Red Dots
HARDIN’S POV
I leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ariana’s cheek.
It was soft. Slow. Measured. The kind of kiss that lingered, like I was branding her with the promise that I’d be back.
She smiled as I pulled away, but there was something beneath it—something I couldn’t quite name. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe dread. Maybe just the aftertaste of the confession she’d finally spilled this morning.
I brushed her hair gently off her shoulder and whispered, “I’ll pick you up after work.”
She nodded and reached for the door handle, but I beat her to it, already reaching for mine so I could come around and open it for her—because that’s just what you do when someone means everything to you.
But she stopped me with a light touch to my chest. Her lips curved into something far more dangerous now. Mischief. Seduction.
“You’ll be late if you do that,” she said, and then—fuck—her hand came up and brushed against my mouth, fingers tracing the curve of my lower lip like a secret only she knew.
My breath caught.
“Ariana…”
“Don’t.” Her voice dropped, sultry and low. Her hand didn’t stop at my mouth—it moved south. Sliding, teasing, and then resting between my legs with the lightest, most maddening touch imaginable.
She smirked as I tensed beneath her palm.
“Don’t miss me too much,” she whispered.
And then she was gone—door opening, heels clicking against the pavement as she stepped out of the car like she hadn’t just threatened my entire self-control with a single damn touch.
I groaned, leaning back against the headrest with a curse.
That woman was going to kill me.
I laughed under my breath and shook my head, finally shifting the car into drive as I watched her walk away toward the glass entrance of her building.
And then—
Something caught my eye.
A flicker.
A shimmer.
A wrongness.
It was in the rearview mirror—right there, right behind her.
Red dots.
On the back of her head.
For a second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
No.
No. No. No.
It couldn’t be.
But then the dots danced—three of them—perfectly still, perfectly targeted.
Laser sights.
My heart slammed into my ribs so hard I thought it might crack straight through my chest.
“Ariana!” I shouted, throwing the car into park and lunging out the door.
She turned at the sound of my voice, frowning. Confused.
“What are you—?”
“GET DOWN!” I roared, sprinting toward her. “ARIANA, GET DOWN!”
She didn’t move fast enough.
I pointed wildly, gesturing toward the back of her head, the lasers that hadn’t disappeared.
I could see it now—perched across the street, high up, probably on one of the rooftops or windows. A sniper. A fucking sniper.
Time slowed to a crawl.
I reached her.
Wrapped my arms around her.
And tackled her to the ground just as the shot rang out.
The bullet hit the glass entrance instead, shattering it like an explosion. Screams erupted around us. Security guards shouted, drawing weapons, scrambling to triangulate the shot.
I didn’t wait.
I pulled Ariana to her feet and dragged her into the building, shielding her with my body as we ran through the lobby. My adrenaline was a wildfire—I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, not until I got her somewhere safe.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, pressing the elevator button with trembling fingers. “Jesus—fuck, Ari, are you okay?”
She was in shock. Her eyes were wide, breath shallow, her voice stuck in her throat.
“I—I think so.”
I scanned her from head to toe. No blood. No obvious injuries. But her hands were shaking, and her skin was ice.
The elevator dinged, and I shoved her in, pressing the security override button to take us straight to the top floor.
The moment the doors closed, I pulled her into my arms.
She didn’t resist.
Her fingers gripped my shirt, bunching it into her fists like it was the only thing anchoring her.
My heart still hadn’t slowed.
I could still feel the echo of that gunshot vibrating in my bones.
“I had you in my sights, and I still almost didn’t make it in time,” I whispered. “God, Ariana…”
She didn’t cry.
She didn’t scream.
She just… stood there, holding me like she didn’t trust the world anymore.
The elevator opened with a ding, and I pulled her into her office, shutting the door behind us.
I didn’t let go.
I couldn’t.
Because I’d come this close to losing her.
I’d never been that afraid in my entire life.
But this?
This nearly destroyed me.
Her phone buzzed.
She stiffened.
It buzzed again.
I reluctantly let her go, watching as she pulled it from her bag with trembling hands.
Her face changed the second she saw the screen.
All the fear vanished.
All the softness melted away.
Her jaw locked.
Her eyes turned to ice.
She turned the screen toward me.
A message.
From an unknown number.
‘I just wanted to say hello…’ and then there was a black rose emoji
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
“It’s him,” she said coldly. “My stepbrother.”
The air in the room shifted.
The temperature dropped.
And I knew—knew with certainty—that this wasn’t just a threat.
This was war.
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