Chapter 24 Naomi #2
The name means nothing to me, but Viktor's reaction tells me everything I need to know. In a world where men like Viktor inspire terror in ordinary people, someone who can make Viktor afraid is a force of nature. A hurricane in human form.
Lucien's gaze darts from me to Viktor, his tone smooth, his accent European with a French lilt that makes even simple words sound elegant and dangerous. “This woman belongs to you and Daniil?” His words drip with mockery, as if the entire situation amuses him.
I freeze, caught between two predators circling each other. The air crackles with violence barely held in check, and I press myself harder against the brick wall, trying to become invisible. My heart pounds so hard I'm surprised neither of the men can hear it.
Lucien's eyes return to me, and I feel naked.
He takes in my appearance with the same attention someone might pay to a racehorse before placing a bet.
When his gaze lingers on my stomach, I realize he knows about the pregnancy, too.
Somehow, impossibly, my most guarded secret has become common knowledge among Chicago's criminal elite.
“The infamous Naomi Carter,” Lucien continues. “I must admit, I'm curious to see what all the fuss is about.”
Viktor shifts, positioning himself between Lucien and me. The gesture might seem protective if I didn't know better. “She belongs to the Zorin family. You have no claim here.”
“Claims are such tedious things,” Lucien replies, examining his manicured fingernails as if the conversation bores him. “I prefer to take what I want and let others sort out the paperwork later.”
The tension stretches between them like a wire about to snap, their hands hovering near concealed weapons. The SUVs idle ominously, their engines providing a low rumble that vibrates through the alley walls.
I count the seconds, measuring them by heartbeats and shallow breaths.
The smell of exhaust mingles with the lingering bakery scents, creating a surreal combination of comfort and menace.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wails, but it's moving away from us, leaving us alone with our dangerous standoff.
The air splits with gunfire. The first shot comes from Viktor's direction, a sharp crack that echoes off the brick walls like a whip.
Lucien moves with inhuman speed, diving behind his SUV as glass explodes from Viktor's windshield.
The sound is deafening in the confined space, and I instinctively curl into a ball against the wall.
Bullets explode against brick, sending chips of mortar and dust raining down on my head.
Sparks shower from shattered glass as more gunfire erupts.
The alley transforms into a war zone, filled with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the metallic taste of fear.
The crack of rifles and the thunder of pistols drown out my thoughts, leaving only terror and the instinct to survive.
Men spill from both SUVs like ants from a disturbed hill. They take cover behind garbage bins and fire escapes. Muzzle flashes illuminate their faces in brief, hellish snapshots.
I press against the wall, covering my head. Chunks of brick and pieces of glass land around me, and I taste blood where I've bitten my tongue. The noise is overwhelming, a symphony of violence that makes thinking impossible.
Through the chaos, I see Lucien's men advancing. They wear dark tactical gear and move like a unit, communicating with hand signals and covering each other's movements. Viktor's people are outnumbered but fighting back.
A bullet strikes the wall inches from my head, sending brick fragments into my hair.
I sob once, the sound lost in the gunfire, and try to make myself smaller.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone, but the screen is cracked from when I dove for cover.
Even if I could call for help, what would I tell them?
That two crime families are having a shootout over me?
Strong hands seize me, yanking me onto my feet with bruising force. Viktor's voice growls in my ear, low and furious. “You're mine.”
His grip is iron around my arms, and I can smell his sweat mixed with adrenaline. He's breathing hard from the firefight, and there's blood on his collar from a graze across his neck. His eyes are wild as his carefully laid plans unravel.
Before I can fight back or even scream, he shoves me into the backseat of his SUV.
The leather is cold against my skin, and I can hear bullets pinging off the armored exterior.
The door slams shut, sealing me inside just as another round of gunfire rattles the metal frame.
The sound is different from inside the vehicle, muffled but no less terrifying.
The driver floors the accelerator, and the vehicle jerks forward into the night. My head snaps back against the headrest, and I grab for anything to steady myself. The SUV's tires scream against asphalt as we rocket out of the alley, leaving the gunfight behind.
Through the bulletproof glass, I watch the battle fade into the distance.
Muzzle flashes look like deadly fireflies, and the sound of gunfire becomes a distant drumbeat.
Somewhere in that chaos, Lucien Antonov is probably still fighting, trying to claim whatever prize I represent in this game I don't understand.
My heart pounds as I clutch the leather seat. Viktor sits across from me, checking his weapon. Blood stains his collar, but his hands remain steady.
Chicago's lights become streaks of color as we speed through streets I should recognize but don't. Every turn takes me further from safety and any hope of rescue. Inside, I know the truth with crushing clarity. I've been taken, and Daniil has no idea where I am.
END OF BOOK ONE
Take me to Book 2, Crimson Curse!