8. Alaina
CHAPTER 8
ALAINA
Anxiety isn’t my thing. Kelly, bless her, she has struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. Crippling her sometimes. The elephant sitting on her chest, a weight so heavy it takes her breath away. I have always worried over her when the panic wins. She hates it because she feels out of control. While I can understand, from an outsider point of view, it isn’t something I’ve experienced first-hand.
What I feel right now, I imagine this is similar to what she experiences.
Fear is a heavy thing. It sits in my stomach like lead, pressing down on my chest, wrapping around my ribs until it’s hard to breathe. But I’m not stupid.
I know when I’m outmatched, and Chux, whoever he is? He’s not just dangerous—he’s in complete control of this situation.
So, I do the only thing I can do.
I retreat.
I pull back, playing weak, playing small, hoping he’ll drop his guard. Then again, maybe the only person I’m playing is myself. In this situation, I am weak, I am small. He has all the power, I have nothing but instincts and intelligence. I pray neither fail me now.
I press a hand to my temple and sigh. "I have a headache," I say softly. "I just… I need to lay down." Afterall, evening has come in. The skylight windows around the top edges of the walls went from letting in a beautiful bright sunlight, to the bold oranges of sunset, to now the black of the night with only a soft moonlight glow coming through.
His expression doesn’t change. If anything, I think he sees right through me, but after a long moment, he simply nods.
I stand slowly, my legs feeling unsteady as I move toward the only bed in the room. It’s bigger than I expected, the dark charcoal gray sheets neatly pulled over firm pillows, the space far too intimate for what this situation should be.
I climb in, keeping my movements careful, controlled. If I do this right, I can pretend to be asleep and wait until he leaves. Because there’s no way in hell he locked himself in here with me for the night.
Which means there’s a way out. If I stay quiet, when he leaves, I can find my own way out. I know the other man locked me in because I checked the door before I fell apart. Now, though, I’ve had my time to panic. It is time to plan. I’m facing the wall, my back to him, when I hear the rustle of leather.
Curiosity gets the best of me.
I shift slightly, just enough to peek over my shoulder, and what I see makes my breath catch in my throat.
Chux stands at the edge of the bed, his hands moving with slow precision as he strips out of his clothes.
First, he pulls off his leather vest, laying it over the chair with care—like it’s sacred.
Then comes the black t-shirt, revealing a body built for sin—thick muscle, defined abs, and tattoos that turn him into a living, breathing work of art.
Ink sprawls across his chest, crawling up his neck, stretching down both arms in intricate patterns that look both violent and beautiful all at once.
I should look away.
But I don’t.
He unbuckles his belt, sliding it from the loops slowly, as if he knows I’m watching.
When he pushes down his jeans, kicking them off to the side, I swear to God my face catches fire. Because boxer briefs do nothing to hide what’s beneath them.
I go completely still, my throat so dry I can’t swallow.
Chux smirks, his voice thick with amusement. "You like what you see, sweetheart?"
I hate that my body reacts before my brain can shut it down. A sharp shiver rolls through me, something hot curling in my stomach, something I refuse to acknowledge. I whip around so fast I nearly tangle myself in the sheets, turning my back to him as I squeeze my eyes shut.
I hear him chuckle.
Cocky.
Why are men like this?
Smug bastard .
The bed dips, the air shifting around me as his heat moves in close.
And then before I can think, strong arms pull me against him.
I stiffen, my breath catching as his solid chest presses against my back, his body heat wrapping around me like something dark, something dangerous.
He shifts slightly, stretching onto his back, but he doesn’t let me go. One of his arms slides beneath me, tucking under my head, while the other moves up, his fingers finding my scalp. He starts massaging my head .
Gently.
Unbelievably gentle he continues at his task. His fingers work through my hair, slow circles easing over my temples, taking away the tension I didn’t even realize I was holding.
I tell myself I should fight this. I should pull away. I should hate the way my body melts into his like I was made to fit against him.
But I don’t move.
I don’t say a word.
Because for the first time since I saw that pallet of drugs at my back door…I don’t feel scared. And that might just be the most dangerous thing of all.
I keep my eyes closed, my body still as his fingers move through my hair, massaging slow, rhythmic circles over my scalp. I don’t fight it. Once again, it’s all of the things I should do and I don’t. I should do a lot of things. I should flinch away, roll to the other side of the bed, demand that he stop—but I don’t. Instead, my body betrays me, giving in to the warmth of his touch, the steady, controlled pressure of his fingers unwinding the fear that had been coiling in my chest since he locked me in here.
I feel my breathing slow, feel the tension in my jaw release.
"There you go," he murmurs, his voice soft, it barely cuts through the quiet.
I shouldn’t be surprised.
Chux is all rough edges, all hard stares and sharp words, all power and danger wrapped in ink and muscle.
But right now? He is everything I never imagined he could be.
Right now, his touch is gentle, his voice softer than I ever expected.
I want to tell myself it’s a trick. That this moment of comfort is just another way he’s keeping me in check. But exhaustion seeps into my bones, dragging me under, and I let it.
I don’t fight the warmth.
I don’t fight him.
For the first time in hours, maybe longer, I let my eyes close fully.
And I fall asleep in his arms.
Unfortunately morning comes, reality is back. I wake, the warmth is gone.
A cold, sharp fear replaces it.
I bolt upright, heart hammering, my breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. My eyes fly around the room, wild and desperate. Where am I? The events from before hit me like a freight train, slamming into my chest, making my stomach lurch.
I was locked in here.
I was taken under duress without a clue as to what is going on, to an unknown destination where I now shack up with a man who I don’t actually know anything about.
My hands tremble as I throw the blanket off, my bare feet hitting the cool floor.
How long was I asleep?
I frantically scan the small windows, but the sky outside taunts me giving me no real clue as to the time of day.
I reach for my phone—my last lifeline—but the zero signal bars mock me.
I am trapped.
My pulse pounds, the edges of my vision tunneling for a second before I force myself to breathe. Panicking won’t help. I try to mentally calm my nerves.
But the truth is so much worse than the panic. Because I don’t know how to get out. If I get honest I don’t know if I want to get out. What if the danger outside is worse than the attraction I have to a man I don’t know.
I press my fingers against my temples, trying to steady the pounding in my head. My mind is a mess—Konstantin, Chux, this whole damn situation that keeps pulling me deeper. But right now, there’s only one thing I can focus on.
Kelly.
She’s probably worried sick, wondering why I haven’t answered her texts, why I haven’t shown up at the shop. I can’t leave her in the dark, not when I know how she gets when I disappear without a word. But my phone’s dead, not that it matters since I haven’t had a signal since I got locked in here.
I take a slow breath and glance at Chux, who’s sitting up in the bed, arms folded over his chest, watching me like he’s waiting for my next move.
“I need to make a call,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel.
His brows lift slightly. “Who?”
“Kelly.”
His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of trick. “And what exactly are you telling her?”
“That I’m fine,” I say quickly. “That she doesn’t need to worry. But I also need her to cover the shop while I’m gone.”
Chux exhales through his nose, like he’s already decided he doesn’t like this. “You realize the second you call her, she’s gonna know something’s off, right?”
“She’s my best friend,” I say. “She already knows something’s off.”
His jaw tightens. I can tell he’s debating it, but finally, he gets up, moves to the door. There he gives a three sharp knock alert. The door opens, he mutters something to whomever is on the other side of the door before turning back to me phone in hand, and then holds it out to me. “On speaker.”
I don’t argue. I just take the phone and dial her number, my pulse racing as it rings.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hello,” She answers timidly.
“Kelly,” Alaina begins but she’s cut off.
“ What the hell, Ally?! ”
I wince. “Kel?—”
“Don’t you Kel me!” she snaps. “I’ve been texting, calling—where are you?”
I glance at Chux, who’s watching me with that unreadable expression. “I’m… out of town for a bit.”
“ Out of town ?” she repeats. “With no warning? No call? What’s going on?”
I grip the phone a little tighter. “No questions right now. I just need you to cover for me, okay? I don’t want you in this.”
There’s a long pause. “You know that’s not how this works.”
I close my eyes for a second, hating this. I want to tell her the truth which isn’t much. But I need her safe, and that means keeping her out of this.
Chux reaches over, grabbing the phone before I can stop him.
“Kelly,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “I’m sending Riot to you. He’ll be at your side any time you’re at the shop. I’ve had eyes on you, but this will work better any way. If anyone calls or comes by asking, Ally is out sick with the flu. No shipments get opened except by Riot. You got me?”
There’s a heavy silence, then, “Who the fuck is this? Who the hell is Riot?”
I rub my forehead. “Kel, it’s fine?—”
“No, it’s not fine,” she snaps. “Who the hell is talking like they run my life right now?”
Chux smirks slightly, but his tone stays even. “Name’s Chux. And I don’t run your life—I just keep the people in it from getting dead.”
Kelly lets out a sharp breath. “Ally, what is going on?”
I grip the phone tighter. “Just listen to me, okay? Everything he just said? You follow it. Don’t ask questions. If anyone comes looking for me, I’m out with the flu. Please don’t fight me on this. When I can tell you, I will and I won’t leave anything out.”
Another pause from Kelly. Then, in a quieter voice, “I don’t like this.”
I swallow hard. “I know.”
“But you’re my best friend,” she says, voice full of something I can’t explain. “And I’ll do anything.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She sighs. “I love you, Ally. I just want to know what’s going on.”
I force a weak smile. “I know and I love you too.”
Chux reaches over, ending the call before she can say anything else.
I exhale shakily, handing the phone back. “Happy now? I didn’t tell her anything.”
He studies me for a moment. “No.”
I frown. “Why?”
His jaw tics. “Because she’s right. You do owe her an explanation. And eventually, you’re gonna have to give it.”
I look away, staring at the dark wood of the table.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I know.”
How can I explain something I don’t understand?