Page 65 of Never Distract a Biker

“Scarlett,” I murmur, my voice low. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be safe with me.”

She looks up at me, her eyes wide with curiosity and something softer—trust.

The moment stretches, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. My doubts remain, but my resolve hardens. I will protect her. Whatever the truth, Scarlett and our children are mine to shield.

I kiss her forehead, a silent vow of protection and determination. The storm inside me doesn’t dissipate, but it quiets, leaving room for a single, unshakable promise: I will find the truth.

30

Scarlett

Laughter bubbles up from my throat as Yelena nudges me with her elbow, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "You should have seen the look on his face, Scarlett! Priceless!" We maneuver through the mall, dodging a sea of shoppers while our shopping bags rustle against our sides.

"Only you could get away with that," I chuckle, shaking my head at her latest antic. The memory of Viktor's sister talking circles around some pompous store manager is still fresh in my mind. It's moments like these when I forget the dark tendrils of the mafia world that bind us together.

"Hey, it's all about who you know, right?" She winks, and we share another laugh, the sound echoing off the glossy shopfronts.

A sense of ease washes over me as I bask in the normalcy of this rare, precious moment. I glance at Yelena, grateful for the sisterly bond we've formed despite the madness that is our reality.

"Yelena, I'll be right back, okay? Need to use the restroom." I gesture towards the sign ahead of us.

"Sure thing, Scar. I'll check out those boots we saw earlier. They will sure match my new Birkin bag." Her grin is infectious, and I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Meet you there?" I ask, already heading toward the ladies' room.

"Deal. Don't take forever admiring yourself in that new scarf!" she calls after me, laughter lacing her voice.

"Wouldn't dream of it!" I throw the words over my shoulder and push through the restroom door, the cool air a welcome relief from the mall's chatter and clatter.

For a moment, I just stand there, enjoying the solitude. It's nice to step away from the constant vigilance, even if it's just for a minute or two. My grey eyes catch sight of a mother guiding her little girl to the stall, and my heart aches with a sudden yearning. I push it away, focusing instead on the here and now.

I make my way to the sink, intending to splash some water on my face, and rejoin Yelena quickly. But for now, I savor the quiet, relishing the feeling of being Scarlett—no worries, noschemes, no shadows lurking behind me. Just a girl in a mall, living a slice of an ordinary life.

The door swings shut behind me with a soft click as mother and child leave. I take care of business and move to the sink, my steps slow, deliberate. Porcelain gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights, and I pause, looking at my reflection, lost in thought. Viktor. His name alone sends a shiver down my spine, laced with concern. He doesn't talk much about his life or his business. But whispers cling to him like shadows, of danger that trail his every step. I hope he is safe. Despite everything, despite the iron curtain he draws around his heart, I find myself caring far more than I should.

"Be okay," I murmur, a silent plea to a man who swims in treacherous waters—a billionaire mafia lord whose world I've stumbled into. My fingers graze the edge of the sink, gripping the cool surface. A bead of water trails down, drawing a line across the porcelain. Just like our lives—intersecting paths marked by a single, fleeting touch.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten up, determined to shake off the unsettling feeling. I have to get back to Yelena and the semblance of normalcy we've woven around ourselves today—no matter how temporary it might be.

A deafening crash shatters the silence, echoing off the tiled walls. I whip around, heart catapulting into my throat. The entrance—where escape should be just a few strides away—is now a dark canvas painted with menacing shapes. Three, no, four figures. They block the light and the way out.

Adrenaline floods my system, a hot current that turns muscles into coiled springs. My mind screams danger; every cell in my body prepares to react. Breathe in, breathe out. My hand searches for something, anything, to use as a weapon. But there's only the slick surface of the sink and the empty echo of my quickened breaths.

"Scarlett Wood?" One of them steps forward. His voice is definitely male, even though they are all dressed as ladies. They know me. This isn't random. It's personal.

I don't answer. Words are weapons I can't afford to waste. Instead, I inch backward, eyes darting for an opening, a weakness in their stance. There's none. These figures move with purpose, with training. They're a wall—one I can't hope to break through alone.

"Stay back," I warn, the fierceness in my voice betraying no hint of the ice clutching my spine. Thoughts of Viktor, of his world of shadows and whispered threats, crystallize into a sharp point of determination. If they think I'm easy prey, they have another thing coming. I am Scarlett Wood, and I will not go down without a fight.

My hand snaps to the paper towel dispenser, ripping off a heavy steel bar. It's not much, but it's something. The closest figure lunges, and I swing with all the force my body can muster. Metal clangs against bone—a harsh, grating sound—and he stumbles back, cursing.

"Get the fucking bitch!" someone barks, and then they're on me.

I kick, punch, elbow—anything to keep them away. My heart is a drumbeat in my chest, each thud echoing the single, overpowering thought: protect the baby. My baby. Viktor's child.

"Damn it, she's like a wildcat," one gasps as my foot connects with his shin. Pain radiates up my leg, but it's nothing compared to the fire blazing inside me. I am fierce; I am fury; I am mother.

But there are too many. Arms like iron bands wrap around mine, dragging them behind my back. I twist, trying to break free, but another set of hands grips my hair, yanking my head back. Panic claws at my throat.

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