His After The Heartbreak (BL)-Chapter 167: Ambushed

"We were set up!" he yelled, his voice filled with rage and disbelief. "Those bastards! They all worked together! Every single one of them! They want to get rid of me and take my money?! After everything I fucking did for them?!"

He punched the steering wheel again, hard enough that I heard something crack.

I flinched at the sound.

Declan kept ranting, the car shaking slightly as he gripped the wheel like he wanted to break it in half.

"How foolish can they be?!" he spat. "They think they can just touch the tail of a lion and walk away alive?! They think they can betray me and live to tell the story?!"

Another gunshot hit the car.

This one came so close, I actually saw it — a flash of metal slicing through the air, right past my face.

For a second, time slowed.

I could hear the bullet whistle past.

I could feel the wind it carried.

I could almost see death, reaching for me with cold hands.

The next second, the windshield shattered with a deafening crash. Tiny shards of glass sprayed everywhere, some hitting my arms and legs. I screamed without even realizing it, a raw, panicked sound that ripped from my throat.

I couldn't hold back anymore — I broke down crying right there, shaking uncontrollably. My breathing was sharp and shallow, like I couldn't get enough air into my lungs.

I was so scared.

I was so, so scared.

Declan kept shouting, still full of fire and anger.

"Those bastards!" he roared again, banging his hand against the steering wheel. "I fed them! I clothed them! I fucking protected them! And this is how they repay me?!"

I didn't care about his anger.

I didn't care about his betrayal.

I just wanted to get out of here alive.

I lifted my head a little, just enough to glare at him through my tears.

"If only you could do more driving and less talking," I snapped, my voice shaking as much as my body. "You're going to get us killed, Declan!"

I didn't even realize I was shouting until the words were out. I didn't care.

I was terrified and furious and done keeping quiet.

Declan glanced at me like he wanted to bark back, but another gunshot pinged off the car, forcing him to focus.

Tears streamed down my face as I shouted at him again.

"Even your guards betrayed you!" I yelled, my chest heaving. "I'm trying to imagine what the hell you did to them to make them all plan together to betray you!"

Declan growled low in his throat, gripping the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white.

"Perhaps," he said with a dangerous edge to his voice, "I should stop the car and drop you right here."

He gave me a sharp, sideways glance, full of anger.

"So you could go join the guards and plan even better ways to betray me."

His voice was cold and bitter.

"At least," he added roughly, "there would be silence—and I could finally concentrate."

"Don't blame me, Declan," I snapped, my voice shaking even though I tried to sound brave. "You're the only one talking here. Yelling like it's going to solve anything."

He didn't even answer me. He just kept driving like a madman, his hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes darting from mirror to mirror.

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I continued complaining, my words falling out faster than my mind could catch them. "You're just talking and talking! We should be finding a way out of this mess instead of shouting at each other!"

Before I could say anything else, he suddenly turned the steering wheel hard—so hard that my head slammed against the side of the chair.

"Fuckkkk! My head! I can't feel my head!" I screamed, grabbing my forehead as pain exploded in my skull.

Declan didn't even flinch. "You better be happy that all you're feeling is a little banging in your head. If you get shot, you wouldn't even be alive to feel a damn thing! So shut up and let me drive! Unless you want me to leave this wheel and let us crash and burn together!" he barked at me, voice sharp like knives.

My heart jumped into my throat. I could barely breathe. Fear wrapped around me like a rope, squeezing tighter.

What the fuck was wrong with this man?

Did I ever tell him that I was tired of living? Did I ever say I wanted to die today?

Hell no!

He didn't give me this life, so who the fuck gave him permission to try and end it?

If he's so desperate to die, then let him kill himself. Alone.

"Listen, Declan," I fired at him, my voice shaking but loud. "If you want to die, that's your business. But don't drag me into your death plan! Stick to dying by yourself, please!"

He said nothing. Just kept driving like a demon possessed.

I barely had a second to catch my breath when he suddenly shouted again.

"Get down! Now!"

I didn't think.

I just dropped my head instantly, ducking low against the seat without even knowing why.

And then—PHEW!

A bullet zipped past my head.

I screamed at the very top of my lungs, grabbing the seat like my life depended on it.

"Fuuuuuuck!" I yelled, my voice raw with terror.

What in the actual fuckery was happening?!

This was the second time a bullet nearly kissed my skull.

If there was a third time, I probably wouldn't survive it.

My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold myself up.

"You need to keep going! Keep going, Declan! Please!" I shouted, my voice cracking.

Because at this point, fighting back wasn't an option.

I mean—not for me, anyway.

"I mean you need to keep going," I added quickly, my voice almost hysterical. "Because I have absolutely nothing to fight with! You're the one with all the crazy ideas!"

He glanced at me like I'd grown two heads.

"And who told you I don't have guns to fight back?" he said, almost mocking.

I rolled my eyes hard even though my heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst out of my chest.

"Declan, please!" I shouted. "Use the time you're wasting thinking about fighting back to drive us the hell out of here!"

He didn't reply.

Instead, to my horror, he yanked one hand off the steering wheel and reached down between his seat and the console.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I shrieked, panic choking my voice.

He lifted the front passenger seat slightly and pulled something out—a heavy black gun gleaming under the little light.

It looked deadly. Dangerous.

I recognized it immediately even though I wasn't an expert.

It was a Glock 19, and it looked fully loaded.

"Blood for blood," he muttered under his breath, loading the gun with swift, angry hands.

"What the fuck, Declan?!" I gasped.

"Who's going to drive the car while you're busy playing Rambo?! And let's not forget that you're holding a damn powerful gun like you're in a movie!"

He didn't even answer me.

He just jammed a few more bullets into the gun, pulled the window slightly down, and started shooting.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The sound was so loud I had to squeeze my eyes shut and press my palms over my ears.

My whole body was shaking, rattling with each deafening bang.

I prayed. I cursed. I even begged God in my head to please, please, please not let this be how I die.

The gunshots stopped suddenly.

My heart was still hammering against my ribs, so I opened one eye cautiously.

"Are we... are we somewhere safe now?" I stuttered, voice barely a whisper.

I didn't even finish my sentence before—

BANG!

A sharp pain exploded in my side as something heavy slammed into me.

At first, I couldn't understand it.

Then I looked down.

Blood.

Dark. Wet. Warm.

It was spreading fast across my shirt. My hands trembled as I touched my stomach.

I was bleeding.

I was shot.

No. No. No.

This couldn't be happening.

The world around me blurred.

The sounds faded.

My head spun.

I blinked down at my blood-soaked hands, trying to understand.

Trying to breathe