Page 46 of Darkest Oblivion
“No time for that,” he snapped, stepping closer. “We leave now—or not at all.”
I glanced at the endless tarmac, floodlights glaring. Then I bolted.
Sneakers pounded the asphalt, legs burning, lungs screaming. Behind me, heavy footsteps thundered, closing fast. A shove sent me sprawling, skin scraping against the rough concrete.
“Why are you running?” the scarred man snarled, looming over me. “Didn’t you want to return to your family? Changing your mind now?”
I pushed myself upright, chest heaving, fists tight.
He grabbed my arms, his grip bruising, dragging me back toward the jet. I thrashed, my legs scraping the tarmac.
“I’m not going! Let go!” I screamed, panic searing through me.
He spun me, delivering two heavy slaps across my face. Pain exploded, cheeks burning, stars dancing in my vision.
“I’ve had enough of your trouble,” he growled, dragging me toward the jet’s steps. My legs scraped the sharp metal, blood seeping through my jeans.
I pushed against him, weak hands pleading. “Please... let go.”
He shoved me against the doorframe, pain radiating through my body. Then a gunshot cracked—sharp, deafening—followed by the thud of a body hitting the tarmac. I froze, chest heaving, panic flooding in.
The scarred man lay sprawled, blood pooling beneath him, eyes lifeless.
I raised my gaze—and there he was: Dmitri, a demon in the floodlights, pistol smoking, blood staining his tailored suit, icy eyes blazing with fury.
Another man grabbed me from behind, his arm locking around my waist, a cold gun barrel pressing against my temple.
“Dmitri,” he hissed, voice tight with fear, “you make a move, I’ll shoot her.”
“Let her go,” Dmitri said, commanding, a king issuing an unyielding decree.
His gun stayed steady, his gaze locked on the threat.
“No,” the bearded man spat, grip tightening, gun digging into my skin. “You killed Jim”—he jerked toward the fallen man—“I’m next. We’re only following orders.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrowed, voice cutting like steel. “Following orders? You think I’ll believe you’re sending her back? I know exactly what you planned—delivering her to the Bellantis alive. One wrong move, and you die. Cross me, and not just you—your wife, your mother, your father, your sisters... all of them die first. You understand me?”
“Like I care if they die,” the man muttered, but his voice cracked, hand trembling.
Dmitri waved—a single, imperious gesture—and a gunshot rang out. The man slumped, blood splashing across my shirt and skin, his body thudding against the tarmac.
I gasped, trembling, eyes darting to the shadows where Giovanni emerged, pistol still smoking.
His weathered face was impassive, movements swift and methodical as he dragged the two bodies aside, blood smearing the asphalt. Efficiency and ruthlessness radiated from him, chilling me to the bone.
Dmitri’s gaze locked on me, unreadable, his bloodied hands steady.
“Step down,” he said, voice calm but commanding.
I limped down the jet’s steps, pain shooting through every step.
His eyes never left me. Then, to my shock, he stepped forward and scooped me up bridal-style.
His arms were iron-strong, yet careful, holding me as if I were fragile. The scent of sandalwood and steel enveloped me, confusing my fear with a flicker of something else—something dangerous and magnetic.
I had expected a slap, a beating, maybe death for my defiance. But he carried me with precision, unwavering control. Was this mercy... or another trap?
He strode toward a waiting Rolls-Royce, its chrome gleaming under the floodlights.
