it was enough to spark the doubt already simmering inside me. "You're not ready for those answers," he said finally, his voice steady. "Not yet."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the sharp chime of his phone cut through the tension. Ronan pulled it from his pocket, his gaze flicking to the screen. Whatever he saw there darkened his expression, his jaw tightening as he read.

"What now?" I asked, my pulse quickening. "Another cryptic warning?"

He ignored me, typing something quickly before slipping the phone back into his pocket. "You're staying here," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Like hell I am," I shot back. "You don't get to order me around without giving me a single reason to trust you."

His gaze snapped to mine, sharp and unrelenting. "You don't have to trust me, Amara. You just have to do as you're told."

Before I could respond, the lights flickered. It was subtle at first, a brief dimming that could have been chalked up to a power surge. But then it happened again, longer this time, the shadows in the room stretching and deepening.

Ronan moved instantly, crossing the room in two long strides to grab my arm. "We're leaving," he said, his voice low and urgent.

"What's going on?" I asked, my heart pounding as he pulled me toward the door.

"No questions," he snapped, his grip firm but not painful. "Just move."

We barely made it to the hallway when the sound of glass shattering echoed from the living room. I froze, my breath hitching as fear clawed at my chest. Ronan didn't stop, his hand tightening around mine as he led me toward the private elevator at the end of the hall.

"Ronan?"

"Keep moving," he said, cutting me off. His focus was razor-sharp, his free hand reaching for his phone as he typed something with practiced ease. The elevator doors opened, and he ushered me inside, his body shielding mine as if he expected an attack at any moment.

The descent was silent except for the pounding of my heart. I pressed myself against the wall, my mind racing. "What was that?" I asked finally, my voice trembling. "Who's after us?"

Ronan didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost too calm. "The kind of people who don't give second chances."

The elevator doors opened to the underground parking garage, and Ronan led me to a sleek black car parked near the exit. He opened the passenger door for me, his movements quick but careful.

"Get in," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door handle. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

"Amara," he said, his voice sharper now, his gaze locking onto mine. "Every second we waste is a second they gain. Get in the car. Now."

The urgency in his tone left no room for defiance. I slid into the passenger seat, my heart hammering as he closed the door behind me and rounded the car. As he started the engine, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was plunging deeper into a game where the stakes were far higher than I'd realized.

And Ronan? He was the only one who seemed to know the rules.

••

The engine's low growl filled the silence as Ronan maneuvered the car out of the parking garage with precision. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, the only sign of the tension he otherwise masked so well. The headlights cut through the darkness of the empty street, but it felt like the shadows followed us anyway, thick and oppressive.

I twisted in my seat to face him, my pulse still racing. "You can't keep doing this, Ronan. Dragging me from one crisis to another without an explanation."

He didn't look at me, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "I already told you. The less you know, the safer you are."

I clenched my fists, my frustration bubbling over. "How am I supposed to stay safe when I don't even know what I'm up against? You expect me to just blindly follow you while someone out there is trying to —" My voice broke, the weight of everything crashing down. "To kill me?"

His grip on the wheel tightened, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. But then he spoke, his voice quieter, rawer. "You're not going to die, Amara."

The certainty in his tone caught me off guard, silencing my protests. There was no doubt, no hesitation, just the kind of conviction that came from a man who didn't make promises lightly. And yet, it only fuelled my anger.

"How can you say that?" I demanded. "You don't know what's going to happen. You can't control everything, no matter how much you want to."

He finally turned to glance at me, just for a second, but the intensity in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs. "Watch me."

The two words were a challenge, a vow, and a warning all at once. They left no room for argument, and I hated how much they unsettled me. My heart pounded as I stared at him, torn between wanting to believe him and wanting to scream at the impossibility of it all.

The silence stretched between us as the car sped through the empty streets, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white. I shifted in my seat, my fingers curling against the leather. "Ronan," I said finally, my voice softer now, almost hesitant. "What aren't you telling me?"

He didn't answer immediately, his jaw tightening as he navigated a sharp turn. "There are things about my world you don't want to know."

"I didn't ask for this," I said, my voice trembling. "But I'm here now. I deserve the truth."

His shoulders rose and fell in a slow, deliberate breath. "You deserve to live," he said, his tone cutting but not unkind. "And if that means keeping you in the dark, then so be it."

I stared at him, anger and desperation swirling inside me. "You can't protect me if I don't know what's coming."

His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he said, "The people after you aren't just dangerous. They're ruthless. If they think you're vulnerable, they'll use that against you. And if they think you're scared…" He trailed off, his gaze darkening. "They'll take everything."

The weight of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket, suffocating and inescapable. "And you think keeping me in the dark will stop that?"

"I think it'll keep you alive," he said simply.

Before I could respond, the car screeched to a sudden stop. My heart lurched as I grabbed the dashboard for balance, my gaze snapping to the windshield. We were on a quiet, deserted street, but Ronan's attention wasn't on the road. His eyes were locked on the rearview mirror, his body tense.

"What is it?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Ronan didn't answer. Instead, he reached for something under his seat, a sleek, matte-black pistol. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of fear crashing over me.

"Stay in the car," he said, his voice low and deadly calm.

My eyes widened. "Ronan, what the f—"

"Stay. In. The. Car." He turned to look at me, his gaze as sharp as a blade. "Do not move. Do not open the door. Do you understand me?"

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Without another word, he stepped out of the car, his movements fluid and purposeful. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, leaving me alone in the deafening silence.

Through the windshield, I could see him scanning the street, his posture rigid, his every step deliberate. The air felt heavier, the shadows deeper, as if the night itself was conspiring against us. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay still even as every instinct screamed at me to run. Whatever was happening, Ronan was out there, facing it head-on. And as much as I hated feeling helpless, I couldn't shake the sinking feeling that I was just a pawn in a game I didn't know how to play.

••

I sat frozen, the leather seat beneath me feeling like a prison. My eyes stayed locked on Ronan's figure as he moved like a shadow across the street. He was calm, calculated, but there was an edge to his movements—a coiled tension that set my nerves alight. The pistol in his hand caught the faint glow of a streetlamp, its presence an ominous reminder of just how dangerous this night had become.

I strained to see what he was looking for, but the darkness beyond the car was impenetrable. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out every rational thought. My hand hovered over the door handle, the urge to follow him battling with the memory of his command: Stay in the car.

A sudden noise shattered the silence—a metallic clang, sharp and jarring. I jumped, my breath catching in my throat. Ronan froze, his head snapping toward the sound. He raised the gun slightly, his stance shifting as he moved toward the source of the noise.

Time seemed to stretch, every second agonizingly slow as I watched him disappear around the corner of a building. My stomach twisted. He was out of sight now, leaving me alone with nothing but the eerie stillness of the street.

I reached for my phone, fumbling with the screen as my trembling fingers tried to unlock it. No signal. Of course. My heart sank as I stared at the useless device, panic creeping in at the edges of my mind.

Another sound, closer this time. A soft scrape, like footsteps on gravel. My head snapped up, my eyes darting toward the rearview mirror. Shadows shifted in the distance, movement too deliberate to be imagined. Someone was there.

Before I could think, before I could decide what to do, the car door on the driver's side jerked violently. I screamed, my body recoiling as the handle rattled again, harder this time.

"Ronan!" I shouted, my voice breaking as I scrambled to the far side of the seat.

The handle stilled for a fraction of a second, and then a face appeared at the window. My breath seized in my lungs. The glass distorted the features, but the cruel twist of a smirk was unmistakable. The stranger's lips moved, and though I couldn't hear the words, the meaning was clear. You're mine.

I lunged for the lock button, my shaking fingers finding it just as the window cracked under the force of a blow. The sound was deafening, the glass spiderwebbing as shards began to fall into the car.

Panic surged through me, and I clambered toward the passenger door. My hands fumbled with the latch, my mind screaming at me to run, but before I could get it open, the car jolted violently. The stranger was on the hood now, his weight rocking the vehicle as his fist slammed down against the windshield.

"Ronan!" I screamed again, tears streaming down my face.

As if summoned by the desperation in my voice, Ronan appeared. His silhouette emerged from the shadows, his movements precise and deadly. The streetlights caught the glint of the pistol in his hand, a stark reminder of just how dangerous he could be. He moved with a predator's grace, his steps deliberate, calculated, each one carrying the promise of violence.

"Get off the car. Now." His voice rang out, low and commanding, slicing through the chaos like a blade.

The man on the hood froze, his head tilting slightly as if to taunt Ronan. My breath caught, my chest heaving as I watched, paralyzed by a fear so visceral it felt like it was suffocating me. The stranger's smirk widened, his gaze flicking to me for a split second, and I saw it—malice, sharp and unrelenting, like he knew this wasn't over.

Ronan took a step closer, the pistol steady in his hand, his aim unwavering. "I won't repeat myself," he growled, his tone colder now, threaded with a dangerous finality.

The man hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then, with terrifying speed, he vaulted off the hood. His movements were fluid, too smooth, as he disappeared into the shadows, the darkness swallowing him whole.

I gasped, my body trembling as the adrenaline surged, then ebbed, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. Ronan didn't lower the gun. His eyes darted to every corner of the street, scanning, searching, his body taut like a coiled spring. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with the promise of more danger.

When he was satisfied—or as close to it as a man like Ronan could ever be—he circled back to the car. The door swung open, and before I could speak, he was there, his hands gripping my arms with a force that was both grounding and overwhelming.

"Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice rough, edged with a rawness I hadn't heard before. His eyes, stormy and unrelenting, searched mine, his grip tightening as if he was afraid I might disappear.

I shook my head, words escaping me as the lump in my throat grew. The warmth of his hands on my arms was a stark contrast to the icy fear still coursing through me, but it wasn't enough to calm the tremor in my body.

"You're shaking," he said, his tone quieter now but no less intense. "Amara, look at me. Are. You. Hurt?"

"N-No," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm fine."

His jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something that looked an awful lot like relief. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the impenetrable mask he always wore.

"We need to go," he said, his voice returning to that sharp, commanding tone. He released me only to grab my hand, his grip firm as he pulled me from the car. "They'll be back."

"Who was that?" I asked, my voice shaking, but he didn't answer. He didn't even glance at me, his focus locked on the shadows beyond.

"Stay close," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "And don't stop moving. No matter what."

Just as we reached the corner, another sound split the air, a deep, mechanical whine. I turned, my stomach dropping as headlights flared to life in the distance. A black SUV roared toward us, its speed leaving no doubt about its intent.

"Run," Ronan said, his hand tightening around mine. "Now."

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