Chapter 15 — Kiera
Two months, one week, and three days. That was how long it had been since I left Nial’s mansion. He never called, never texted, never even showed up at my place. He just moved on with his life as though I never existed, like I never mattered.
With each passing day, my hatred for that man grew stronger. He’d stepped into my life and almost ruined everything I spent years building. My career. What did he think was going to happen after he “set me free”?
Adjusting to my old life wasn’t smooth at all. Luckily for me, my desk was still reserved. I could’ve come clean about my kidnapping and even gone to the cops for help. I knew his face, his name, and what organization he worked for.
But I knew the difference between bravery and stupidity. Nial Tarasov already made it clear that he owned half the city. The man had eyes and ears everywhere. He had moles in every office who reported to him daily.
Going to the cops would’ve only made things worse for me. Because even if he didn’t come for my head, someone else in his organization would.
I had to make up a story about why I was absent from work for weeks. I told my supervisor that I’d come down with a strange illness on my grandma’s farm. I told her we didn’t have Wi-Fi there and that there was no signal at all. That was why I couldn’t reach out.
She bought the story. Even sympathized with me and asked whether I was fit to resume work.
Two things. Either she genuinely believed my story, or she knew the truth and decided to play dumb. For all I knew, she might be working for Nial and the Bratva.
Nobody at the office questioned my story. They all just seemed glad to have me back. However, having experienced what I did as Nial’s prisoner, adjusting to my normal life seemed a bit difficult.
I began to question everything I thought I stood for, wondering whether it was worth it. I started to pay more attention to details in everything I did or saw. Nothing was black and white anymore. I knew that for sure.
The office that had once been my safe haven now felt strangely unfamiliar. It seemed like everyone around me was faking it: forced smiles, hidden glances, and hushed conversations.
Was I the only person here who wasn’t bought over?
I saw through the plastic grins but decided to push through regardless.
July’s case was still open, and I knew I should let it go. But since Nial wasn’t the one tied to these human trafficking cases, I chose to pursue it.
Besides, I had a bone to pick with that asshole called Vika. We’d been working together on this case since I returned—July and me. She was afraid because she knew who we were dealing with and what they were capable of.
I was terrified too.
However, I wasn’t going to allow my fears to stop me from doing the right thing. Vika had destroyed so many lives, and he deserved to rot in jail.
Anxious and petrified, we pushed through with the case, gathering as much evidence against him as we could find. The only problem was that I was working blind with no one to trust.
I was driving home that evening when I recalled July’s concerned words.
“How’re we gonna pull this off without getting shut down? These people are everywhere, and right now, we don’t know who we can trust.”
My response to her was, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
I hadn’t figured it out yet, not at all. Because even with all this evidence, one order from above, and it was all going down the drain.
At this point, I couldn’t help thinking maybe the reason no one had interfered or asked me to stop was because they were waiting for the right time.
Whatever the case, I wasn’t going to quit now. I must at least try first.
I steered the car down a street when I noticed the vehicle quickly catching up behind me. I wanted to ignore it at first, thinking it was just some random car.
However, shit got real when it crashed into my rear bumper with a hard thud. My grip tightened on the wheel, my heart skipping a beat. They hit me again. Harder this time.
“Fuck,” I murmured under my breath, slamming on the accelerator.
My car shot through the streets like a missile, tires squealing loudly on each reckless swerve. The world blurred past outside my window as those guys chased me through the city.
I weaved through traffic at high speed, my speedometer needle climbing up to triple digits. When I glanced at the side mirror, I saw a man sticking his head out of the moving vehicle with a gun in his hand.
“Shit.” I turned another corner without warning. My tires screeched against the asphalt, loud and dangerous.
Horns blared as drivers hit their brakes to avoid a collision.
“Fuckin’ cunt!” one yelled at the top of his voice.
“Where’d you learn to drive?!”
Their insults were the least of my problems right now. Whoever those guys were behind me, they had guns, and they weren’t slowing down. Neither was I.
I stepped on the accelerator, switching gears with apt precision. Every swerve, every street I turned, they were there on my six, tailing my every move.
The black SUV caught up in no time, and now both cars were traveling side by side. When I looked across the front passenger window, I saw a man aiming his handgun at me.
And without hesitation, I slammed on the brakes before he could pull the trigger. The shot rang out, but the bullet missed my car completely. My tires squealed as I swerved behind them, hitting their rear bumper in the process.
Their vehicle jerked at the impact.
I hit them again. Harder this time.
The man with the handgun stuck his head out the window again and began firing at my windshield. One bullet knocked down my side mirror, and I lowered my head, my car still on their tail.
A truck ahead honked loudly, its bright headlights beaming as it approached. I saw it as an opportunity, and I took it without wasting time. My engine revved, and I lunged forward, hitting their rear bumper harder than before.
The collision knocked their car off balance, and the driver, having lost control, swerved right in front of the incoming truck.
“Fuck.” My eyes widened in shock as I watched the truck smash into their vehicle.
The crash was grotesque—glass shattered, metal compressed as the car somersaulted down the road. My heart sank when I glanced back at the horrible accident I’d just caused. There was no way they were surviving that.
A cold shiver ran down my spine as I combed my fingers through my hair. My pulse was racing, and panic had settled in my heaving chest.
Before I could do anything else, an incoming vehicle ran into the side of my car. I yelped, struggling to grab the wheel as the car spun out of control. Literally.
The sound of screeching tires filled the air, mingling with the smell of gas and burnt rubber. While my car was spinning, my head smashed into the glass window, broken shards cutting through my skin.
Finally, I regained control and brought it to a halt in the middle of the road. My head was bleeding, heavy, and throbbing. I winced at the pain, wondering what had just happened.
The sound of a revving engine caught my attention, and when I lifted my head, I saw another black SUV speeding toward me. It was identical to the one that crashed earlier.
I assumed it was the same car that almost knocked me off the road. Alert, I turned the key multiple times, but the stupid thing wouldn’t start.
“Fuck!” I muttered, struggling to start the engine. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon….” The words tumbled out in a frantic rush.
I glanced up, and the car was closing in on me. Fast. “Start, goddammit!” I slammed my hand on the steering wheel.
The engine roared to life.
I set the vehicle in reverse and, with a dangerous swerve, turned down another street. They fired their guns at me as they chased after my car.
How many of these guys were there, for Christ’s sake?
I still couldn’t believe this high-speed chase was happening. The whole thing seemed like a scene from a Hollywood action movie. My heart was pounding so loudly against my ribs I thought it was about to explode.
A van shot out of nowhere, blocking the end of the street. Three masked men jumped out, their rifles aimed at me. My eyes widened in fear when they opened fire. I ducked, the bullets smashing through my windshield.
Confused and disoriented, I lost control for a moment, and the car ran into a streetlamp. The impact created a dent in the pole, forcing it to bend forward. The bulb burst into violent sparks, making the light flicker.
Thanks to the seatbelt and the airbag that exploded in my face, I wasn’t dead. Yet. My head was still spinning when someone yanked my door open and grabbed me by the hair.
“Get over here!”
I was dragged out of the car and thrown to the ground as armed men surrounded me.
“Put a bullet in her skull, and let’s get out of here,” one said in accented English.
“The bitch killed Sergei and the others,” another replied, unsheathing a blade. “She doesn’t deserve a quick death.”
He leaned in and grabbed me by the neck, the blade glinting in his hand. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”
“Drop the knife if you like your head where it is,” a familiar voice came from the shadows, calm and commanding.
They turned toward the speaker, his measured footsteps echoing off the walls. And from the darkness, a figure emerged.
It was Nial.
The second they realized who they were dealing with, they backed away without protest. He didn’t say another word, but his presence was enough to send them running.
The guy holding me by the neck was the first to take off, fear etched in his gaze. He mumbled something under his breath in Russian as he bolted toward his car.
Engines roared to life, and both vehicles zoomed off, leaving me on the ground. My heart was still pounding, my brain not yet registering the crazy things that happened to me tonight alone.
But when I met his gaze as he towered over me like that, all that pent-up rage came rushing back in. My face twisted into a frown, a mix of hatred and adrenaline coursing through my blood.
“Wanna tell me what you’re doing getting involved in Bratva business?” he asked, exuding that familiar sense of calm.
“What, are you following me now?” I struggled to my feet, barely able to stand. “Don’t touch me!” I slapped his hand off as he reached out, trying to help.
He paused. “What do you think would’ve happened if I were a second late?”
I let out a dismissive scoff. “You want me to grovel at your feet and praise you for saving my life? Is that what you want?”
His expression turned ugly, triggered by the irritation in my tone. “What I want is for you to stay the hell away from Bratva business.”
I lost it, furious at his audacity to still think he can control my life. “Well, you might as well just fuck off because I can’t do that!”
His jaw tightened.
I walked over to him, seething, eyes red with fury. “I don’t tell you how to do your job. What makes you think you can tell me how to do mine?!”
“You almost got killed tonight,” he said, his voice rising a bit higher than normal.
“And whose fault is that?!” I snapped, my pulse racing. “Your cousin is out there, trafficking innocent girls, and nobody is doing a damn thing to stop him!” My voice rose with each sentence.
“Exactly,” he answered immediately. “And what does that tell you?”
“That everyone else is a pussy!”
Silence.
A dark cloud began forming in the sky, and soon a low rumble of thunder sounded above.
He stepped forward, his eyes roaming over my body for a moment. The closer he drew to me, the more I felt my anger melt away. When he closed the distance between us, and I felt his warm breath against my skin, my heart sank.
I blinked a few times, struggling with the images of our naked bodies flashing in my head. A part of me craved his touch and wished he would reach out to hold me.
But he didn’t. He kept his hands to himself while those storm-gray eyes bore into mine. My heart raced with anticipation, and my lips quivered as I stared back at him. The air was charged with something electric, and it weakened my knees.
I hated how badly I was affected by this man’s commanding presence. Even the scent of his cologne ignited a fire within me, one that hadn’t burned in months.
He finally broke the stillness. “Heroes die before their time in this world, Kiera.”
The sound of his deep voice sent shivers down my spine, reminding me of the magic of his tongue. This was a serious moment, yet all I could think about was how good a lover he was. And I hated myself for that.
“Drop this case if you wanna live,” he said, his gaze unwavering.
“I don’t like threats.” My face turned ugly. “You should know that by now.”
“It’s not a threat,” he answered. “Take it as a piece of advice.”
“Since when did you grow a conscience?”
An awkward silence fell between us, broken by another clash of thunder. Lightning streaked the dark clouds above, and soon, it began raining.
“Go home,” he whispered.
With that, he slowly withdrew from me and walked away. As I watched him leave, tears began streaming down my cheeks, masked by the rain.
Was I a terrible person for not telling him the truth? He deserved to know, didn’t he?
Did he truly develop a conscience over the past two months? Why did he care so much about my safety? How the hell did he even know I was in trouble? Was he really following me?
I didn’t know what to make of this encounter. And that uncertainty gnawed at me without mercy.
Maybe I did the right thing by keeping this secret to myself. But for how long? He was definitely going to find out sooner or later that I was carrying his child.
My hand instinctively darted to my lower abdomen, my heart drumming in my chest. The same man who had caused me so much pain was the father of my unborn child.
I’d messed up.
I’d messed up big time.