11. -10-
Nina
The fight to get Dorian into the safe house was even worse than the one in the garage.
My abdomen hurt like fuck from wrestling with his limp body.
Lucas cursed so much that we had to stop several times because I laughed like a lunatic, which only made the pain in my muscles worse.
But the situation was too ridiculous not to crack up.
“Finally, you heavy bear,” Lucas exhaled as we let Dorian fall onto the old mattress, which creaked under his weight. “Even the bed is crying.” He shook his head, wiping the sweat from his face. “Couldn’t you pick someone in your weight category?”
“It’s too late to think about that now, isn’t it?” I flashed him a shut-up look and mustered all my remaining strength to turn Dorian on his back. I almost fell on him, but I managed, taking in the magnificent sight of the absolute perfection before me.
His head rested on the flowery cover that looked centuries old, his face peaceful as if he were dreaming.
A few strands of his hair were glued to his forehead, and the rest was tousled, like a bird’s nest. His long eyelashes fluttered faintly against his skin, and with every breath, his nostrils moved a little.
The corners of his plump lips curved slightly upward, and if it wasn’t for the sickly paleness of his cheeks, no one would be able to tell he was drugged.
My knight in shining armor was only asleep, and if I kissed him, he would wake up. Right?
“Stop staring at him like he’s the last piece of a chocolate cake, Nina,” Lucas grumbled, making me almost jump out of my skin. I completely forgot about him. “You’re creeping me out.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, awkwardly pushing myself up. Somehow, I had ended up with my arms crossed on Dorian’s chest and my head resting on them. But I couldn’t resist him when he looked like a sleeping beauty who needed rescuing. And I was open to tasting those delicious lips anytime.
“The bag you requested is in the next room.” Lucas pointed into the hall, ignoring the heat in my cheeks. “But we have no food or guns.”
“I have a gun,” I whispered, smiling innocently when he shot me a surprised look. “And my bow and arrows are in the car. I wouldn’t go into this unarmed.”
“Are you training again?” he asked, the exhaustion and obvious annoyance with this situation vanishing into thin air. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve trained with you!”
“I needed to start alone,” I admitted, forcing myself out of bed. “The last time I was there was with Grandpa.”
“Yeah, about that.” Lucas scratched his chin, his gaze landing on mildly snoring Dorian. “Are you okay with this man being involved in murdering your role model?”
I bit my lower lip, considering his question.
I thought about Dorian and his brothers almost erasing my entire family from this world many times, but we had a life.
My grandfather picked an uneven fight, failed, and paid the price.
I wasn’t angry at the Zhumagulovs for killing him.
I was furious at Giovanni for starting this disaster.
“It was the rule of nature,” I said after a pause. “The stronger will always win.”
“But—”
“I don’t blame Dorian, Malin, or Zyon for Giovanni’s death,” I cut him off, glancing directly into his eyes to let him know I meant what I said. “They were at war.”
He didn’t ask more. We’d discussed our families’ standing in this mess many times, and while his brothers skated out of it almost unharmed, my dad wasn’t so lucky. So now, I had to deal with my part the best I could. End of the story.
Lucas left shortly after we moved the stuff from the truck into the house, and he made indecent comments about my outfit.
I had to admit that leather pants, a jacket, and a mask were unconventional, but this was a fucking kidnapping, not role-playing.
I had a gun on my right hip, a knife attached to my thigh, and the bow rested close by on the old wooden desk just in case.
According to everything I knew about Dorian, he was a skilled fighter.
He participated in cage fights for more than ten years and, like his brothers, mastered a Chinese martial art called Dim Mak.
The internet claimed it targeted pressure points and could kill with one strike, though most sources treated it as legend rather than proven science.
Whatever the truth, I wasn’t negotiating with Dorian unarmed.
Despite the trouble, I loved my life, thank you very much.
I plopped into the armchair opposite the bed and watched Dorian sleep.
Not much had changed since we arrived; only Lucas helped me remove his suit jacket, and I cuffed his hands to the bed.
His arms would be sore from being in an unnatural position for so long, but I couldn’t risk an escape.
If he freed himself, it could become a death sentence for either of us. I was protecting us both.
Exhaling deeply in pure boredom, I looked around the bedroom, but nothing held my interest as much as Dorian’s sleepy face. However, it was unhealthy to stare at him for hours, so I directed my attention to the house.
Normally, I wouldn’t set foot in an abandoned place with haunted-house vibes, but for my crime, it was the perfect lair.
Hidden in the middle of the forest, surrounded by tall trees, bushes, and a six-foot-tall fence, no one would accidentally come across this land.
I would also welcome a guard dog outside, but given the distance to the nearest house, it wasn’t feasible.
I stood up and walked to the bookshelf. The books were as old as the entire house.
Their soft pages almost turned to dust when I touched them.
They were mostly about Eastern medicine and meditation, which wasn’t my cup of tea, but with nothing more to do, I tried one.
Then I went for a walk around the property.
The garden resembled a jungle more than a place to connect with nature.
Once-decorative bushes were overgrown, and weeds choked the flowerbeds, muting their colors to a sickly brown.
The smell of decay lingered in the air while puddles reflected the cold grey sky.
This place had been abandoned not only by people but by life itself.
The house wasn’t any better. Its shabby walls needed renovation, the roof leaked, and part of the balcony railing had collapsed. It was suitable for hiding for a few days, but living here longer would drain every color from my world.
Still, it matched my current thinking perfectly.
While I, probably naively, believed my plan would succeed, the annoying, realistic voice in the back of my mind refused to shut up.
My plan had two possible endings, and only one favored me.
In the other, I joined my grandfather in the afterlife, forgotten as if I had never walked this earth.
“Shit,” I cursed, jumping to my feet to shake off the unpleasant feeling.
Paranoia breathed down my neck, and Malin’s blank eyes stared at me from every shadow. Now that the adrenaline had faded, reality refused to let me rest. There was no hole deep enough to escape Zyon and Malin’s wrath once they discovered an enemy abducted their triplet.
I hugged my torso as I returned to the house, accidentally pressing against the bruise on my ribs. Pain shot through me, reminding me why I did this. If my choices were a quick death at the hands of Dorian’s brothers or years of torture with Sonny, there was no choice at all. The Zhumagulovs won.
As always, since my unhealthy obsession with Dorian started, looking at him calmed me.
Seeing him this close was even more comforting than admiring his photos all night.
The moment my eyes landed on his sleeping face, every dreadful scenario vanished.
I only focused on his steady breathing and the harmony that wrapped around me like a blanket.
Sitting beside him, I couldn’t help but touch his hand.
My fingertips traced the lines of his tattoos, finding the corner of the poker card on his forearm.
Gently, I moved the sleeve up, exposing the ace of hearts drawn in collage with a grinning joker.
Its judgmental eyes pierced my skull as if it could read my thoughts and decide my punishment.
I moved my gaze away, continuing up Dorian’s arm when the deep, groggy voice interrupted my observation.
“What the fuck…” he whispered, and my mouth instantly went dry.
My heart rate increased in a millisecond, leaping into a violent pounding in my chest. I snatched my fingers away from his skin, feeling the tremor possessing not only my hands but my entire body.
My stomach cramped and nausea climbed up my throat.
This is it, I thought, swallowing thickly.
I hurried into the shadow of the heavy curtains and secured the white Venetian mask over my face.
Watching Dorian slowly open his eyes, I felt blood rushing through my veins; the deafening thudding of my heart echoed in my ears, and I instinctively placed my hand on the gun at my hip.
He was cuffed to the bed. He couldn’t hurt me, but one could never be sure how the mafia prince would react to being immobilized and eventually threatened and blackmailed.
The reality of those words made me dizzy. It was a fucking terrible idea. I knew it, but my racing heart told a different story.
This was my future husband, my savior, my new beginning. From the moment I took him, he was mine forever.