Love Unspoken

Two seconds later, Walter's face twisted. He threw an elbow into Alexander's gut with one hand while popping off a shot with the other. Alexander ducked, and the bullet just nicked his cheek, slamming into the wall behind him.

Even with a silencer, the gunshot was still pretty loud in the dead-quiet room.

Walter missed the first shot and was about to fire again, but Alexander was quicker, slashing at him with a knife.

Up close, the gun was useless. Walter couldn't get off another shot in time, so he had to sidestep to dodge the blade.

Ditching the gun, Walter whipped out a knife from who-knows-where and went toe-to-toe with Alexander.

The room wasn't soundproof, and their brawl had the neighbor banging on the wall.

The first bang came when they kicked over a chair, and the second when they smashed a wooden table, making an even bigger racket.

The neighbor got angry and yelled, "What the hell are you doing in there? Some of us are trying to sleep!"

But it didn't matter.

The front desk guy downstairs woke up from the noise and soon was knocking on their door.

Walter landed a punch to Alexander's gut, making him stumble back until he hit the wall.

Alexander leaned against the wall, his face going pale. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead, and his breathing got all ragged.

Seeing this, Walter laughed. "Giving up already? Need an oxygen tank or something?"

He could tell Alexander was struggling to breathe. So he just stood there, arms crossed, watching Alexander gasp for air.

The person outside waited for a bit, and after hearing nothing, walked away.

Hearing the footsteps fade, Walter laughed even harder. "Not calling for help? They're leaving."

Alexander's body swayed, barely standing by leaning against the wall, veins popping on the back of his hand.

In a moment, he couldn't take it anymore, and the knife in his hand clattered to the ground.

Walter laughed, slowly walking toward Alexander. "Beg me. Maybe I'll get you an oxygen tank."

Alexander stared him down, sweat dripping from his temples.

He gave Walter a mocking grin.

Walter was caught off guard for a second, and in that second, Alexander kneed him.

Walter tried to dodge, but as he did, a table lamp crashed onto his head, leaving him dazed.

Clutching his head in pain, Walter groaned, feeling dizzy and out of it.

By the time he snapped out of it, Alexander had already opened the window and jumped out.

Luckily, there was grass below, but the fall still hurt. The hidden assassins saw him fall and rushed out of the shadows. Ignoring the pain, Alexander struggled to his feet, ran into the hotel, closed the door, and slipped out through a side hallway. He hopped on a motorcycle, fired it up, and sped off across the grassland.

By the time the assassins caught up, he was long gone.

Remembering Walter's words, they couldn't let Alexander get away and quickly found a vehicle to chase him.

Alexander was now running on pure instinct. He couldn't see straight, his vision blurred, and he barely felt like he was driving. The motorcycle tore across the grassland, heading who-knows-where.

A few minutes later, Alexander hit his limit and tumbled over a steep slope. In an instant, both he and the motorcycle went flying.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.