Duty (2)

Davys was stunned, but it only lasted a second as they both fell to the ground, her on top of him. She grabbed him and rolled over, so they rolled deeper into the dark alleyway. As footsteps seemed to get closer, she put her index on his lips to silence him. Her finger was wet, and Davys noticed it tasted like blood.

She got up from him and walked slowly towards the footsteps, ensuring to stay within the shadows. As soon as the footsteps got close enough, Valerya lunged at the man and a scuffle ensued.

Davys got up immediately but before he could offer help, Valerya managed to get the gun from the stranger and hit him over the head. The gun the man had shot her with had a silencer. It seemed it was a premeditated attack.

Before she could turn, Davys noticed another man coming from the corner, moving as stealthily as a cat. He dragged Valerya back into the shadows and brought out a gun from his boot. He inserted the silencer and shot the man in the thigh.

Valerya could denote two things from that exchange; that he was skilled with a gun because of his accuracy from that distance, and that he wasn't as dumb as he appeared to be.

Three more men appeared to be searching for them from the shadows. They seemed skilled, and obviously prioritized silence. It was clear that they were after Davys. Valerya knew the attackers were professionals, and if she and Davys stayed in the alleyway, they would be dead in a few minutes. She wondered how they would get out of the situation alive.

Davys raised his gun and pointed at a car down the street. The playful, careful man she had met at the club was gone. He shot at the windscreen of the car, and a horrible, whirring noise filled the street, impossible to miss, even from the club. The three men disappeared like they were never there.

Valerya knew she had to capture the assassins. It was the only way of knowing who sent them after Davys. She looked for the man she had knocked out, but he was gone. Davys walked to the assassin he shot and pointed the gun at his head.

"Who sent you?" he asked. The man looked at him with fear in his eyes, then blankness. He was dead.

Valerya bent down and checked the assassin's hand. "He had Fler venom under his fingernails. He poked himself with it to kill himself before we could get the information out of him," she noted.

"Son of a bitch. Let's get out of here," Davys said as he helped Valerya stand.

"Where's your car? I'll drive you to the station," Valerya offered.

As Davys gently but firmly led her to his sleek, modern vehicle, he said, "The last thing I want is to have this public. And if you haven't noticed, you're bleeding. You took a shot for me."

"Oh," Valerya noted as she checked her arm. "It's just a graze." He looked at her for a moment before guiding her into his car. He got in the driver's seat and began pulling out of the vicinity.

"Where are we going?"

"My house," he announced.

"We should go to the station. We have to inform the chief of this. He is the highest authority in the force and he has a lot of power. He'll know what to do," she said. He noticed that she was getting pale.

"I'll take us home. The chief would meet us wherever I say he should," he replied to her stunned gaze.

He drove for a while, until she blurted out suddenly, "Who would want to kill you?"

"Who wouldn't?"

"This was clearly organized."

"I'm used to it," he replied. "This isn't the first time something like this would happen."

"I could tell," she replied.

"I'm to be the next president, and let's say not everyone is in favour of the monarchy type of democracy we have going on. Citizens would vote, but I would be the only candidate, as you know. That doesn't leave much of a choice, does it? I won't let them win though," he said with a reassuring smile.

They drove for several minutes before Valerya started noticing the change in scenery. The houses they now passed were bigger, and more spaced out than others. The buildings had lawns and picket fences, and it was much brighter than the dark alleys they had previously passed.

Davys turned a corner and Valerya noticed a cream-coloured two-storey building, isolated from the houses in the area.

"Open the door," he told Mirabelle as he sped through. The gates opened as soon as he got there and closed automatically after him.

His parking lot was huge, and Valerya noticed the absence of people. "They work during the day, or whenever I'm not home," he replied before she could ask. "I'm not really a people person. The last thing I would want is some crazy maid drugging me so she could have my babies," he joked. "It's happened before," he said with a smile. They both alighted from the vehicle and entered his home.

As Valerya walked through the corridor and into his living room, she wondered what one person would need so much space for. He guided her to the couch and started looking for her zipper.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm trying to know how bad the wound is,"

"You could get a first aid box instead of feeling me up!" she snapped.

He heaved a sigh. "Fine," he said as he went in. A few minutes later, he came out with a box. Without waiting, he ripped the sleeve of her dress clean off. "Having a female officer dying on my property wouldn't look good for my aspirations for being president." He said as he examined the site. "You were right, it just grazed your skin. You're lucky. Now kindly hold still while I clean and patch it up. After my dad gets here, I'll take you to the hospital."

"There'll be no need," she replied. "And President Marjan is coming?" she asked nervously.

"Sure. I called him already. He'll come with the chief," he replied as he worked. When he was done, they sat in silence for several minutes before he blurted, "Thank you… for saving my life. No one's ever done that for me before."

"You're welcome, I would have done it for anyone."

"And I'm sorry for the way I acted earlier. I was completely out of line," he apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. This was obviously a man not used to apologizing.

"I don't accept your apology." She was about to say more when the front door was swung open. President Marjan had arrived.