Reborn Heiress: Escaping My Contract Marriage with the Cold CEO-Chapter 82: I’ve Shot a BB Gun

LEONARDO ANNISON

Heat and force rocked our car, the blast’s shockwave rattling the windows. Charles didn’t wait to see the damage. He hit the gas again, peeling away from the wreckage.

Silence.

Then Oliver let out a shaky breath. "Holy shit."

I turned to him. "You okay?"

He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. "Are you serious right now?"

I checked him over anyway. No blood. No fresh injuries. Good.

Charles exhaled sharply. "We need to ditch this car. They’ll have backup."

I nodded. "Take the next turn. We’ll go on foot."

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, disheveled and streaked with soot from the fire. "You guys do this often?"

"Often enough," Charles muttered.

I didn’t answer. My mind was already racing. That hadn’t been a random attack. They’d known where we’d be. Known Oliver would be with me.

Which meant someone had been watching.

Someone close.

***|***|***|***|***

LEONARDO ANNISON

Twenty minutes later, we abandoned the car in an alley and took off on foot. Oliver kept pace, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline. I’d give him this—he didn’t complain. Not even when we scaled a rusted fire escape to avoid a patrol car.

The safe house was a nondescript apartment above a closed bookstore. Charles keyed in the entry code, and the door clicked open.

Oliver stepped inside, glancing around. "Cozy."

It wasn’t. The place was sparse—a couch, a table, a few weapons stashed in hidden compartments. The windows were bulletproof. The locks were military-grade.

I headed straight for the armory panel, inputting my biometrics. The wall slid open, revealing an arsenal.

Oliver whistled. "You planning a war?"

"Yes."

He blinked. "That wasn’t rhetorical."

I grabbed a spare pistol, checked the chamber, and held it out to him. "Can you use this?"

He hesitated, then took it. "I’ve shot a BB gun."

I stared at him.

He shrugged. "What? I grew up in the suburbs."

Charles groaned. "We’re so dead."

I ignored him, stepping closer to Oliver. "Safety’s here. Don’t pull the trigger unless you mean it. Aim for center mass."

Oliver’s fingers tightened around the grip. "You really think I’ll need this?"

I didn’t sugarcoat it. "Yes."

His jaw set. "Then teach me."

Something in his voice—hard, determined—sent a flicker of heat through my chest. I’d underestimated him. Again.

Charles’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then stiffened. "We’ve got a problem."

I already knew. "They found us."

"Worse." He turned the phone toward me. A security feed showed three black vans pulling up outside the bookstore.

Oliver cursed. "How?"

I didn’t answer. Because the truth was worse than he realized.

They hadn’t followed us.

They’d been waiting.

Which meant only one thing.

Someone had betrayed us.

The moment the first boot hit the staircase outside, I knew we were out of time.

Three vans. At least twelve men. All armed, all trained, all here for one reason—Oliver.

And they weren’t leaving without him.

I grabbed Oliver’s arm and shoved the pistol back into his hands. "Stay behind me."

He didn’t argue. His fingers tightened around the grip, his knuckles whitening. No jokes this time. No sarcasm. Just raw, unfiltered survival instinct kicking in.

Good.

Charles already had his weapon drawn, pressed flat against the wall beside the door. His voice was low, controlled. "They’ll breach in under a minute."

I nodded. "You take the left flank. I’ll cover Oliver."

Charles shot me a look. "You sure that’s the play?"

No. But I wasn’t letting Oliver out of my sight.

A heavy thud shook the door—someone testing its strength. Then silence. They were regrouping. Planning.

Oliver exhaled sharply. "They’re gonna break in, aren’t they?"

"Yes."

"And we’re gonna shoot them?"

"Yes."

He swallowed. "Okay. Just checking."

Another thud. Harder this time. The doorframe splintered.

I moved without thinking, pushing Oliver back toward the far wall, behind the reinforced kitchen island. It wouldn’t stop bullets forever, but it would buy him seconds. And in a firefight, seconds were the difference between living and bleeding out on the floor.

"Don’t move unless I tell you to," I ordered.

Oliver’s eyes locked onto mine. "Leo—"

The door exploded inward.

Gunfire erupted instantly.

Charles took the first shot, dropping the lead man before he could fully cross the threshold. I fired twice—one round to the chest, one to the head. Two bodies hit the ground.

But more poured in.

The room became a warzone. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark like strobe lights. Smoke and gunpowder burned my throat. Adrenaline drowned out everything but the pounding of my own pulse.

A bullet grazed my shoulder. I barely felt it.

"Leo!" Oliver’s voice cut through the chaos.

I turned just in time to see a masked figure lunging for him from the side.

I fired.

The man crumpled mid-step, a dark hole between his eyes.

Oliver stared at the body, then at me. His breath came in short, sharp bursts.

No time to process. No time to think.

Another attacker rushed Charles.

I pivoted, aimed—

Click.

Empty.

Charles went down under the man’s weight, his weapon skidding across the floor.

I moved.

The attacker raised his gun—

A single shot rang out.

The man jerked, then collapsed.

I turned.

Oliver stood frozen, his arms outstretched, the pistol smoking in his hands.

He’d fired.

He’d hit.

Our eyes met. His were wide, shocked.

I didn’t have time to praise him.

A new sound cut through the gunfire—boots on the fire escape.

They were coming from the windows.

"Charles!" I barked.

He was already moving, grabbing his fallen weapon and rolling to cover the nearest window just as the glass shattered.

We were surrounded.

And we were running out of ammo.

The Truth Comes Out

Oliver pressed against my back, his breathing ragged but steady. "Tell me you have a plan."

I ejected my spent magazine. "Working on it."

Charles fired twice toward the window, then ducked as return shots peppered the wall above him. "We can’t hold them off forever."

I knew that. But extraction was still minutes out. And we had seconds.

Oliver suddenly stiffened. "Wait—the fire escape. They’re all coming from the east side."

I frowned. "So?"

"So the west side’s clear."

Charles and I exchanged a glance.

He was right.

Why would trained mercenaries leave an entire flank open?

Unless—

It’s a trap.

But we didn’t have a choice.

"Oliver," I said, voice low. "You see that hallway? The door at the end leads to the back stairs. You run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back."

His grip on the gun tightened. "I’m not leaving you."

"That’s not a request."

"And this isn’t a negotiation." His eyes burned into mine. "I’m not dying because you have a hero complex."

A grenade rolled into the room.

I didn’t think. I grabbed Oliver and threw us both behind the kitchen island.

The explosion shattered the world.

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