Chapter 10
***A little while earlier***
A gust of wind blew into her face, throwing back the thick mane of dark hair and letting it flap behind her as she ran stumbling through the forest. She made her way blindly, not really caring where she was going, not really knowing. All she knew was that she needed to get out of that house, to get away�
Something changed around her, and she stopped abruptly, realizing all of a sudden that she was no longer surrounded by trees. She blinked uncomprehending, like one who�d just woken from a deep sleep, the awareness of her surroundings slowly creeping up on her.
She was in a clearing. The lake lay before her in all its morning splendor. And her feet were � wet?
She looked down, incredulous to find herself ankle-deep in the blue water. Her breaths coming in short heavy bursts, which were hardly a result of her running, she staggered back instinctively, struggling to maintain the last remaining vestiges of control on her raging emotions. But her desperate efforts were in vain, as the already battered dam inside her broke under the overwhelming pressure, and the flood of emotions made her head spin. And she felt herself falling down and forward on her hands and knees into the cool blue water, hot tears running down her face.
Until Christian came back into her life so unexpectedly, she never let herself think about that fateful day twenty-some years ago. She closed her heart off that day, deciding that it was the only way she could survive; deciding that it was for the best.
But was it? What if she was wrong? What if there was still a chance for the two of them back then? What if they could have made it, had she only trusted Christian to help her that day? Instead, she had destroyed them without even giving them a chance; destroyed their love, their future.
Her fingers digging painfully into the rough uneven soil under the water, she wept uncontrollably, lamenting the now unattainable world of could-have-been that she had single-handedly destroyed in conception, as she repeated one word of self-reproach over and over: "Idiote! Idiote! Idiote!"
Her tears finally spent, she sat back on her knees, staring unseeing at the blue expanse before her. "What now?" she queried silently. What was she to do now? Provided they get of this alive, what was going to happen to them? Would they go their separate ways never to cross each other's paths again? She certainly wouldn't blame him if that was what he wanted to do. After all, the pain she's caused him -
"Wait," she interrupted herself, sharply raising her head. "What are you doing? You're giving up. AGAIN. Making the decision for both of you. Yes, he has a right to be angry with you, to not want to have anything to do with you� But he also has the right to know how you feel about him, how you truly feel. He has the right to know that you're willing to fight for him."
She stood up abruptly, a look of stubborn determination descending upon her features. �Damn it, I will fight!� she announced emphatically out loud, as if challenging her silent audience that was the lake and the trees. �Even if I end up losing him anyway � at least I�ll know I did everything I could to keep him.�
And then, as if in response to her forceful proclamation, a distant echo of gunshots carried across the wooded area, shattering the peacefulness of the morning, and Xandrie felt her blood freeze in fear as she turned to the direction from which the shots came, the direction of the house.
Mentally cursing herself for leaving Christian with only an old man and a hunting rifle for protection, she raced back toward the house, trying to push back the awful images that her imagination was already drawing for her. If something happened to him�.
She never ran so fast in her life, and yet it didn�t seem fast enough.
She was finally there, in front of the house, what seemed like hours (but in reality was only minutes) later. Everything seemed quiet, deadly quiet. She reached for the door cautiously with her left hand, as her right slipped behind her belt where her gun was still safely tucked away, and slowly stepped inside. Her gun now at ready, Xandrie moved noiselessly through the semi-dark hallway, glancing nervously to all sides. Her heart pounded so violently in her chest, that its sound (it seemed to her) could be heard miles away.
The bedroom came into her view. The soft light of the morning sun broke through the shattered window, reflecting in the milliards of pieces of glass scattered on the floor, giving the room an odd ominous tint, as it mixed in with the crimson of the blood.
She barely made it across the threshold, nearly tripping over a body that lay sprawled across it. It was Gerard. One of Debray�s henchmen. She stumbled, trying to avoid the pool of blood that was forming around the man�s head, as her gaze shifted across the room. Directly across from Gerard, in his former line of vision, or line of shot, was Robert Dubois. The old man sat slumped against the wall, his head hanging down on his chest. One could almost imagine that he was resting, caught in a moment of peaceful dream, if it weren�t for the dreadful crimson spot that stained the front of his shirt, shattering any illusions or semblance of life.
Xandrie moved toward him on shaking legs, as she tried in vain to block out the pungent smell of blood that hung in the air. She was afraid to take her eyes off of him, afraid to look anywhere else, afraid of what she was going to find there.
The bed that was obstructing her view of the rest of the room finally moved out of her field of vision, drawing her willing or not into the rest of the picture.
The gun fell out of her suddenly limp hand, dropping to the floor with a loud thump, and she swayed dangerously on her feet, her hand flying to her mouth as if to contain the barely audible scream of his name that escaped her lips. �Christian.�