Page 60 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“Because of business,” he says, his gaze thoughtful. “Apart from me, you are in no less danger. Perhaps more. Some would be emboldened to harm you in my absence.”
“Oh.” I lick my lips. Does the answer sting? Maybe, but I swallow hard to disguise it.
“And…” He tilts my fingers for his inspection and settles on the one coincidentally meant to bear a specific type of ring. “I could enjoy your presence,” he adds tonelessly, as if remarking on the weather. “Your scent. Logistics aside, I could enjoy knowing that no other man could even look at you without my consent. Or that with one glance, one word, one touch, I could have you wet and ready for me.”
He withdraws slowly, dragging his fingers along my flesh in retreat. Then he turns his attention to the window on his end and strokes the collar of his suit. “I will let you decide which answer to accept.”
Minutes later, the plane descends, and Maxim recaptures my hand, smoothing his thumb along the back of it. “We’re landing,” he explains as the cabin shudders around us.
It’s nightfall when we finally touch down outside of Fair Haven, and it’s like waking up from a dream for a grim, colorless reality. The chill hits like a slap as we exit the plane for the night air. A black car waits nearby, helmed by an unfamiliar driver. Unsurprising, since Lucius stayed behind with the kids, ensuring their protection.
“Come.” Maxim draws me to his side, and we begin our descent toward the tarmac.
“Good evening, sir,” the driver greets as we approach. “The arrangements have been made for—”
“Fuck!” Maxim reacts first before I even process the events unfurling in front of me. The driver stopped talking, cut off mid-sentence. Why? I look at him, trying to discern a reason but nothing makes sense.
He’s falling. Red liquid goes flying as his body slumps against the side of the car, but something is wrong with him. His head? It doesn’t look right…
Because it’s missing.
“Get down!” Maxim shoves me to the ground at the base of the stairs. His weight crushes me down, shielding me entirely.
But I can still hear. Footsteps. They approach in a barrage, betraying more than one person. Judging from the tension radiating through Maxim’s body, they aren’t friends of his.
“Not so fast, little Maxi,” someone calls amid the echoing sounds. “I wouldn’t be so hasty. Don’t even think about reaching for your gun or calling for backup. Now stand, the both of you.”
Maxim stiffens. Then all at once, the pressure pinning me down recedes, and he grabs my shoulder, urging me to my feet. I blink to adjust to the darkness. Only a few spotlights illuminate this section of the tarmac.
But we aren’t alone.
At least ten men advance from the shadows to converge on our position. They’re bulky, but even as panic sends my thoughts scattering, my time with Maxim made an impact. Several details stick out. For one, they don’t move in crisp unison like Maxim’s trained men do. They’re disjointed. Sloppy. Some wear polished suits, but others—like the man who seems to be leading them all—wear a T-shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket. But all are armed, with weapons trained on us.
“Danil,” Maxim says. “What a pity. I always thought you were the smartest of your inbred branch of the family tree, but I was wrong. Obviously, you have a death wish to approach me like this.”
“A death wish?” A balding man, presumably Danil, wearing the leather jacket, chuckles, waving his gun casually through the air. His accent reminds me of Sevastyn’s, cold and crisp like the hiss of a snake. “Maybe I am just not as mischievous as Anatoli? I don’t like to make my prey sweat before I make my move. I prefer to simply—” He aims his weapon at the sky and fires. “Move.”
Maxim’s grip on me tightens, and he all but shoves me behind him. “What do you want?”
“Don’t play dumb, boy,” Danil warns with another hearty chuckle. “Anatoli requests your presence, but as for me… I’ll take the girl.”
“Take?” Maxim cocks his head as a low laugh resonates in his chest. “Is that so?”
“Usually, I wouldn’t go after such petty bait,” Danil adds with an apologetic sigh. “But, you see, Bruno here?” He reaches behind him and grabs the ear of a thinner, younger-looking man with long blond hair, dragging him to the front. “The fucker screwed up and got himself disowned. Botched robbery.” He tugs on the man’s ear, forcing him to kneel. “He has prostrated himself before Anatoli to no avail. Perhaps this little bounty will get him back into the fold? As a bonus, I’ll let him play with the girl beforehand, so he can finally learn what it’s like to fuck a woman outside of his little video games. Yes?Wait—” Suddenly, he aims his weapon over Maxim, his eyes narrowed. “Not so fast, Maxi. I’ve heard of your temper, but even you know when a man is outnumbered, yes?”
The men around him adjust their weapons as well, and Maxim’s grip on my arm turns bruising.
“Now,” Danil says, shrugging. “I suggest we do this the easy way. You will come with us for your spanking, Maxi.” He nods toward an approaching black van. “And the girl will go with Bruno.”
“Touch her, and you’ll be dead before your withered cock can even enjoy the thrill,” Maxim says.
Danil smiles. “If you wanted me dead, I would be dead, boy. But no hard feelings, eh? This is nothing more than the love of a father, helping to right his son’s pathetic mistake. Though you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” The corner of his mouth curls in disgust as his gaze rakes over Maxim, settling over his waist. “I’ve heard the old man likes to castrate little whelps like you. Render you sterile so that you can’t spread your seed without his say-so—”
“I suggest you watch yourself, Danil.” Maxim stands rigid, his fingers flexing at his side. “Between the two of us, only one may experience a castration firsthand.”
“Hmph. I think you and I will catch up first before I tend to your little friend.ThenI’ll give you to the old man,” Danil taunts, his eyes gleaming. He gestures to the men behind him with a wave. “Come on, boys! Let’s go—”
“I’m afraidnot.” The door to the back seat of Maxim’s car opens, and a lanky figure gracefully climbs out. Like a dancer, he unfurls his limbs, stretching them one by one as if oblivious to the violence surrounding him. An oversized black sweater adds artificial bulk to his slender frame, and his dark curls spill from a knitted hat lazily perched on his head.
