his dark obsession

you pregnant? No im not!

A huge cloud of smoke darkens the sky behind me, casting an eerie shadow over the street. Debris litters the ground, and people pour out of surrounding buildings, their faces etched with shock and worry. I press hard on the gas, the engine roaring as I race away from the explosion. A few blocks away, I sneak a glance at Vladimir. He's leaned back in his seat, wearing a shit-eating grin that makes my blood boil.

"You fucking left me out," I seethe, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. "After everything we've been through, you deny me the pleasure of taking those lives with you?"

Vladimir shrugs nonchalantly, his voice calm and collected. "The situation inside changed, and I adapted. I didn't leave you out, my love. I made a call in the moment to maximize the chaos."

I scoff, my anger rising. "Seems like the situation always changes to your will, soul snatcher."

Vladimir's face darkens, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "Don't push me, Angelmarie. You've yet to experience the full extent of my wrath."

I swallow hard, but my anger won't subside. "You asshole," I pant, my body trembling with rage and something else—excitement. "How many people did you just kill without me?"

Vladimir's eyes flash with amusement. "I'm not really sure. But I promise you, their deaths were not wasted."

I grit my teeth, my foot pressing harder on the gas. "I want blood, Vladimir. I want to watch them suffer and die by my hand."

He chuckles, a low and dangerous sound. "And you will, my queen. But for now, we have other matters to attend to."

I blow through three more lights, considering pulling over and shoving his ass out of the car. But I know that won't solve anything. I need to confront him, to make him understand that I won't be left out again.

"Take the next left," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

I miss the turn, my mind racing with thoughts of violence and revenge. Vladimir repeats my name, trying to get my attention, but I'm lost in my own head, planning all the ways I could kill him and make it look like an accident.

"Angelmarie," he growls, his voice like thunder. "Take the next left. NOW."

I submit to his will, taking the turn and driving down the road for a mile or so before he instructs me to take another right. We pull into a parking lot, and he jerks his chin toward a dark, boarded-up building. "Park in front of there."

I do as he says, my heart pounding in my chest. He twists the keys out of the ignition, and I'm filled with the overwhelming need to vomit. I yank on the door handle and slide out of the seat, my knees buckling as I heave behind a tree.

Vladimir bellows my name, but I don't hear him. I'm too focused on expelling the contents of my stomach, my body wracked with spasms. When I finally manage to stop, I feel the ground thundering beneath my feet. Vladimir's iron grip wraps around my chest, and he drags me backward, my heels digging into the asphalt.

"Let me go, you Russian son of a bitch!" I wail, flailing and kicking, but it's no use. He's too strong, and I'm too weak from vomiting.

He drags me all the way back to the car and pushes me up against the door, caging me in with his body. "Do you want to tell me you're pregnant with my baby, or do you prefer to keep being a hard ass and deny it?" he barks, his voice like a whip.

I glare up at him, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "You asshole. I'm not pregnant, Vladimir. I could just have the flu."

His eyes flash with anger, and he slaps his hand around my throat, bringing me nose to nose with him. "Listen to me, Angelmarie. I will say this one time only: Do not ever try a cheap shot like that again. Now, answer me truthfully. Are. You. Pregnant. With. Our. Baby?"

Tears well up in my eyes as he keeps his hand firmly against my throat. "When was your last period?" he asks, his voice softer but no less intense.

I glare up at him, not answering. He growls, his eyes searching mine. "I will find out anyway, so you might as well tell me the truth."

I take a deep breath, licking my dry lips. "It's none of your business when it was, but I'm not pregnant."

Vladimir's eyes soften, and he pushes his body into me, crushing me against the car. "I will die before letting you or our child get hurt, Angelmarie. On my life, in this world and the next, you and our child will always be protected."

I shake my head, tears spilling over. "You... you egotistical, cocky, Russian son of a bitch."

He smiles, his thumb brushing away my tears. "And you love me anyway, Angelmarie. And I love you. Now, say it. Say you'll stand by my side and together, we'll rule this city."

Angelmarie....

My thoughts are a jumbled mess, a chaotic symphony of fear, excitement, and love. The kiss we just shared has left my body throbbing with need, and my mind is a whirlwind of broken thoughts. Am I pregnant? The idea both terrifies and excites me. I'm newly married to this crazy New York king, and we're on the brink of war with those who dare to challenge us. My head spins with the magnitude of it all, and I find myself tongue-tied, unable to form the words he so desperately wants to hear.

Thankfully, the jarring ring of his phone cuts through the tension, saving me from my internal turmoil. Vladimir tries to ignore it, his gaze still burning into me, demanding an answer. But the phone persists, its insistent ringing a stark contrast to the heavy silence between us.

"You should probably answer that," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He lets it ring a few more times, his eyes never leaving mine, before finally cursing under his breath and digging the phone out of his pocket. "What?" he snaps, his voice laced with irritation.

I can't hear the other end of the conversation, but whatever they say causes Vladimir's face to tighten with a mix of amusement and something darker. "No shit," he mutters, pushing away from me. "Tomorrow morning."

His eyes dart around, searching the surroundings as if looking for hidden threats. He grunts a few times in response to the caller before hanging up and shoving the phone back into his pocket. Raking his fingers through his long blond hair, he grumbles, "Dumb cunt fell for it."

His eyes land on me again, sharper than daggers, and he steps into my personal space, his voice a low growl. "Get in the car."

I hesitate, my mind still reeling. "What's going on now?"

He grabs me by the hand, tugging me around the other side of the car. "We're going home, and we will finish this conversation. I want my answer."

I dig in my heels, resisting his nudge to get inside. "Answer to what? Yes, I'll stand beside you and kill these pricks by your side."

A slow smirk spreads across his face, and he looks at me with a mix of pride and possession. "That's the answer I wanted. Now, get in the car, i want you to scream it while i make sure you believe it."

I decide I've wasted enough time and climb into the passenger seat. He makes sure I buckle my seatbelt before shutting the door and stomping around to the driver's side. As he slides into the driver's seat, he starts the engine, and we pull out of the parking lot, the city lights blurring into a stream of chaos and destruction.

The drive home is tense, the air between us charged with unspoken words and promises. I can feel his eyes on me, demanding, possessing. And I know that once we get home, he'll make sure I understand the depth of his commitment and the extent of his love.