Twenty-Four
Ara
I am right.
I am going to die, just at the ripe age of twenty-seven, not having lived my life to the fullest. And the reason will be my best friend, who is as good as dead if we ever made it out alive.
I regret not calling Iyra last night. I regret not finishing that tub of salted caramel ice cream. I regret not being able to eat the meal I’ve been dreaming of all day. I regret not hugging Cas more tightly and telling him how much I love him. Most of all, I regret not tying Ivy to her bed.
There is a piece of information that I missed in the memo about running away from seven freaking men who were well-built to overthrow a truck. It is that flip flops and chases did not go well. It is my sheer luck that these men are only trained to fight and cause chaos and not run.
Or maybe I’ve been training myself to run to gain an advantage in situations like this. But, I’ve never thought my stupid frigging footwear would be a hindrance. The reason I might end up dead. Or forgetting the bag with my gun when we ran from that dingy pub.
Ivy didn’t have any trouble running, though. She is gliding through the streets in her comfortable running shoes, always staying a few steps ahead of me.
One of the men nearly grazed my hair, and I was so terrified that I let out a blood-curdling scream and sprayed him with an extra power pepper spray that Ivy threw at me. And because he called me a bitch and I wouldn’t get lucky the next time if he caught up to me, I slipped from my flips and threw it at him. I didn’t wait to see if the heel hit him in the eye as I was busy trying not to think about the wet, gooey and nasty stuff touching my feet.
These streets are a nightmare for any clean person, and for a germaphobe like myself, it is more than a nightmare. For making me go through this, I am going to kill Ivy twice.
Once we make out of this chase alive, that is.
“I….I….Kill..you.” I huff out.
“I will hand you the knife myself. Now run!” Ivy cries as she looks back.
I turn along with her, and a pained wail makes its way out of my throat.
The image which greets me when I look over my shoulder must be the most terrifying thing that has happened to me recently. Seven huge, burly men, who look so furious with us, chase with the intent of murder, which is written on all their equally scary faces. Few of them even take out their guns and start to fire randomly at us.
I cover my ears with my hands and fasten my pace as if the hounds of hell were behind us. In a way, they are.
I hope Ivy knows where she is taking us. Because if my memory serves right about the city map, we weren’t running towards the city but instead away from it. And it is for the first time that I wish I was wrong. That my calculations are wrong. But they are not, and it is proved as much when the path ahead is leading us towards the port and away from the pier where all the boats and tourists are.
In our hurry to escape them, we have taken the wrong turn and ended up in a place which would make it easy for these thugs to bury us.
“What’s your genius plan? To get on a boat and row?” I scream in frustration but don’t stop running.
If anything, I hold Ivy’s wrist tight in my grip and pull her along with me at an alarming pace.
“You are the fucking genius out of us two. So if you say that’s the plan, then that’s the plan.” Ivy retorts.
Both of us cry out when a bullet misses my side of the head within inches.
“This way,” I rush us towards the area where all the shipping containers are placed.
Walius has a tremendously large dock area that is noted in many encyclopaedias. If we manage to get lost inside them, it would give us a chance to escape. We can hide in between the containers, which are larger than a small apartment and run when our chasers are confused. I am great with directions, and it would be a piece of cake to remember every turn we take, especially with my brain running on adrenaline.
That is, if they won’t have enough brains to appoint one of them to guard the entry gate. I don’t know if this place has any other entry, and I do not have enough time to figure it out.
When I look back after making it halfway towards a blue container, I turn around, and much to my pleasure, none of those men lurk back at the gate.
Maybe they are too confident about catching us.
With a new zeal, I rush us into the labyrinth of containers, taking a sharp left, then a right and a left and so on, until I can no longer hear those darned thugs breathing behind us. Commands are flying around in the air about finding us, but the voices sound too far away and opposite from us. But to be on the safe side, I make another few zig-zags until my heart temporarily relaxes.
My legs fail me as I lean on a green container behind me, and I sink into a sitting position on the asphalt ground. My legs scream in pain, and I try not to take in a greedy amount of oxygen into my lungs because that acts counterproductive after a sprint.
I refuse to look at my overused feet, sacred about what kind of gross garbage I would find on them. The obsessive need to fish out my sanitiser spray and clean my legs is weighing down on me, but a measly spray wouldn’t be enough. I need to douse them in a tub of sanitiser or peel away the present skin and wait for the new layer to grow back. It would be hurtful weeks of wait, but they would be clean this time.
“Did you call someone for help?” Ivy asks while she looks around.
She, too, is breathing hard, but instead of sinking onto the floor like me, she is looking around for an escape or a hiding spot. Hopefully, it is the second one because I don’t think I have enough stamina left inside me for another sprint.
“No.”
I do not need water.
I do not need water.
I do not need any water.
Fudge biscuits! I’m thirsty now.
“Why the hell not?” Ivy gives me an incredulous glare.
“Excuse me for not making a pit stop to make a call while seven goons were chasing my arse.” I snap.
“There’s no signal here,” Ivy announces.
I don’t even have the energy to recheck as I am trying to organise the directions we need to take to run back towards the entrance.
“Ara, follow me,” Ivy orders after a few minutes of intense searching.
It looks like something is going my way on this dreadful night.
Ivy signals me to crouch low and follow her while she crawls into a tiny hole which was made into a black shipping container. It is covered by wooden crates and is hidden in the dark that it would only be visible if one paid a lot of attention to this exact spot. And the only way Ivy must have seen it is because the wooden crates did not cover it fully right now.
Ivy crawls into the dark space while I follow her and turn to close the mouth of the hole as silently as possible. It takes a few amounts of wiggling of my butt to get inside, and there is no way in hell those men could fit in through this tiny hole.
Even then, I am not taking any chances of them finding us. I am just a few inches from hiding the hole from view with the crates when-
“Holy fuck!” Ivy squeals right behind me, which causes me to startle and topple the wooden crates.
I wince when the top three boxes fall and cause heavy noise, which is a sure-shot way to announce our place of hiding. But I still close the remaining three crates to cover the hole through which we crawled in, holding onto a stupid hope that they didn’t hear it.
With frustration and wild fury coating my insides, I turn around and crawl until I can see the silhouette of Ivy’s standing form. I don’t even bother to stand on my legs before I pin the side of her face with a glare while she looks at something ahead of her.
“Might as well slam on these walls and announce them where we are hiding, you pea-brained midget!” I sit back on my knees when my palms sting and frown when Ivy doesn’t even turn to look at me.
“Annoying twat.” I grumble as I turn around to see what is so great that held her attention.
I don’t see the dim light until I turn, and then it catches me—no, pins me—in place. The sight that meets my eyes brings a clash of emotions: shock, fear, and something else, something magnetic and wrong that pulls me in against all reason.
Under the low light, Zagan leans against the container wall, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a cigarette dangling from his lips, the smoke curling lazily around him. There are wooden crates behind him, and I just know that he wouldn’t be here if they were anything legal.
His posture is deceptively casual, but there’s an intensity in his gaze that’s anything but. His eyes sweep over me with a look that’s blank but all-seeing, a force that leaves me unable to move or breathe.
Another man stands beside him, and though I can’t fully see him in the dim light, his presence feels like ice in my veins. His suit is immaculate, and he carries himself with a quiet, cutting edge. Tall, with cheekbones that look sharp enough to wound, covered in light subtle and a jawline that holds no softness, he radiates control. Even without seeing his eyes, I feel the cold detachment in his demeanour. Every edge of him is honed, refined—a dagger disguised as a man.
And yet, for all the intimidation this stranger holds, it’s Zagan who keeps my attention, and the tight coil of fear in my chest unfurls into something confusing and dangerous. This man beside him holds power like a fighter—unshakable, distant. But Zagan... Zagan's presence feels raw, and reckless, like the primal danger of a beast that can’t be tamed. He’s not just powerful; he’s feral, exuding an authority that’s both terrifying and… undeniable.
And somehow, I can’t tear my gaze away.
“Wandering again?”
My eyes snap towards the towering man inside the space, who speaks with a delusive calm as he switches on a few more lights.
I can now see the expression on Zagan’s face, and it does not look pretty. If I had any other option, I would be running to the hills instead of being turned into a stone on the spot.
Ivy takes a step forward.
“We’re being chased,” she says, glancing between them.
I flick my gaze toward the stranger for a moment, catching the glint of haunting amber eyes that track every movement Ivy and I make. I was right—there’s nothing warm about him, just a chilling, detached intensity.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoes against the metal walls of the container to my left, followed by the hoarse shouts of the men chasing us. A startled scream escapes my lips as I instinctively scurry closer to Zagan, seeking refuge in his imposing presence. Better the devil I knew than the ones who are intent on killing me.
I don’t think twice before hiding behind his towering frame, but I am mindful about not touching him. Up this close, I look like a dwarf compared to this gigantic man who is rippling with muscles and raw power oozing off him. I am easily hidden behind him, and he looks behind his shoulder, his impossibly handsome face giving nothing away.
Ivy stands in a corner to my right, somewhere far from both men.
“Can you help us?” I look up at him.
He turns his body sideways.
“Of course I can.” It is impressive how he can make those words sound so arrogant in his gruff and monotonous voice.
Suppressing the urge to roll my eyes because I need his help, I try another approach.
“Will you help us?” I try again.
This time, he turns his whole body to face mine. It is difficult not to take an instinctive step back at his imposing presence, but I somehow manage. His meticulous eyes rove over my dishevelled appearance until he looks down at my bare feet. His gaze stays on them for a second longer before he turns back to my eyes, still having that annoying poker face on him.
Maybe all he felt was anger on rare occasions, and most of the time, maybe he didn’t feel anything at all.
What a lonely way to live. A flicker of sympathy rises inside my heart for this man.
“Why should I?” he raises a brow.
And he blows away that flicker of sympathy I just felt. He should stay alone all his life. But I cannot say that to him now as I need his help.
“Because we are in trouble!”
“And that’s my problem because?” he cocks his head slightly, regarding me with those empty eyes.
I want to scream, but desperation pushes me forward. “You saved me before! Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Do you plan on making a habit of this?” he drawls, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or just playing with me.
I make a frustrated sound from my throat and turn towards the stranger. His eyes narrow at my hopeful expression, and before I can even ask him,
“No.” He declares in his equally cold voice that shuts me up quickly.
“They’re in here!” I hear one of the thugs say as they beat the side walls of the container.
Grasping onto the springs of desperation, I step closer to Zagan, trying to contain my tears of fear. With a muddled brain which can think of nothing but making it out alive from here, I don’t think before I grab onto one of his hands with both of mine. Even in this dire situation, I can’t help but notice how hard and callous they are. How contrasting they are from my smooth cotton palms.
His eyes snap down to where I am clutching onto him with mad desperation, and his eyes flicker with something I cannot give a name to.
“Please? What do you need? I will give you anything in my power. Please help us.” When he looks back at me, those pools of grey are filled with something so dark and challenging that I start to reconsider my offer.
“Two.” He says.
“Huh?”
“I need two things from you for the two lives I help.” He announces in a no-nonsense tone.
What did I even expect from him?
That somehow, because he dropped a kiss which could or could not be my imagination, saved me a few times and cared when I was chilly, that would change what he is?
He is a criminal whose hands are stained with questionable dealings, and he never acts without a price. A slight pang of disappointment sits heavily on my heart when he needs conditions to save me. As insane as it might sound, I thought that his uncharacteristic behaviour around me meant something.
I don’t even know him well enough to recognise what his usual behaviour might be. Yet I clung to my delusions, because they aligned with what I wanted to feel. How foolish of me to be dragged into a play like this once again.
“What?! That is-“
One glare from Zagan and Ivy slinks back into the corner with a squeak. I look back at the stranger, trying in one last attempt to see if he would help us.
“They can drag you out of here kicking and screaming, and I still wouldn’t give a fuck. So be smart and take his offer while he is being nice,” he says while he scrolls through his mobile.
“Rude git,” I grumble under my breath as I turn back towards Zagan.
If he heard what I whispered, he doesn’t let it show on his face. Steeling my spine, I try to ready myself for whatever he wants from me. But… Before I can say a word, Ivy throws her hands up.
“Take it. Take whatever deal it is.”
“All right.” I sigh.
It feels like I am signing my will off to the devil.
Zagan takes a step forward, forcing me to take one back. His eyes shine dangerously as he bends down so that our faces are aligned in front of each other. He slowly removes his cigarette from his lips and crushes it under his expensive shoes.
“Fair warning. You won’t walk away from my deal, little siren. Your picket-fenced life wouldn’t survive it.” His voice dips, laced with quiet malice.
I have to gulp down my choke as I try to find my voice.
“Okay. What’s the first one?” I breathe.
Better get this over with before the courage leaves my body, along with the draining adrenaline. What could he even possibly want from me? I mean, all I have might account for nothing in front of his vast wealth. Did he acquire a biochemistry lab, perhaps? Did he want me to work for him? Because if that’s the case-
“Kiss me.”