Page 82 of Wrecked for Love
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ELIA
Almost 11 p.m. The dash clock glowed in the dark, but I had no time to focus on anything but the road ahead. Patches of ice glittered beneath the headlights, turning the narrow, winding road into a treacherous path.
My grip on the wheel tightened, knuckles rigid. Adrenaline surged, forcing my mind to stay sharp. Fear? I didn’t feel it, though I knew I should.
The road snaked alongside the river. By day, the water shimmered in vibrant blue, but now it was an endless black void, swallowing every trace of the crescent moon’s light. No reflections, just darkness.
The drive’s monotony only made it harder to keep my thoughts in check, my mind drifting to what I was about to face.
Lucien Voss was a mirror image of his younger brother—same size, same cocky stride. Word had it he trained in his own private gym, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d had private lessons in combat. But a guy like him? His ego would trip him up. I’d read him like an open book before he even threw his first punch. I knew he’d fight dirty, so I had to be ready for anything. But no matter what, my focus was on Claire—she came first.
As I got closer to The Cove, something flickered in my rearview mirror—a pair of headlights, too close. They hadn’t been there a few miles back. A tail. I cursed under my breath, glancing at the road ahead and trying to keep calm. No sudden moves.
I pulled into the gravel lot by the abandoned restaurant. The car behind me rumbled up and parked just a few feet back, its engine cutting off with a growl. Three men stepped out, their shapes large and threatening in the darkness. I pushed the door open. The cold air hit me, but it did nothing to quell the heat in my veins.
The men advanced—familiar Voss faces, though Lucien wasn’t among them. Their hands were empty, but they shifted their jackets just enough for me to catch the glint of weapons. One of them slammed me up against the side of my car.
“Good to see you again, Lucas,” he sneered, his hands rough as the others patted me down. Boots, belt, and even inside my jacket collar. No room for slip-ups.
“All clear,” one of them yelled after a thorough search.
Satisfied, they motioned me forward and led me toward what used to be The Cove, once a high-class restaurant with grand windows overlooking the water. Now it stood empty, its windows long shattered, the wooden patio rotting and creaking beneath our steps. I remembered coming here years ago, dressed in stiff suits for a family dinner. Now, it was a ghost of what it once was—a hollow shell, cold and lifeless.
They pushed me inside. The interior was even worse. The tables were gone, leaving only scratched-up floors and walls smeared with graffiti. The air was damp, stale, and filled with memories of better days. I scanned the room, searching, hoping.
And then I saw her.
Claire.
She was held by two men, her arms pinned to her sides, but she was still fighting, struggling against them. Her eyes locked onto mine, wide and terrified.
“Elia!” Claire’s voice cracked.
I took a step toward her, only for one of the guards to stop me, shoving me back with a hard hand. “Claire…” My voice was raw, heavy. “Claire, are you okay?”
She didn’t answer as she tried to free herself. Every muscle in my body screamed to reach her, to rip her away from these men. But the guards boxed me in—an immovable wall.
“Claire! Say something!”
“I’m fine,” she finally answered. “You don’t have to do this. We’ll figure something out. Just go! Get out of here!”
Not a chance!
From the shadows, Lucien sauntered forward. He moved like he owned the place, a smug grin forming on his lips. I needed to be smart, but my heart hammered wildly, pushing me toward the impossible.
“Well, well, Elia Lucas. Welcome to my soirée.” His voice was slick with a mocking tone that dug into my skin. “I’m impressed you actually showed up. Truly. Not many would be this brave—or this reckless. But I get it. You’re in love. A man will do anything for the woman he loves.”
“Lucien!” I shouted, my voice raw with rage. “If you lay a finger on her, I swear, tonight will be your last.”
He threw his head back, laughing like I’d just told him the world’s best joke. “Oh, El. Always the tough guy. You still don’t get it, do you? You’re not calling the shots here.” His eyes gleamed in the dim light, a sadistic joy behind them.
“Come on now, fight me like a man. Didn’t you say it would be just you and me?” I stood taller, anger and adrenaline warring inside me.
“I’m not as gullible as the both of you.” Lucien’s gaze flicked from me to Claire, then back again. “You really don’t know when you’re beaten, do you?” He sighed almost theatrically, as if this was some great inconvenience. “But let’s get on with the show, shall we?”
An icy chill swept through me as I looked around—and it wasn’t the wind. The once grand stage, where bands used to play during swanky riverside dinners, had been transformed. Harsh makeshift lights now shone down on it, turning it into some kind of macabre arena—the space I’d have to fight in. No escape. No way out.
