Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

D ean ran as if his life and everything he'd worked hard for was on the line. Every muscle in his body burned, his entire body ached, but he pushed himself harder. He was fueled by a single, terrifying thought: the gunman was heading towards the pool house—towards Andrea.

The sight of the man, who was dressed in all black, disappearing through the trees made Dean's blood run cold. He could see flashes of movement between the tree trunks, just enough to keep him locked onto his target.

His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as he cut through the dense underbrush. Thorns and branches tore at his skin, but he didn't care about the scrapes, the pain. Nothing mattered but stopping the shooter.

The campgrounds, normally a place of peace and joy, had in the past few moments turned into a chaotic nightmare.

Less than ten minutes before, he had just returned from dropping off food by the poolside and was planning to pick up his next order. Everything had seemed so normal—until it wasn't.

He had been at the loading dock doors and had been heading inside to get his food order when he heard shouts followed by gunshots. The memory of it made him run even faster now, fear and anger pushing him beyond his limits.

He'd seen the aftermath just inside the doors seconds after those first shots. Someone was lying on the ground. At first, he'd been unsure, his brain refusing to register it.

Then someone pushed past him as a gun was shoved in his face. If Kyle hadn't thrown himself at the man holding the gun, the shot wouldn't have missed.

For the next few seconds, he and Kyle had wrestled with the man. When the next shot sounded, Dean watched in horror as Kyle crumpled to the ground.

This time Dean didn't let the gunman lift the riffle towards him. Instead, he charged into the man, knocking him backwards straight out the back door.

The guy disappeared as the door swung shut for a second. When it flew open again, Dean watched in horror as the dark figure disappeared down the pathway heading towards the pool house.

"Shit," he said as other employees arrived and started helping Kyle and Corey. "I'm taking off after him," he called out.

"Here." Someone shoved a walkie-talkie into his hands.

He grabbed it and took off after the shooter.

He'd be dead if it wasn't for Kyle.

Two more shots rang out and he felt and heard them zip past his head.

The shots had been deafening, but fear hadn't paralyzed him. Instead, it had fueled his pursuit, driving him to chase the shooter down, no matter the cost.

"I'm heading towards the south side of the camp. I think I've got eyes on him. He's dressed in all black and has a backpack. He bolted into the trees." He practically yelled in his walkie-talkie, now breathless as he ran.

"Copy that. Be careful. We've got local authorities en route," Brett's voice crackled back. "I'm heading your way. Stay put."

Stay put? Dean didn't have time to think about backup. He couldn't stay put. The shooter was heading towards Andrea, and every second counted. His eyes locked onto the figure moving swiftly through the trees, the glint of metal in the boy's hands confirming his fears. The shooter was just a kid. He'd seen his eyes behind the mask. He knew them very well. It was Jake, the waiter. The kid was no older than nineteen. Why? his mind screamed as he chased after him.

Then it dawned on him. Shit. He'd fired Jake a couple of days before. Double shit. This was his payback.

The kid moved with a frantic desperation that made him even more dangerous. He was angry, hell-bent on getting his revenge no matter who got in his way.

Dean pushed through the thick underbrush, the sharp branches scratching at his arms and face as he pursued the boy. The kid was fast, driven by adrenaline and anger. Dean was fueled by fear and love.

Every few seconds, Dean would relay his location over the walkie-talkie, hoping someone would reach them in time. But in the back of his mind, he knew that it was up to him. If he got the chance, he knew that he wouldn't wait. He'd do everything he could to take Jake down.

Jake's backpack bounced against him as he ran, no doubt heavy with a stockpile of ammunition. Dean's heart sank at the thought of how much more damage the kid could do if he wasn't stopped.

"Jake!" Dean shouted, his voice cutting through the air. It was the only thing he could think of to stall the kid. To keep him from reaching the pool house and its glass doors. There were probably more than a dozen guests hiding there if Andrea and Kara had followed protocol. "You don't have to do this, Jake," he called out.

The boy glanced back, his eyes wide with laughter.

"Fuck off, Dean, and die," Jake called back as he lifted his weapon and fired off several shots aimed at his head.

Dean threw himself behind a large oak tree as the bullets sprayed around him, the bark splintering under the impact and hitting his skin in several places.

When the shooting stopped, Dean risked a glance around the tree. He saw Jake bolt down the last pathway towards the pool house.

Dean picked up his pace, ducking under low branches and jumping over roots as he took the shortcut that would cut Jake off.

Dean's lungs burned as he neared a clearing by the pool house, the trees thinning out just enough to give him a better view. He saw Jake stumble slightly, the weight of the backpack finally slowing him down.

Thankfully, Dean's longer strides allowed him to close the gap. He came up on Jake a few seconds before he made it to the clearing.

Seizing the opportunity, Dean lunged at Jake, tackling him to the ground. They hit the dirt hard, the impact knocking the breath from both of them.

The gun clattered to the ground just out of the kid's reach. Dean scrambled to his feet, and got a hold of the weapon before Jake could, but the kid was quick. Instead of trying to grab the weapon, he grabbed Dean's arm, twisting it painfully as the two of them wrestled for control.

Dean managed to shove the boy back, but Jake was wiry and strong. He knew that he had been a wrestler in school, since he bragged about winning state all the time. Jake knew the right moves to keep Dean from getting a firm grip on him and the weapon.

At this point they were both driven by a deadly mix of adrenaline and desperation. Jake kicked out at Dean's legs, sending him stumbling backwards until his head hit the pavement. Dean gritted his teeth, fighting to keep the upper hand, but the boy was relentless.

They grappled and rolled until they were back in the dirt, fists flying at one another. Dean got a solid blow to Jake's chin, but somehow the boy managed to get a grip on Dean's throat, squeezing with surprising strength.

Dean's vision began to blur, the edges of his vision darkening as the boy tightened his grip. He clawed at the boy's hands, bucked as he struggled to breathe, but the kid was so strong. The pressure on his windpipe was unbearable, and just as the darkness began to close in, he heard a sound, a rush of movement through the trees, and then a sharp cracking sound.

The pressure around his neck suddenly released, and he gasped for air, taking large breaths until his vision returned to normal.

He looked up just in time to see Jake crumple to the dirt. Standing behind him, breathing heavily, was Andrea, her eyes wide with fear as she held a large chuck of firewood in her hands.

"Dean!" she cried, dropping the wood and rushing to his side.

He coughed, sucking in deep breaths of air as she knelt beside him, her hands shaking as she touched his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked quickly as her hands and eyes ran over him.

He nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "I'm…I'm okay," he rasped, his voice a little hoarse.

Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, her hands moving to his shoulders, then his face, as if she needed to reassure herself that he was really there.

"You scared the hell out of me," she whispered, her voice breaking.

He reached up, placing his hand over hers. "You saved my life," he said, his voice raw.

She shook her head, her tears spilling over. "I couldn't lose you," she said softly. "I just…I couldn't. Not before I told you…" Her eyes met his. "I love you, Dean Wallis."

Before he could respond, the sound of footsteps and voices reached them, and the shouts of people calling out to him echoed through the trees. Brett, Liam, and Dylan arrived in the clearing, and they quickly secured the gun and the kid. Brett removed Jake's mask and he could see the boy was still unconscious.

Brett rolled him over and placed zip ties over Jake's wrists before checking that he was still breathing. Dylan moved the gun and the backpack a few feet away from Jake.

A few seconds later, several others came running into the clearing, their eyes wide with shock at the scene before them.

"Is that Jake?" someone asked.

"Are you guys okay?" Brett asked him.

"We're okay," Dean replied, still holding onto Andrea. "She took him out," he added with a grin. "Knocked him out with that." He motioned to the log.

"Yeah, we got the tail end of the show," Brett said with a nod, his gaze flicking to the unconscious boy on the ground. "Holy shit, that was close."

At that moment, the sound of approaching sirens filled the air, and Brett pulled out his radio to relay their location to the authorities.

"You're bleeding everywhere," Andrea said. She helped him to his feet, her arms steadying him as he stood.

"Cuts and bruises. That's all," he assured her.

"Still, let's go get you checked out," she said quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

Dean nodded, but he didn't let go of her hand. He wasn't ready to let go, not after everything they had just been through.

As they made their way back to the main building, the weight of the events finally began to settle in. He felt Andrea shiver as they rode in a golf cart. He wrapped his arm around her and tried to stop his own body from shaking.

It had been close. Too close. He could have lost her. This time, for good.

When they reached the main building, they were informed that both Corey and Kyle were alive—for now. Both of them had been taken away in ambulances.

Dean looked at Andrea, her hand still firmly in his.

"Kyle saved my life," he said, lacing his fingers with hers. "When I can, I want to go see him at the hospital."

She nodded and lifted her hand up to touch his cheek. "Then I owe him"—she leaned over and brushed her lips against his—"everything."

They had faced the unthinkable together, and she'd admitted that she loved him. At that moment, he was flying high. Higher than he'd ever been. Even as the adrenaline from the ordeal faded, his mind and heart soared. He felt like he was floating on air, despite the exhaustion that tugged at his muscles.

Back at the main camp, the chaos from earlier had been replaced with a somber calm. The authorities were swarming the grounds, their voices and the crackle of radios filling the air. Dean was pushed into a chair, handed a glass of water, and bombarded with a million questions, seemingly all at once. His cuts were doused with some sort of goo that stung.

"How did you know the shooter was Jake?"

"How many shots were fired?"

"Were you injured?"

Dean answered each question as best he could, but his mind was elsewhere. Every time he glanced over at Andrea, he felt a surge of emotion that he couldn't quite put into words.

The fear of losing her had been more intense than anything he'd ever felt, and hearing her say those three words had ignited something in him that he couldn't ignore.

Eventually, the questioning subsided, and the paramedics finished checking him over. He was sore, cut, bruised, and his throat still ached from where Jake had choked him, but he was otherwise okay. Alive.

He declined the offer to go to the hospital—there were others who needed the attention more than he did. What he needed now was to be with Andrea.

It seemed to take forever. After the police left, everyone chipped in to finish the dinner meal. They had decided to cancel that evening's full dinner services and offer guests free dinners if they agreed to eat in their own cabins.

Every employee not affected by the night's events shuffled back and forth delivering meals to the guests.

Issac sat two plates down in front of him and Andrea. They had decided to stick around and wait to hear about their two coworkers, the only ones who had been shot.

Corey had already been released from the hospital with minor wounds and had chatted with everyone on a video call while he lay in bed at home.

Kyle, however, had to have surgery and would need to spend a few nights in the hospital to recover. He'd gotten two bullets, one to his upper hip area that had just grazed his thigh, and the other straight through his foot on the same leg.

"He got shot as we tried to wrestle the gun from Jake after he pointed it directly in my face," he told everyone.

Still, instead of guilt, Dean felt warmth spread through him, knowing he'd do the same for anyone else here. Kyle loved his job. Loved working with his friends. He was one of the good guys. A Wildflower, like the rest of them.

Hours later, the giant dining room had grown quiet, and Dean realized just how tired he was. He suggested that they head home.

Andrea drove his truck back to her house. The drive was quiet, both of them lost in their thoughts.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the trees as they pulled into her driveway. He'd believed it was far later than it was. They still had half an hour before full dark. Had this really all taken place in daylight?

It seemed like hours ago, days ago, years ago. God, he was tired.

Andrea shut off the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the house before she finally turned to him, her expression soft and a little uncertain.

"Are you okay?" she asked, breaking the silence.

He nodded, though his mind was far from settled. "I'm okay. Just…thinking."

"About what?" she asked gently.

He hesitated, then met her gaze. "How about a walk on the beach?"

She nodded and they climbed out of the truck. They skirted the house to walk down the pathway to the beach. After pulling off their shoes, they headed down the white sand.

They found a quiet spot and sat near the edge of the water.

"You look like a mummy," she joked as she touched his face again.

He smiled. "So. About what you said earlier." He took her hand in his and looked at their joined fingers. "About you loving me."

Andrea's breath hitched slightly, and she bit her lower lip, her eyes searching his when he glanced up at her.

"I know it wasn't the best timing, but?—"

He cut her off, pulling her close until their lips met in a tender kiss.

"It was the most perfect timing. I've been wanting to hear it for a while now," he admitted.

"I've felt it for a while. I just didn't know how to tell you. And then today, when I thought I might lose you…" Her voice hitched slightly.

His arm wrapped tighter around her as his heart filled. This, this was everything he would ever want. For the rest of his life, she was it. His entire world.

"You're not going to lose me. I'm not going anywhere," he promised into her hair.

She shifted and looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner. I was scared."

He shook his head quickly, his voice soft but firm.

"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you said it. I love you, Andrea. More than I've ever loved anyone."

The words hung in the air between them, powerful and true. He had never been so sure of anything in his life. The events of the day had only solidified what he already knew—that Andrea was the one for him.

She let out a shaky breath as a tear slipping down her cheek. "I love you…Dean."

He leaned in, cupping her face with his free hand, his thumb gently wiping away the tear.

"Whatever happens now," he whispered, his lips brushing against hers, "let's do it together." She nodded quickly before he kissed her.

The kiss was a promise, a reassurance, and a declaration all at once. When they finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, breathing her in, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his hands.

"Come on," Andrea said softly, her voice steady now. "Let's go home."