Chapter 18 Kateřina
My heart races.
My whole body feels numb from fear.
I know he’ll catch me. I know I have just one chance.
But I have to take it and run.
So, I do.
I run.
I’m heading towards the mansion’s entrance, and just like he promised, it’s open.
Unlocked, to be more precise. A vast, breathtaking garden stretches out before me, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the outside of this place. But there’s no time to take it in.
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus and break into a run through the sprawling garden. It feels like he isn’t following me, but I don’t dare look back.
I run and run, and yet it seems like I’m running forever. Tall trees line the garden, accompanied by rose bushes and neatly trimmed shrubs. This place is enormous, yet deserted. How’s that even possible?
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” a male voice barks at me. I hear the sharp click of a gun’s hammer cocking. I freeze. I know it’s been pointed at me. He must be close.
I don’t move. I’m too scared. Two of Cain’s men emerge from the bushes, as if they were waiting for me. I recognize them. They are the guys who brought the beauty stands to my room the other day.
“Lower your gun, dude,” the other man advises the first. “If Cain sees you, we’ll both be screwed.”
“She’s getting away, and we have orders!” The first man stalks toward me, pointing the gun at me.
“I-I won’t leave,” I barely mumble, my voice shaking.
“Shut up!” he spits, touching the muzzle to the back of my head. “Get back into the fucking house!”
“Dude, chill. Cain might be somewhere around.”
I feel lost. Doomed. Dead already. I have never been more scared in my entire life.
And then, there’s a gunshot.
For a split second, everything freezes—my body, the air, my thoughts. My legs give out, my breath hitches, and for a moment, I think it is over. I am dead.
Getting close to death is such a weird experience. The things you thought mattered suddenly seem small, and the things you ignored become huge. Time feels like it slows down, but at the same time, you’re aware of how fast it’s slipping away.
The panic creeps in. Quick, desperate, suffocating.
But then … nothing.
No blood.
No pain.
I turn around and see the man who had been pointing the gun at me, now with a bullet between his eyes, lying on the ground. I don’t react. I want to scream and let it all out, but I choke all my feelings down and try to remain calm. He just killed his man. So easily, without even thinking twice.
“What?” I gasp in surprise, raising my eyes to see Cain holding a gun, smoke still curling from its muzzle.
“Boss?” the second man gasps in fear. Sweat trickles down his temples, and his eyes widen as he watches Cain amble toward us. He looks calm. Calm yet furious. His steps are fast and steady. “I can explain.”
“The only reason I’m not killing you right now is because you have to clean this mess,” Cain spits, his eyes locked on mine.
I can’t look away. His intense, dark gaze holds me captive, trapping me in place. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t break free. My heart rate steadies, and my breathing is no longer hitched.
“I-I told him—”
“Shut the fuck up!” Cain barks, giving him a sidelong glance. “I don’t give a damn what you told him. If you don’t wanna end up like that piece of shit, grab him and dump his worthless ass somewhere.”
“But what about—”
Cain shoots him in the thigh without hesitation.
“Fuck!” The guy screams in agony, spitting and turning all red.
“Stop this,” I cry.
“You could’ve avoided this. Now get your ass moving and do what I told you while you’re dragging that useless limp behind you.”
The man clenches his jaw, but not out of anger. He’s scared. Terrified, to be exact. He takes a deep breath and grabs the dead man’s legs, groaning in pain.
“Let’s go home,” Cain says calmly, his eyes returning to mine.
“It’s not home,” I wail. “It’s not my home!”
He tilts his head to the side and exhales deeply. Without a word, he grabs me, lifts me effortlessly, and tosses me over his shoulder, ignoring my protests.
“Let me go! Now!” I hit his back, but he doesn’t seem to flinch.
“I will soon, little rose,” he says, walking toward the entrance.
He’s walking through the mansion slowly and calmly, holding his gun in one hand and me on his shoulder. I protest, I hit him, and I yank myself as hard as I can, but nothing works. Eventually, I stop trying to break free from him and allow him to carry me to my room.
I knew this would happen.
I knew he would catch me and drag me back.
We finally arrive at my bedroom. Slowly, he lets me down on the ground.
“Here. All new.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I shout.
“I am Cain Manson. Owner of the Manson Seaways,” he jeers, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “My ships rule these waters; my word bends men to their knees, and my patience … well, I never had much of that to begin with.”
I glare at him. I take a deep breath, steady myself, and determinedly, I finally speak.
“Sounds exhausting,” I hiss, raising a brow. “All that power, all that control … yet here you are, wasting your breath trying to impress me.” I step closer, tilting my chin up defiantly. “Tell me, Cain. Do they kneel because they respect you, or because they’re too afraid to face you?”
He takes a step closer, reducing the space between us, and looks down at me. “Respect is a luxury I don’t need. Fear, on the other hand, is a currency I deal in.”
I scoff and shake my head. There’s no reason to keep arguing with him. He won’t let me go anyway.
“?uráku!” He’s such a prick!
I take a step back, but I stumble on the carpet. Before I can hit the ground, he’s there, gripping me in mid-air effortlessly.
“T-Thank you,” I mumble, out of breath.
He smirks. “Every time you try to run, your bad luck just comes running right after you.”
I chuckle, my eyes wide and fixed on his. “I guess so.”
He doesn’t let go, and I don’t pull away. He doesn’t adjust his grip, just holds me there, his gaze fixed on my face, eyes scanning every inch of me.
Then, he lifts me into the air and sets me gently on the bed.
“Did you get hurt?” he asks softly, taking a seat right next to me.
I am shocked. After everything that happened, that’s all he has to ask. I don’t say a word, but the frustration is written all over my face. Unbothered, he takes my foot in his hands and massages it gently.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He doesn’t turn his eyes to look at me. Instead, he looks at my foot over his legs. “Taking care of you.”
“Why?”
His fingers move with surprising gentleness, pressing into the arch of my foot, coaxing away a tension I didn’t even realize was there. But I don’t relax. I can’t. Not when my mind is still reeling from everything that led us here.
He finally looks up, his dark green eyes fixed on mine. “Because you’re mine to take care of.”
A cold shiver runs through me. I pull my foot back, but his grip tightens just enough to stop me.
I swallow hard. “I’m not yours.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
I should shove him away. I should fight.
But I don’t. Because the worst part of all of this is that I don’t hate the way he touches me.
It’s calm and gentle, and suddenly, I realize that no one has ever touched me like this before.
No one has ever taken care of me this way.
I’m not in pain. I don’t need his attention or affection, yet he gives it to me anyway.
I look at him, and he looks back at me. His face is bright and joyful. He’s such a weird man. After a few seconds of intense staring, we both smile at the same time.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I say.
“Yes, I did.” He scoffs, returning his eyes to my ankle, and keeps rubbing it. His touch is soft and tender. Caring and sweet.
“Why are you so cruel to people?” I cross my arms.
“I’m not cruel to everyone.”
“Yes, you are.”
Without moving anything else, his eyes shift back to me, and a slow, dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
“No,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp. “Not with you.”
My breath catches.
His fingers press into my skin, making me relax under his touch.
One more time that I should pull away. But I don’t.
“You don’t scare me,” I whisper, though my voice betrays me, sounding shaky.
His smile grows bigger, making the corners of his eyes crease just a bit. “Liar.”
I swallow. “Aren’t you afraid that someone will turn against you?”
“No.”
“How?”
He exhales slowly. “Because, little rose, I know a man who knows a man who knows a man, and so on.” He pulls my foot and drives it to his lips.
“I don’t need to be careful,” he murmurs against my skin.
“I’m untouchable. Everyone has a price, and when the time comes, they’ll betray, they’ll kill without hesitation.
For the right amount, they’d even do it with a smile. ”
“You sound …”
“Filthy? A bastard?” he interrupts, one brow lifting, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
“Yes.”
“I am. But only to those who deserve it.”
“That guy didn’t deserve it.”
His expression hardens instantly. The amusement vanishes, replaced by something sinister.
“No one touches what’s mine,” he murmurs. “No one gets to speak to you like that. No one points a gun at you and lives to talk about it.”
He leans in. “Anyone who tries to hurt you doesn’t just cross a line,” he whispers, his lips brushing against the top of my foot. “They sign their death sentence. And I’ll make damn sure they feel every second of it.”
All this time, there’s one word haunting my mind. Why? Why me?
“You said you’re the reason I’m here,” I determinedly speak up.
“Mhm.”
“You mean in LA?”
“Yes. I arranged your future.”
“Why?”
His dark eyes lift to meet mine. “To save you from them. And have you close to me.”
“Them, who? My parents?”
“It was the next best thing after murder.” He chuckles, lowering his eyes.
He sounds dangerous and dark. Like a man I should stay away from. Then why do I feel my cheeks flushing again?