Chapter 17 – Ellie
Samantha?
I refuse to believe it. My mind refuses to let the pieces fit together. Samantha? Samantha—my friend, the one I trusted from the very beginning? The one who laughed with me, celebrated promotions with me, and shared late-night lab breakthroughs?
I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the screen in front of me.
Timofey has been meticulous, and he explains how he uncovered every trace of evidence: communication pings between Samantha and the woman who orchestrated the kidnapping, financial transfers disguised as research reimbursements, and timing that lines up with the sniper attack weeks ago.
Every piece of evidence screams betrayal, and yet my heart refuses to accept it.
I feel small. Foolish. Used. The warmth of friendship, the ease of shared jokes and late nights in the lab—all of it now feels like a cruel mask hiding something far darker. My stomach twists, and I taste bile.
Mike doesn’t speak at first. He doesn’t need to. His arms are around me, strong and steady, pressing me against him as I start to unravel. I can feel the quiet thrum of his heart through his chest, a reminder that at least he hasn’t betrayed me.
I let go of whatever composure I had left and collapse into him. My body trembles, tears soaking the fabric of his shirt. He rocks me gently, whispering my name, letting me break while he absorbs the storm.
“I…I trusted her,” I manage to choke out, voice barely a whisper against his chest. “All this time…she was—she was planning this?”
Mike tightens his grip. “Yes,” he says softly, almost brutally calm. “But you’re here. You’re safe. That’s what matters now.”
I press my face into his neck, clinging to him like a lifeline. For the first time since the attacks began, I feel the overwhelming weight of betrayal pressing down.
I pull back slightly, my eyes red and raw, and Timofey leans in, his voice gentle but firm. “Ellie…Samantha has been taken into custody for questioning.”
I stiffen. My chest tightens. “I…I need to see this,” I whisper. “I need to see for myself. I need to know it’s real.”
Mike’s hand slides into mine, firm and grounding. “You’re not going alone,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I shake my head, trying to argue. “Mike, you need to rest. I can handle it. I need to—”
“No,” he interrupts, his jaw set. “I’m coming with you. I won’t let you face this alone.”
I try, I really do, but his mind is already made up. His presence is a wall I can’t push past, and deep down, I know he’s right. I can’t do this without him.
An hour later, Timofey, Mike, and I step into the waiting vehicle. Security follows closely behind, their silent vigilance a reminder that the danger hasn’t gone anywhere. My stomach twists with dread, anticipation, and a strange pulse of anger that I can’t quite name.
When we arrive at the holding base, my heart drops. Samantha is there, handcuffed to a chair, sitting rigidly. Her face shows no shame, no fear—just calm resignation, like she’s been waiting for this moment all along.
I can feel my chest tightening. Everything inside me wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make sense of the betrayal. But Mike’s hand on my back steadies me, anchors me, reminding me that I’m not alone.
I step closer, my voice barely a whisper. “Samantha…why?”
“I’m sorry, Ellie.”
“I don’t want apologies.” I keep my voice steady. “Just tell me why.”
She tilts her head slightly, her gaze steady and unnerving. “You always thought our friendship was real,” she says smoothly. “But it wasn’t. I was planted. From the beginning.”
My stomach drops. Every memory of laughter, shared projects at the lab, trust I had given freely—it all feels poisoned.
“I…what are you talking about?” I ask, voice trembling, unable to mask the hurt.
Samantha exhales, almost bored. “The faction, they wanted you to fracture you from within. They sent me to get close to you, to learn, to manipulate. And I did exactly what they asked.”
The weight of it hits me like a physical blow. I feel tears prick at my eyes, but I clamp down on them. My fingers dig into Mike’s, seeking strength.
Mike leans down, his voice low, a quiet fury behind it. “Ellie…you were never weak. You were becoming strong. That’s exactly why they targeted you.”
Her betrayal cuts deep, but in the shadow of it, I feel a strange surge of resolve. I straighten, shoulders squared. I won’t let this break me.
“Why?” I ask, my voice steady despite the turmoil. “Why did you do this? What do they want from me?”
Samantha shrugs, almost dismissively. “I can’t say. Orders. That’s all you need to know.”
Timofey’s eyes narrow as he leans slightly forward. “I know so many methods we could try to make her talk. She thinks she’s stubborn because she hasn’t been introduced to my ways.” He cracks his fingers.
I flinch, the thought twisting my stomach. “No,” I whisper firmly. I can’t…I can’t let them hurt her. I know it’s stupid, but I can’t.
Mike’s eyes meet mine, searching for hesitation, for weakness. I shake my head. “I want to go home,” I tell him, voice low but insistent.
He studies me, jaw tight, then tilts his head slightly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I say, finally letting certainty anchor my words. “I want to go home.”
Mike exhales slowly, tension still in his shoulders but acceptance in his eyes. “Alright,” he says quietly. “We go home. We leave her here, but sooner or later, we have to handle her. We can’t let her go free.”
I nod and let him lead me outside. Timofey stays behind, but I don’t worry—he’ll respect my decision to leave Samantha alone for now.
Back at the house, we head straight to the suite. Mike’s presence beside me feels like a storm contained—powerful, unyielding, and impossible to ignore.
“You need to rest,” I tell him. “I’ll head to the library.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t leave you alone,” he says, voice low but firm.
I tilt my head, letting the words sink in. “It’s because you can’t leave me alone that I’m in this predicament,” I tell him. “Your obsession with me is why I’ve been pulled into a world that isn’t mine.”
His jaw tightens, and he counters, voice edged with something between anger and awe. “You stepped into it the moment you tried to shield me from a bullet. That’s when it started.”
Before I can respond, he grabs my arm and yanks me close, pressing his lips against mine. The kiss is sharp, demanding, claiming. My hands rise instinctively to his chest, trying to hold onto him, to ground myself, even as heat and tension ripple through every nerve.
I wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss, my tongue tangling with his as I lose myself in the familiar, intoxicating scent of him. I need him. I need the heat to burn away the fear and the guilt.
“Make me forget, Mike,” I whisper against his lips, my voice trembling with a desperate urgency. “Please.”
I know I’m being selfish. He’s still recovering, the bandages around his stomach a stark reminder of the price he paid for us. But the hunger in his eyes tells me he needs this just as much as I do. He needs to feel alive, to feel me.
He drags his lips away from mine, his breathing ragged, and pushes me onto the bed.
I fall back into the pillows, my hair splaying out as he looms over me, a dark shadow of raw, unadulterated intent.
He doesn’t wait; he’s on top of me in an instant, his weight a heavy, welcome pressure that pins me down.
His mouth finds mine again, more brutal this time, while his hands roam over my curves with a possessive ferocity.
He’s reclaiming me, inch by inch, and as his fingers hook into the hem of my dress, I know there’s no turning back.
I don’t want to. I want to be consumed by him until there is nothing left but this fire.
He yanks the dress over my head, the fabric catching briefly before he tosses it aside with a rough, impatient flick of his wrist. I’m exposed, my skin prickling under the heat of his gaze.
He doesn’t stop, his fingers moving to the front clasp of my bra.
With a sharp snap, it’s undone, and he sweeps the lace away to reveal my breasts, already aching for his touch.
His eyes drop to my panties, and he hooks his thumbs into the elastic, dragging them down my legs until I’m completely bare beneath him. The air in the room feels heavy, thick with the scent of us and the desperation of the moment.
He doesn’t wait. He leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak before he suckles deeply.
A sharp, jagged cry escapes my throat, and I arch my back, my fingers digging into his hair to hold him there.
He’s relentless, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.
“Mike,” I moan, my head thrashing against the pillow.
He ignores my plea, moving his mouth to the other breast, devouring it with a primal hunger that makes my vision blur.
His hands aren’t idle; one pins my wrist above my head while the other slides down, his palm flat against my stomach, inching lower and lower.
The tension in my lower body is a physical weight, a coil of heat that’s winding tighter with every wet, rhythmic pull of his mouth.
He continues to devour my breasts, his mouth a hot, wet vice, while his fingers work me into a frenzy down below.
He’s slicking me with my own heat, pushing one finger then two inside me, his rhythm rough and demanding.
The friction of his hand against my clit, combined with the pull of his lips, is too much to bear.
“Mike, please. Now. I need you now,” I gasp, my voice breaking with a desperate, raw need.
He groans, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He reaches down to unhook his pants, his movements frantic.
I see him start to reach toward the bedside table for a condom, but I can’t wait another second.
I don’t want anything between us—no barriers, no delays.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his lower back, and pull him toward me with everything I have.
“Fuck,” he rasps, the word a ragged exhale of defeated willpower.
He gives in to the gravity of our shared hunger and slides into me.
The sensation is overwhelming. He’s thick and searing as he fills me, stretching me to the limit.
I cry out into the crook of his neck, my fingers clawing at his back as he settles deep within me.
For a moment, we both freeze, eyes locked, lungs burning as we adjust to the sheer intensity of being one.
Then, he begins to move, his hips hitting mine with a heavy, rhythmic thud that echoes the frantic beat of my heart. There’s no more talking, no more hesitation—just the animalistic drive to lose ourselves in each other until the world outside this bed ceases to exist.
The friction between our bodies is a fever, a blur of heat and skin that drowns out the rest of the world.
Mike pounds into me with a raw, desperate power, his breath coming in ragged, uneven hitches against my ear.
Every thrust is deep and deliberate, hitting my center with a force that makes my vision go white.
“Mike,” I gasp, my fingers digging into the muscle of his back, my legs tightening around his waist. “I’m close…I’m coming.”
“Wait for me, Solntse,” he growls, his voice a dark, vibrating command. “Don’t go yet. Stay with me.”
I moan, a broken, needy sound that catches in my throat.
I try to hold back, try to tether myself to the edge, but he makes it impossible.
He shifts his weight, his pace becoming faster, more punishing.
He’s relentless, his hips slamming into mine with a primal urgency that demands everything I have.
We’re a tangled mess of sweat and desperation. I can feel the tension winding up inside him, the way his muscles are coiled like a spring about to snap. He pounds into me for another few minutes, pushing me higher and higher until I’m sobbing his name into the pillow.
Finally, he tilts his head back, his jaw tight as he delivers a series of deep, soul-shattering thrusts.
“Come now, baby,” he rasps, his voice breaking. “Now!”
The command shatters the last of my restraint.
My orgasm hits like a tidal wave, a violent explosion of pleasure that arches my back off the mattress.
I scream as the waves pulse through me, and a second later, I feel him follow.
He lets out a guttural, animalistic roar as he spills deep inside me, his body shuddering with the force of his own release.
We crash together, our heartbeats thundering against each other’s chests as we slowly sink back into the bed, tangled, exhausted, and finally, for this moment, at peace.
After we catch our breath, tangled and warm in the aftermath, I shift slightly, turning to Mike as he gathers me into his arms. His touch is steady, grounding, like nothing in the world could touch us here.
“I want training,” I say. “Not protection. Not confinement. Training.” My words land deliberately. “If I’m going to survive this world, I won’t do it as a bystander.”
Mike doesn’t argue. He only nods, eyes dark with something fierce, and says, “Okay. We start tonight.”
I’m about to respond when his phone buzzes sharply on the nightstand. He glances at it, and the line of his jaw tightens.
I frown. “What is it?”
He swipes the screen and reads quickly. “Timofey just texted…Samantha confessed a name.”
My stomach tightens. “Who?”
He looks up, meeting my eyes with a gravity that makes my blood run cold. “Anya.”