♡ FUCKING TRACKER ♡
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♡ MARIAN ♡
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"What?" Boris asked.
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My first instinct wasn’t to answer, it was to run. I bolted toward the left side of the building, which sat at the edge of the block, overlooking the water.
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I wasn't stupid enough to engage in an endless chase with a man who was twice my size and ten times my strength. My goal was to find a nook, a cranny, or some narrow crevice that his massive frame wouldn't fit into, somewhere he wouldn't even think to look.
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The duffel bag was becoming a liability. It caught on the siding of the house, jerking me back and slowing me down. With a heavy heart, I unzipped it, grabbed the handgun and the small pocket knife, and ditched the rest.
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The machete and the heavy gear hit the grass with a dull thud. I felt lighter.
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Then, I saw it.
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There was a gap in the foundation of the house, a hole in the wall just large enough for someone of my build to squeez through. It was perfect. There was no way Boris would think I’d be bold enough to hide inside his house.
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I dropped to my knees, ignored the dirt staining my leggings, and squeezed myself through the opening. Just as I successfully shimmied to the other side, Boris’s voice boomed from the yard.
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"Marian, There’s nowhere left to run."
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Jokes on him, I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs.
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I crouched low, tiptoeing through the house until I found a small trapdoor leading up. It let me out into a back hallway near a door that had been left wide open. I slipped inside without a second thought, locking it quietly behind me.
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I paused, frowning. The house was strange. It didn't have the typical furniture of a home, there were no sofas. Instead, it looked like a high-tech satellite office. I didn't have time to analyze the floor plan, though. I just needed to go up.
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I crept up the stairs, my hand gripping the handgun so hard my knuckles were white. I reached the landing and walked into a large, sun-drenched room, only to stop dead in my tracks.
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The room wasn't empty.
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Damien was sitting at the head of a long table, looking straight at me. His expression was a blend of judgment and pure amusement. Martini was there too, looking at me with the disappointed eyes of a father who had just caught his daughter doing the one thing he’d specifically forbidden.
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"Marian?" Martini called out, his voice heavy with a sigh.
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I scanned the room wildly. Boris was probably still outside looking for me in the bushes, while I had just hand-delivered myself to their Don. Damien didn't move. He just leaned back and gave me a mocking little wave.
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That son of a bitch.
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He’d probably been tracking me the whole time.
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I looked behind me, but the hallway was a dead end. My eyes darted to the large glass sliding doors that led to a balcony overlooking the sea.
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Think, Marian. Think.
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I couldn't go back down the stairs, and I definitely couldn't fight my way past the most dangerous men in the city. I did the only thing that felt reasonable. I bolted for the balcony.
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"If anybody comes near me, I'll jump." I threatened, scrambling over the railing until I was perched on the edge of the ledge.
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Nobody moved. They all just stood there, wearing various versions of an 'Are you actually crazy?' look. When Martini began walking toward me, Damien raised a hand to stop him. He stood up slowly, casually strolling toward the balcony, taking his sweet, sweet time.
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He reached the glass doors and slid them shut, locking them from the inside. Now, it was just me and him with a railing between us. I couldn't see the men inside anymore, I could only see my own pathetic reflection against the glass, and the darkening bruise on my jaw that I’d given myself for nothing.
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Martini moved suddenly behind the glass, and I flinched, my pulse spiking. In my utter stupidity, I forgot I was standing on a ledge.
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My foot slipped.
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I shrieked, grabbing onto the railing with both hands, my legs dangling in the empty air.
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This was the absolute worst-case scenario. I had zero upper body strength. None. I was basically a human pendulum.
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"If you come any closer, I'll jump." I yelled at Damien, though I was currently fighting with everything I had not to fall.
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Damien just chuckled. He didn't look worried. He didn't even look interested. He just stood there, hands tucked loosely into his suit pockets, watching me struggle.
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"Then do it," he said simply. He stared at me as if he were waiting for a boring movie to reach the climax. "You lose all credibility if you don't follow through, Marian."
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A ghost of a smile flickered on his ridiculously handsome face. I groaned, my arms muscles screaming as I tried to pull myself up.
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"You devil," I wheezed, my body aching from the strain.
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He maade no move to reach for me. He just began undoing his cuffs, looking perfectly relaxed. "I’ll fish your body out of the surf myself," he promised. "I'll even give you a proper burial."
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"The fuck you will. I’ll be the one to bury you." I yelled, though I was losing my breath.
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"Please," I pleaded, the bravado finally breaking as my fingers began to slide off the metal ledge. My palms were sweating profusely, making my grip even worse. "Please, help me."
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"I thought you wanted to die?" Damien asked smoothly. He leaned back against the glass, looking entirely unbothered by the tears streaming down my face.
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"Not like this." I confessed, a sob breaking through.
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"Please help me, you psychopath."
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He chuckled again, but he didn't move an inch. He just watched.
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Finally, the lack of exercise and gravity won. My fingers gave out. I felt the sickening drop in my stomach as I slipped off the ledge toward the briny water below.
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I made sure to scream every profanity I knew at him the entire way down. As I hit the water and fought to stay afloat, gasping against the shock of the cold, I could hear his voice drifting down from the balcony, calm, authoritative, and utterly in control.
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"Go get her out of the water before she drowns."
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Fucking hell.
and then Add to home screen.