Chapter 332 - Three Hundred And Thirty One

Chapter 332: Chapter Three Hundred And Thirty One

The lead ball flew through the air.

Time seemed to move slowly. Damon pushed his legs to their highest limits. He did not care about his own safety. He only saw the long metal pipe aimed at Camilla’s chest. He threw his body forward with everything he had.

"Camilla!" Damon shouted loudly, his voice raw with fear.

His hands reached her just in time. He pushed her violently. He shoved her to the side with brutal force.

Camilla felt his hands hit her waist. The push was sudden and hard. She flew through the air, away from gun point .

At that exact second, a loud, sickening sound echoed on the dirt road.

Thwack.

It was the terrible sound of metal breaking through flesh and bone. Damon’s eyes widened. The air left his lungs in a sudden, sharp gasp. He felt the terrible, burning impact of the lead ball hitting his back. The immense force of the shot pushed him forward, but he managed to stay on his feet for one brief moment.

Camilla hit the ground hard. She rolled in the dry dust. Her dress tangled around her legs. As she fell, the side of her head hit a sharp rock hidden in the dirt.

Smack.

A sharp pain exploded in her skull. Her vision flashed white, and then black. Her ears rang with a loud, high-pitched noise.

But the sharp pain did something very important. It broke the spell. The paralyzing fear, the tonic immobility that had frozen her muscles, vanished instantly. Her brain snapped back to reality. She regained full control over her body.

She opened her eyes. The loud ringing in her ears slowly faded away.

She looked up. Through the dust and the white smoke of the musket, she saw him.

Damon stood in the middle of the road. His back was turned to the tall oak tree. A dark, wet stain was quickly spreading across the dark blue fabric of his military coat. The blood looked black in the setting sun.

He swayed slightly. His knees buckled under his weight.

"Damon," Camilla whispered. Her voice was weak and shaky.

He fell to his knees. The impact sent up a small cloud of brown dust. He stayed there for a second, his head bowed low. Then, his body fell forward. He collapsed onto the dirt floor. He did not move.

Camilla’s heart stopped beating. A cold wave of terror washed over her body.

"Damon!" she called out louder, panic rising in her chest.

He did not answer.

"DAMON!!!!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice tore roughly through her dry throat. It was a sound of panic and heartbreak.

She scrambled up from the dirt. She ignored the throbbing pain in her head. She ignored the restrictive dress pulling her down. She rushed to his side as fast as she possibly could.

She dropped heavily to her knees beside his fallen body. She reached out her shaking hands. She grabbed his shoulders and gently turned him over.

His face was very pale. His eyes were half-closed. He was struggling to breathe. Each breath came with a wet, ragged sound.

Camilla pulled his head onto her lap. She rested his neck gently against her legs. Her hands were covered in the dust from his coat and the sticky, warm feeling of his fresh blood.

She looked down at him. A warm drop of liquid fell from her face and landed on his cheek. She reached her hand up and touched her forehead. Blood was trickling down from the small gash on her head where she hit the sharp rock. The red drops fell from her skin and mixed with the dirt on his face.

"I’m sorry," Camilla cried softly. Tears streamed from her eyes, washing clean paths through the dust on her cheeks. "I’m sorry. This is all my fault."

She felt a huge crushing guilt. She was the Black Widow. She was trained to survive anything. She should have dodged the bullet. She should have moved faster. But she froze, and because she froze, the man who loved her took a bullet for her.

Damon looked up at her crying face. He saw the blood on her forehead. He saw her tears.

He forced his dry, pale lips to move. He let out a weak, strained laugh. The laugh quickly turned into a painful, quiet cough.

"As long as you’re not hurt," Damon whispered softly. His voice was weak, but his eyes showed pure relief. He did not care about his own pain. He was just happy she was alive.

Camilla sobbed. She held his face gently in her hands.

But the quiet, sad moment did not last.

Click. Clack.

The sharp, mechanical sound echoed clearly from the branches of the tall oak tree.

Camilla’s head snapped up. She looked through her tears toward the green leaves.

The masked assassin was still in the tree. He was not finished. He was pouring black gunpowder into the long metal barrel. He was pulling out another round lead ball. He was reloading the weapon to finish the job and kill them both.

Camilla’s tears stopped instantly.

"No," Camilla thought to herself, her eyes narrowing with focus. "You will not hurt him again."

She moved quickly but gently. She slid her legs out from under Damon’s head. She put her hands firmly under his armpits. Using all of her physical strength, she dragged his body a few feet backward. She put him in a sitting position, resting his back safely against the wheel of the carriage.

Damon groaned softly as she moved him, but he managed to stay awake.

Camilla stood up straight. She looked at the tree. The assassin was raising the musket, getting ready to aim the metal pipe at her again.

She looked down at her feet. Lying in the dirt, just a few inches away, was the dagger she had dropped earlier when Damon pushed her.

Camilla bent down quickly and grabbed the leather handle of the dagger. She gripped it, calculating the distance to the tree in a split second. She noted the wind direction. She aimed for the hands holding the weapon.

Before the assassin could point the metal pipe at her, Camilla moved.

She pulled her right arm back. She stepped forward and threw the dagger with terrifying speed.

The blade cut through the air like a silver flash of light.

Thwack.

The dagger hit its target perfectly. The blade sank very deep into the back of the assassin’s right hand.

"Argh!" the masked man screamed loudly from the high branches.

The sudden, sharp pain forced his fingers to open wide. He lost his grip.

The musket slipped from his hands. It fell through the green leaves and hit the dirt road below with a loud clatter. The weapon lay uselessly in the dust.

Camilla did not wait to see what the bleeding man would do next. She needed that weapon. She gave it her all.

She ran.