Cecilia's eyes widened at the scene playing out in front of her. Everything around her seemed to slow down and dull as adrenaline pulsed throughout her veins. The shooter's face was covered, as was the face of the woman he was about to murder. Cecilia barely heard the screams around her, pulling away from the hand that was holding her back. She had no idea how she managed to get in front of the gunman in time.
"Cecilia!" Arthur yelled. This couldn't be happening, no, it wasn't real... Matthew and Alfred were the first to start moving, the latter tackling the masked man. Sirens blared, snapping the Englishman out of his daze. His feet pounded the pavement, and his knees grazed the ground next to the bleeding Frenchwoman. How could she still manage to smile?
A strange sensation pooled in Cecilia's abdomen. Matthew and Arthur spoke to her frantically in an odd mixture of French and English. The blonde woman grinned at the looks on their faces, almost laughing at how the edges started to blur... Why did they look so distraught? She was fine... The bullet missed, right? It must've... But then, why couldn't she move? That's what didn't make sense. A warm pair of hands cupped her face, and an urgent slew of words washed over her. The temperature around her seemed to flash from burning hot to ice cold, and the last thing she focused on was a hysterical pair of green eyes.
To be continued.
