CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALEXANDRA JONES
My eyes pry open reluctantly, heavy with the leftovers of sleep. A chill wind bites at my skin, causing goosebumps to rise in protest against the frigid air. Slowly, consciousness floods my senses, revealing the stark reality of my predicament. I find myself lying on my back, limbs bound tightly to the cold, unyielding surface of the train tracks. Panic surges through me, a primal instinct clawing at the edges of my realisation. The metal beneath me feels like ice against my skin, sending shivers coursing through my body.
With a racing heart, I struggle against the ropes, each futile attempt amplifying the terror that threatens to consume me. The world around me is a desolate wasteland, devoid of life and warmth. Tall grasses sway ominously in the breeze, their whispers a haunting soundtrack to my nightmare.
I strain against the restraints, desperate to scream for help, but my lips are sealed tightly shut, leaving me silent. I scan my surroundings, searching desperately for any sign of hope. And then, like a dark omen emerging from the shadows, a figure materializes in the distance, steadily making their way towards me.
It’s Luca.
My heart lurches in my chest as he crouches down beside me, his touch gentle yet suffocating. His thumb brushes against my cheek, a cruel mockery of tenderness.
“Good morning, princess,” he murmurs with a twisted smile. “Rise and shine.”
Tears stream down my face, silent witnesses to the horror unfolding before me. Luca’s words cut through the air like a knife, chilling me to the bone.
“Oh, don’t cry,” he taunts, shaking his head in mock sympathy. “Save your tears for when the train comes, because Ares still hasn’t come.” He looks down at the watch wrapped around his wrist.
“Boss, he’s here.”
“Oh, now he has!” He jumps up from his feet, and I turn my head-there he is, walking with two duffle bags- he looks as if he hasn’t slept for days, he looks so rough and tired. My heart breaks for him, I try to find a way out of the ropes. But I couldn’t.
Luca’s mocking tone cuts through the tense atmosphere like a knife, his words dripping with venomous amusement. “Ares, you finally made it,” he sneers.
Ares’ voice is a low growl as he demands, “where the fuck is my wife?”
But Luca remains unfazed, his smirk widening as he feigns ignorance. “Did you bring the fifteen million or?”
In frustration, Ares hurls the duffle bags to the ground, his eyes blazing with fury. “Where is my wife, Luca?” He repeats, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
I strain against the ropes, my efforts futile as I try to make as much noise as possible, desperate to catch Ares’ attention.
But nothing works.
And then, with ache beginning to grow inside my heart- my eyes widen in horror as one of Luca’s men raises a gun, poised to strike at Ares with deadly intent from behind him. He can’t see! Ares cannot see him! Tears spill freely from my eyes as I watch helplessly, my voice muffled by the tape sealing my lips shut. With every fibre of my being, I scream into the stifling silence, my desperation driving me to break free from the suffocating confines of my captivity.
And then, by some miracle, the tape begins to peel away, the adhesive finally giving way under the force of my screams. “Ares!”
He finally turns to face me but before I can even process his reaction, before I can see the expression on his face, the deafening sound of a gunshot shatters the air, in that moment, time seems to stand still.
I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching in my throat as I turn away, unable to face the possibility of witnessing Ares’s death. My husband’s death.
The tears that had been flowing freely from my eyes now seem endless, a torrent of anguish and despair that threatens to consume me. The world around me fades into insignificance as I grapple with the devastating realisation that the love of my life may be gone forever.
For what kind of life could I possibly live without Ares by my side? Without the love of my life?
They say love hurts, that love is dangerous—and in this moment, I understand the truth of those words with a painful clarity.
Love has torn me apart, leaving me shattered and broken in its wake. It has abused me physically and mentally.
Love is the enemy.
A faint scent of familiar cologne fills the air, mingling with the rush of relief flooding through me. I feel the ropes around my wrists loosen, as if by some miracle, and my heart skips a beat as I sense someone hovering over me.
My eyes open.
And there he is, his face hovering inches above mine, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath away. My eyes widen in shock as the reality of his presence washes over me, a wave of disbelief crashing against the shores of my consciousness.
“You’re alive,” I whisper, the words barely escaping my lips as the weight of my beating heart threatens to overwhelm me.
A small smirk plays at the corners of his lips as he leans closer, his voice low and filled with an unshakeable confidence. “No one can kill me, butterfly,” he murmurs, his words a whispered promise that sends shivers down my spine. He undoes my wrists. With trembling fingers, I reach out to touch his face, reassuring myself that he is indeed real and alive.
Suddenly, the train is close by, we both turn as if deer’s caught in headlights. The distant rumble of the approaching train grows louder, time seems to slow to a crawl. A sense of urgency pulses through the air, palpable and suffocating, as Ares’ hands continue their frantic work, desperately trying to untie the rope binding my foot. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the deafening silence that surrounds us.
Panic claws at the edges of my mind as I watch the tracks ahead, the blinding headlights of the oncoming train looming ever closer.
Ares’ fingers fumble with the knot, his movements hindered by the relentless ticking of the clock counting down to our doom. Sweat beads on his brow, I begin to help with my other foot.
The train is so near, “go!” I scream at him, knowing I wouldn’t make it.
He ignores and continues to help me.
The train releases a loud horn, “Ares go now!”
“No!” He shouts back at me.
With the train’s deafening horn blaring in the background, I look up at Ares, my heart breaking at the sight of his unwavering determination to help me. “Ares, please,” I beg, tears streaming down my face. “You have to go, or we’ll both be killed.”
He shook his head.
“I won’t leave you,” he said, his voice choked with emotion. “I can’t lose you.”
The seconds ticked away, and the train drew nearer, it is monstrous presence casting a dark shadow over us. I knew that if Ares didn’t leave now, we both face a tragic end.
And no one likes a tragic ending.
Except for Shakespeare.