Under His Protection: A Dark Mafia Romance

21. The Train

The train wheelspound a relentless rhythm against the tracks, a hypnotic beat that does little to soothe me.

I’m pressed against Alexander in the cramped train bathroom, our bodies a tangle of limbs and bandages. The stand smells like stale urine mingling with the faint smell of something almost— rotten.

I stand, my legs stiff from the cramped space, and press my face against the grimy window above the toilet. The city lights are a fading constellation of twinkling stars, slowly giving way to the vast, inky blackness of the countryside. The darkness is absolute, broken only by the occasional distant farmhouse.

We’re leaving it all behind. The thought brings a strange sense of peace. Port Haven, with its glittering facade and hidden underbelly of corruption and violence, is fading. It holds the ghosts of my past, the shattered remnants of my dreams, and Michelle’s cold, lifeless shell. But it no longer holds Alexander.

He is here with me. And that is all that matters.

He is my home now.

My gaze drifts down to Alexander, his face pale in the bathroom light. His dark hair is tousled, and a shadow of stubble darkens his jaw.

His chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. The bandage reminds me of the bullet that pierced his flesh, his pain.

But even in his weakened state, he exudes a raw, undeniable strength, a magnetism that draws me in, that makes my heart ache with a fierce, possessive love.

I love him. With a dark, burning flame, a fire so intense it threatens to burst me open, to eat me alive. He is everything I have ever wanted and never dared to dream of. Reckless and utterly irresistible.

His eyes flutter open, their blue depths clouded with pain but ignited with a flicker of something deeper, something that mirrors the intensity of my feelings. Our gazes lock, and I see the reflection of my love in his eyes, a shared fire that burns away the fear, the doubt, the shadows of our past.

I lean in, my lips brushing against his, a gentle touch. He groans a low rumble of pleasure and pain and pulls me closer, his hand tangling in my hair, his touch possessive, demanding. I melt into his kiss, the world around us dissolving, the train’s rhythmic clatter fading into a distant hum.

His lips are warm, and his tongue is a teasing exploration. He runs a finger from my knee up my inner thigh, his fingertips reaching my apex.

“You think you’re ready for that?” I say.

“I’m always ready for you, Ava.”

I stroke his hair, the dark strands soft against my fingertips.

“You’re everything, my Ava,” he whispers against my lips, his voice rough. “All I ever wanted. I’ll never let you go. I’ll never leave you. Mark my words.”

“I know,” I whisper back. I believe him with every fiber of my being.

We break apart, our breaths mingling in the close confines of the bathroom. The train speeds on, the landscape outside the window shifting. The wind, whistling past the window, carries the scent of pine needles and damp earth.

“Now what?” he asks, his gaze searching mine.

I smile genuinely, the first one I”ve felt in days. It feels like a weight lifting off my shoulders, a small victory in this crazy, messed-up world. ”Now? We figure it out. Together.”

He nods, his hand tightening around mine. We”re adrift, lost in the vast, unknown ocean of our new reality. But we”re in it together. And right now, that”s all that matters.

I see a flicker of movement in the window above us as we hold still at the train station. Standing on my tippy toes, I see a news report playing on the TV in the adjacent train car. The sound is muffled by the bathroom walls, but I can make out the subtitles.

”Increased border security along the Baltic Sea is creating tension between Russia and its neighboring countries—” I read out loud to Alexander.

I glance at him, his eyes filled with a troubled expression.

”You think they”re really doing something about it? Are they trying to stop the smuggling? The trafficking?” I ask. ”Or is it just for show?”

He adjusts the bandage on his hip, wincing slightly. ”I don”t know,” he says, his voice low. ”But it doesn’t matter. If Cole is alive, he will find a way.”