Dahlia

There's a moment. There's a moment when we're together. Akira looks at me and I meet his eye.

Ethan stands, his face gone pallid all the color draining from him. My brows knit as an anxious ball begins to grow in the pit of my stomach.

What the hell does that face mean?

Ethan pushes me into the bedroom. I don't protest. I know danger. It has a distinct feeling, changes the air around you. Makes it heavy, heady, chokes you.

Danger lingers in your nose and burns, sticks in your lungs and won't pass.

Ethan pulls a gun I didn't even know he had from his back pocket, cocking it.

"Don't come out," he instructs me. "Don't make a sound."

I nod hurriedly, as shots begin to pop off. I run into the closet. I have nothing to protect myself. All I have is this phone.

But Ethan has a gun. If I call the cops...he'll probably be arrested too. My fingers shake a bit as I dial 911. Wait...this is Japan. It's not the same. I hurriedly Google what 911 is. Why is three numbers?

And why can't I figure out which one to call when I may or may not be getting shot in the face?!

This is Akira. I need to calm down. I inhale with a shudder trying to clear my mind. I scoot back under a few of my longer dresses to hide me from view.

This is Akira. He must have something here. Calm as a river. Always prepared. I carefully start feeling around.

After a moment, My fingers finally find something cool and hard. Metal. Shit. I had hoped for a gun, but by the shape of it it's a sword. I pull it out as quietly as I can.

Putting it in my lap. The ball of anxiety currently housed in my stomach turns, acid creeping up my throat.

I close my eyes trying to listen in. The shooting hasn't stopped but—

Clack.

Footsteps. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. I brace myself. Steel myself, try to coach myself through what I'm going to have to do. 911 can't save me now.

I'm going to have to protect myself. When the closet door opens I need to quickly strike with the sword into the softest part of them.

The belly probably.

The steps are frowning closer. It's going to feel sticky and gross, penetrating through flesh, muscles and organs, but I need to do it. I might get blood on me.

I'm going to have to kill someone.

I swallow the acid trying to rise, as the steps get closer. The door opens with a. Creak. They're in the room.

It's time. No way out.

Please just leave.

I beg in my mind for them to just turn around. But the steps stray around the room like they're looking for something.

Like they're looking for me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as a shiver digs it's way under my skin and zings down my spine.

They're in front of the closet now. I aim and as the closet door opens I lurch forward, feeling flesh as I do.

It's dark. Shit. Did I get him?

I hear a droplet fall to the ground metallic filling my nostrils.

The moon is bright. I left the curtains open.

"It's okay. It's me," Akira says softly, his hand closed around the blade of my sword.

I almost weep in relief, but hurried footsteps behind him dry my tears. He lets go of my blade, quickly drawing his, and with a deft strike, he puts it back.

Then he offers me his hand with a small smile. "Let's get you out of here, flower."

He pulls me out of the closet. He's still in his suit from this morning, gracefully stepping over the headless man.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, putting his arm around my waist. "You don't need to see this."

He ushers me downstairs, and somehow, despite the bullets flying, he gets me down the stairs out a door and to a group of cars.

I inhale the cool night air.

"Akira what is going on?" I demand, my hands shaking. His dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail. He sighs. There's a group of black SUVS lined up against the sidewalk.

He pulls his suit jacket off, putting it around my shoulders. He raised my chin, looking at me as if this were another Tuesday.

"You're going on a nice vacation, Angel. Get in the car."

I do, if not out of pure shock. He rose up his dress shirt sleeves to his elbow.

"I have some cleaning to do before I leave," he informs me. "I'll be along shortly."

"Akira wait," I reach out to him desperately. He stops, kissing my head.

"It's alright," he swears. "Do you see all of these cars? They are filled with men and women who can and will die for you. You're safe. Go on. I should be there by tomorrow."

I swallow and nod.

There's a moment. Between Akira and I. Not just now. But there's a moment when I know that I...

I duck into the SUV. Akira watches until we turn the corner. And then he's out of my sight.

I had wondered if he was a criminal.

He is. Most definitely.