Page 80 of Chain Me
“Touch her again and I’ll keep the arm,” he promised as casually as most men might comment on the weather. “And the next time I choose to hunt you down to whatever corner of the world you’ve run to, you’ll owe me more than just a favor.”
“Fair enough.” Dmitri met the cold expression directed his way with a surprisingly chilling one of his own. “But now, down to business.” He clapped his hands, all smiles once again. “When do we leave? Dare I request we take my jet? It’s climate controlled—”
“Is there a point you’re trying to make?” Dublin countered.
Dmitri blinked. “Why yes, I suppose I did forget to mention that particular detail. Those friends of yours… Well, they’ve decided to launch an attack here, on this very estate you think no one else knows about. Right…now.”
As if to accent his words, a sudden barrage of noise resonated in the distance. Shouting?
“Go get dressed.” Dublin shoved me toward the stairs and I didn’t hesitate.
Once in my room, I snatched a dress at random from the closet and pulled it on while staggering down the stairs. I had to have been gone less than a minute, yet Dublin was already dressed, appearing by my side as if from thin air.
“Stay close.” He took my arm, tethering me to his side as two armed men came from the shadows to flank our position. His calm demeanor warned me that they worked for him.
Had they been here all this time, lurking out of sight?
“I see you decided to play him at his own game,” Dmitri remarked. He grinned, apparently entertained by the air of urgency. “Using your own human pawns. Certainly creative if not necessarily prudent. May I suggest again that we take my jet—”
Dublin pulled me forward, and within seconds, we were exiting from the front door. I didn’t know what to expect as I took in the scenery waiting beyond. Weak daylight filtered down through storm clouds, adding a silvery sheen to the breathtaking landscape—but despite Dmitri’s warning, there was no one else in sight.
Apart from Dublin’s driver standing at the ready.
Not particularly hurried, Dublin guided me into the waiting car and the driver sped off. Every now and again, however, he spared a wary glance at the figure seated beside him.
Somehow, Dmitri had insinuated himself into the passenger’s seat. Occasionally, he decided to provide casual commentary. “Again, I must insist we take my jet.”
Dublin seemed murderously determined to ignore him, glaring from the window instead. Eventually, we reached a remote area where the hills gave way to grassy lowlands and desolate fields. In the distance, I made out the shape of a building on the horizon. An airport hangar?
No sooner did the thought cross my mind before—
Light. Noise. Bang!
A tremor rattled the earth. I screamed as the driver swerved severely to stay on the road. Dublin flung his arm over my hip, pinning me in place until the motion subsided. Just as the driver righted himself, black clouds began to billow over the horizon. Smoke. Soon after, tendrils of orange flame licked at the sky as if alive.
“Well.” Dmitri delicately cleared his throat. “I suppose it’s a welcome coincidence that I hadmyprivate jet moved to a lesser known runway not too far from here. Isn’t it?”
Bloody Hell
Dmitri’s climate-controlled private jet proved to be surprisingly…cheerful. In a contrast to Dublin’s monochromatic color scheme, tanned leather created a cozy backdrop, punctuated by hints of elegance. Like the grinning, glassy-eyed flight attendant already on board, waiting to serve crystal flutes of champagne.
Ignoring her, Dublin marshaled me into a recliner-style seat by a window and claimed the one beside me, effectively serving as a barrier between me and his “old friend.”
Dmitri didn’t seem to mind. He unfurled himself into a seat near the back of the cabin, grinning like a well-fed cat. Something told me that turning our back to him at all was a risky endeavor.
But Dublin consumed my sole focus, and I couldn’t spare an ounce of concern for anything else. Tension radiated from him in waves. I suspected little was due to Dmitri’s presence. No…
My heart raced as I brushed my hand along my front, watching the fingers settle against my stomach. Panic danced on the edges of my conscience, urging me to deny. Ignore. Pretend. Facing the truth of my “tumor” terrified me more than anything in the world.
More than Dublin.
More than Raphael.
The mere possibility shattered my safe, cautious mind state. I’d been groomed to spend most of my life alone, sans even human children.
But now?
The thought of another reality terrified me. Almost as much as the threats building against it.
