Chapter 13: Chapter 12. Always Make Sure to Show Bravery to Your Enemies

~Damn.~ The thought echoed in my mind.

I found myself staring at Logan, a numb sensation washing over me. He just stood there, as if he was waiting for my next move. I took him in.

He was still wearing the same grungy black outfit from the last time I saw him. His hair was a mess and dark circles shadowed his eyes.

A bullet hole marked his pants where I’d shot his kneecap. His gang loomed behind him, their eyes filled with hatred and a thirst for revenge.

I couldn’t blame them; I had shot at them. But I’m sure anyone would do the same in a life-or-death situation.

Seeing Logan alive filled me with a mix of relief and fear.

I subtly shifted my right foot, positioning myself for a quick escape if needed. I’d always told myself that if I were to die, I’d go down fighting.

No one seemed to notice my small adjustment. They just stared into my eyes. Finally, tired of the tense silence, I broke it.

I squared my shoulders, a show of courage, and put on a smug smile. ~Always show bravery to your enemies.~

I raised an eyebrow at Logan, questioning, before shifting my gaze to James. I kept my face blank.

I’d had years of practice hiding my emotions, but James hadn’t. He was still as easy to read as the first time I met him.

He wore a black leather jacket and faded blue jeans with cuts in them. Black leather shoes covered his feet and his hair was swept to the side, as always.

His usually warm brown eyes were filled with regret and sadness. Why? I didn’t know. But it didn’t change the fact that I’d been set up by James himself.

I slowly shook my head at him, disappointment washing over me. I couldn’t believe he’d stoop so low as to want me dead at the hands of these men. I guess he really did hate me.

“How are you, this fine chilly night, Claire?” Logan finally broke the silence.

He looked at me with a smug smirk of his own, but I could see the fear hidden in his eyes at my brave stance.

I tilted my head and gave a curt nod. “Was fine actually. But let’s skip the small talk, shall we? I already know you want to see me six feet under.”

I shrugged, trying to hide the fear that was lurking in my eyes.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James tense up at my words. But I didn’t give it much thought.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You seem quite eager for this,” he commented, a grin playing on his lips.

I shook my head and slipped my hands into my back pockets, searching for the mini-Swiss army knife I’d stashed there for emergencies.

Once I had a firm grip on it, I slowly brought out one of the blades, keeping my eyes on Logan and his gang.

I noticed James slowly backing away, as if he was expecting a fight to break out soon. I smirked inwardly, pleased that he was scared of the impending chaos.

“Now why would I be eager for my death, Logan?” I chided him. “I’m just telling you to stop stalling and get to it.” I shrugged.

He eyed me skeptically, as if sensing that something was about to happen. And something was, but he didn’t need to know that yet, did he?

Before he could reach for his gun, I grabbed a nearby pebble and threw it at him. I decided to save my knife for when I really needed it. For now, I’d just have to improvise.

I heard Logan curse loudly before I took off running. Shouts and more cursing followed me as I sprinted down the alleyway.

My breath came in heavy gasps and my palms were sweaty from clenching them tightly.

Soon, I could hear bullets whizzing past me and I quickly rounded a corner. My heart pounded in my chest with each step I took.

My legs and muscles began to ache, but that didn’t slow me down. I wasn’t running home, or to Nancy’s. I was just running away.

I risked a glance back and my eyes widened. Logan, three of his guys, and James were all chasing me with guns!

~

I closed my eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again and picking up speed. I think this was the fastest I’d ever run. And I’d only been running for about five to ten minutes.

I groaned when I heard more bullets whizzing past, but they missed me by a mile! ~Wow, they really need to learn how to aim better!~

~

I thought as I rounded another sharp corner. My breathing was ragged and heavy now, but I wouldn’t stop until I was sure I was safe.

I was pushing myself to the limit and I could hear the faint sounds of bullets. That meant I was getting farther away.

I looked back again and sighed with relief. They were far behind me and the more I ran, the less I saw of them.

A slow smile spread across my lips and I turned my head forward again.

I didn’t even see it coming. I crashed into someone and we both tumbled to the ground, clutching our heads and groaning from the impact.

I tried to catch my breath as I clutched my throbbing head. My legs ached and my heart pounded so hard I was surprised it hadn’t burst out of my chest yet.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and everything was blurry for a moment, making me feel dizzy.

“Sh!t!” I cursed when I tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness washed over me.

“Whoa there. Easy.” A familiar voice cooed as arms wrapped around me, steadying me.

I was thoroughly confused when I opened my eyes again, and saw Blake. But I saw three Blakes. All of whom were looking at me with concern in their eyes.

But when the need to close my eyes became too overwhelming, I slowly slid them closed and surrendered to the darkness that enveloped me.

BLAKE

I was out for a quick run when I heard the gunshots. I stopped in my tracks, looking around. The shots sounded alarmingly close and I felt a wave of fear wash over me.

I’d decided to go for a light jog after another argument with my dad. He was always nagging about my grades, my friends, and my one-night stands. He wanted me to be successful in life, and I would be.

I've got to say, my grades aren't half bad. I'm pulling As and Bs, not a C, D, or F in sight. For a guy like me, that's pretty solid.

My dad's always been the overachiever, the one who wanted a son to take over his business someday.

But he's always buried in work, so I hardly see him. When we do cross paths, it usually ends in a shouting match, like today. I've got a little sister, nine years old, and the best stay-at-home mom in the world.

She's been my rock through everything. Even when I had a fleeting dream of becoming a professional boxer. But that was a long time ago, and I was just a kid. Now, I don't have a clue what I want to do with my life.

The gunshots grew louder, more distinct. I hit the pavement, my body slamming against the hard surface.

I looked up just in time to see someone sprint past me, followed by a group of guys. Once they were out of sight, I slowly got to my feet and scanned the distance.

The girl was fast, too fast for the six guys chasing her.

Something about her seemed familiar.

I took a quick turn and sprinted down a shortcut. I glanced to my side. The guys had stopped, but they were still firing their guns into the distance.

I squinted—one of them looked familiar. I shook off the feeling and kept running.

I didn't realize someone else had stopped until we collided. The girl cursed as we both tumbled to the ground.

I shook my head and looked up. A hood covered the girl's face as she tried to recover from the fall. But she was struggling.

She swayed a bit, trying to stand. I got up too, and when she started to topple, I quickly stepped in, wrapping my arms around her waist to keep her upright.

Her hood fell back, and my arms instinctively tightened around her when I saw it was Claire. She looked at me, her expression strange.

It was as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Then, her eyes fluttered closed, and she went limp in my arms.

I was puzzled by her fainting. But when I looked closer, I noticed a bruise forming on her forehead. And that wasn't all.

I gently wiped away the remaining foundation on her face.

I nearly gasped at the sight of the black and purple bruise that was revealed. I looked down at her, taking in the faint bruises and scars on her face.

They were barely noticeable, but if you looked closely, they were there.

I started to wonder how she got these bruises. Was she being abused, or was she just really clumsy?

The thought of her being abused made me raise an eyebrow. Who was she running from?

I shook my head, deciding it would be best to take her with me and let her rest. When she woke up, I'd ask her.

I nodded to myself and picked her up, cradling her in my arms. I paused, savoring the comforting feeling. It felt right, like Claire was meant to be in my arms forever.

I chuckled to myself. ~Blake Johnson, you've really lost it.~

I shook my head and started walking Claire back to my house. She'd probably freak out at first, but once I explained, she'd understand, right?

It took about half an hour, but when I got back to my house, it was quiet. My dad's car was gone, so he must've stormed off after our fight, just like I did.

“Blake, honey, is that—” My mom stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening at the sight of Claire's limp body in my arms.

My mom was petite, even shorter than me. She was in her late forties, with dark hair and hazel eyes. I mostly took after her, except for my eyes—they were my dad's.

“Uh, Mom, I can explain,” I started, but then Anya, my little sister, walked in.

“Uh…” She trailed off, looking up at Mom. Mom's eyes were fixed on me.

“Well…” Mom gestured for me to explain.

“I was out jogging and literally ran into my friend,” I said, nodding toward Claire. “She hit her head harder than I thought and passed out. So, I brought her here.” I kept it simple.

Mom sighed but looked at Claire. After a few minutes, Anya smiled. “She's pretty,” she said.

Mom nodded. “She is.” She turned back to me. “So, what are you planning to do with her?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “Oh, I don't know. I carried her all the way here just to dump her on the curb,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mom pursed her lips. “I suppose she can stay here until she wakes up. Put her on the couch.” She pointed to the dark blue leather couch in our living room.

“I was going to put her in my—”

“No. She's not going in your room. Put her on the couch. Now.” She insisted, her eyes daring me to argue.

I sighed but walked over and gently laid Claire on the couch.

I stood back up and stretched, relieved to be free of the extra weight—not that Claire was heavy—but I missed the warmth that had enveloped me.

“Your father will be back in a few hours. He said he had some work to do for the company,” Mom informed me.

I scoffed. “When doesn't he have work to do,” I muttered.

Mom sighed, while Anya sat on the couch next to Claire, studying her.

“Anya, honey, what are you doing?” Mom asked when Anya made a face.

“What's that?” Anya pointed to the bruises on Claire's face.

Mom, just now noticing them, gasped and took a closer look at Claire.

I rolled my eyes when they both looked at me, expecting an answer. “Don't ask me. I was wondering the same thing,” I shrugged.

Mom huffed. “Alright then. I'll go get some ice. Dinner will be ready soon. She's welcome to stay if she wants.” Mom pointed.

I glanced at the clock. It was 7:42 p.m.

I was due at the alley for White Wolf’s matches tonight. It was her final match before her spring hiatus.

“Actually, Mom, I need to be somewhere by eight...” I tried to explain, hoping she’d understand.

But she just stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Blake Jonson! I thought I raised you better than this,” she chastised.

“You bring this girl home and now you’re just going to abandon her. No. You’re not leaving tonight. Once she wakes up, you can go but—”

Her words were cut short by a groan from the couch.

We both held our breath as we watched Claire stir, slowly sitting up. Her hair was a wild mess, her eyes were clouded with sleep, and she was rubbing her head.

“What the...” she mumbled, looking at us.

I gave her an awkward wave. “Hey, Claire.” At the sound of my voice, she leapt off the couch, her eyes wide.

“Shit,” she muttered, groaning again as another wave of pain hit her from the sudden movement.

She opened her mouth as if to ask something, then closed it and shook her head, as if deciding against it.

“What time is it?” she asked instead. This caught both me and my mom off guard. I was half expecting her to unleash a string of curses at me.

I tilted my head. “7:45 p.m.,” I replied.

Her eyes widened as she stood up fully, taking in her surroundings before looking back at me.

“Oh shit,” she muttered again, then turned to my mom. “Hi, hello. I’m sorry. I need to go. I’m really sorry.” She rushed out her words, then bolted out of the house.

My mom and I exchanged a what-the-hell look. I just shrugged.

“Well then, I guess you can go now.” My mom dismissed me, still baffled by what had just happened. Honestly, I was too.

I shrugged again, grabbed my jacket, and headed out.

~What was that all about with Claire?~