Page 159 of The Darkness is Calling

I look at him, still displeased. “Ten seconds.”

He exhales like a frustrated bull, furious that I’m forcing him to accept the almost impossible situation.

“I’m sure they’ll cover us until we reach the cars if you insist on not waiting.”

“I insist,” I add, just as harshly.

Everyone around me feels the coldness of my voice. Because any trace of warmth inside me is directed toward the fragile being in my arms, whom I hold as gently as I can, but also tightly enough to shield her from any other danger.

I rush toward the exit, focused mostly on her, but also on everything around me, even though they make sure we aren’t hit by the bullets still whistling through the air.

I pull her closer, her face pressing against my throat, and keep walking without stopping. In all this chaos, where Death swishes her black dress among the bodies she leaves breathless, my words of endearment never leave the angel I carry toward somewhere quieter.

“I’m here, my soul. I will never allow you to be hurt again. Forgive me. You should never have been here.”

We reach the car one of my men brings right in front for us, and after he gets out, Yar gets behind the wheel, Sasha beside him, while I get in the back with Ekaterina in my arms.

I look at Dima when he closes my door on my side. I don’t like leaving him behind, but through the window I see Cormac appear beside him at once, and I know the man provided by the Irish is as good as my right hand. The Irish assured me of that from the day I was told they had already infiltrated someone in Oliver’ group, who would help me when things spiraled out of control.

I knew it would come to this, and that was exactly the plan: to get caught and placed in front of the man who betrayed me, hoping to find out more about our new enemies.

I had a suspicion about who was feeding information to the Prescott family, but I had no proof. And time was not on my side, because Ekaterina no longer had the patience to stay hidden in an apartment I hadn’t known Serioja had discovered. It seems he followed me on one of the days when I wasn’t hiding anymore either, and managed to hack the entrance.

After the wedding, I was forced to release that rat Oliver, just enough to see who he would turn to afterward, and then to expose myself so I could be captured.

I suspected that, aside from a few superficial wounds, nothing else would happen to me, because I already had too many people among the mercenaries hired by Oliver Prescott and his father.

Two idiots.

They behaved like novices who were one step away from announcing on the news that they were hiring people for professional killing. Every mercenary knew how to get under their umbrella, and getting someone inside their teams was almost laughably easy.

They paid extremely well, and that was this family’s greatest advantage. Using their money and the political power they had recently gained, they had bought themselves an army designed to take down any mafia organization.

Or at least, that’s how it seems at first.

They tried it with us.

We proved they don’t stand a chance.

The problem is that I still don’t know who the fuck is the man behind all of it. Because something tells me Oliver is only a puppet controlled by someone else.

After we escape the old manor – one of the almost abandoned estates belonging to the Prescott family – the car disappears along England’s green roads. According to my brothers, we’re almost an hour and a half from London, somewhere up North. Enough time for me to feel the woman of my heart sink into a fragile sleep, one scattered with sobs and occasional small spasms, as if she’s dreaming of things that frighten her.

It’s only my fault, and that thought tears through me like nothing else ever has.

When Cormac told me Oliver had found my secret place and had brought Ekaterina at the manor, I asked him to intervene at once and stop the whole charade. But he tried to convince me that nothing would happen to her and that he would personally step in if anyone got close to her.

Of course, he didn’t manage to change my mind. I was sure this whole experience would be traumatic for her, and she would suffer simply by being there.

But the man had orders from his own boss too, to carry on with the plan.

He knew about the Russian roulette and had already told me he’d replaced the bullet. The others’ weapons had been secretly emptied of real ammunition too, just like Serioja’s, who kept waving his guns so confidently in front of me.

I knew that, but I couldn’t tell Katya, otherwise the whole plan would have been destroyed far too early. A plan I didn’t want to continue anyway, even though I was supposed to keep buying time and try to get more details about their mysterious leader. I didn’t care anymore. I only wanted to get her out of there as fast as possible.

Just like now, when all I want is to take her home, this time somewhere I’ve never been before either, another safe house Yar handled.

I don’t let go of her. I kiss the crown of her head and her forehead slowly, caressing her nonstop, in a silence that begins from inside my mind.