COURTNEY ||18+||

~Chapter 9~

XAVIER's POV

EDITED 🤍

I seize her by the neck, choking her as I thrust relentlessly, my thighs slapping harshly against her ass. I ramp up my speed, desperate for the blinding pleasure that always comes from burying myself deep inside Courtney. But tonight, it's just bland. We've been at it for nearly an hour, and release feels agonizingly distant.

Her hands scramble to pry mine away from her throat, but I'm too far gone. The pressure builds, driving me to an urgent, frenzied pace. After several torturous minutes, I finally erupt inside her, and her limp body collapses onto the bed with a dull thud. I rise, barely sparing a glance at her, indifferent to her state—she's probably dead, and frankly, I don't care. The satisfaction eludes me.

I pull on a shirt and trousers before storming out of the room. It's been a month since I let her go. My original plan was to retrieve her as soon as she reached her destination, but the damn FBI has been on her every step of the way. The cops too, all waiting for me to make a move so they can finally catch me. Daniel must have ratted me out, that traitor. The government is still enraged over the senator I eliminated. The bastard deserved to die, after all.

I'm teetering on the edge of madness. Thoughts of her plague me constantly. When I get her back, I'll punish her for tormenting me and for leaving in the first place. Her eyes, pleading for mercy that day, are etched into my mind. The stress has pushed me to the brink; it feels like I can't breathe without her. I've exhausted every possible route into Seattle—believe me, I've tried them all.

"Dispose of her," I command as I enter the living room. Arthur, David, and Matt are sprawled drunkenly across the room, empty bottles strewn about. David, the most sober of the three, stands and moves to execute my order. I collapse onto the empty couch, my frustration overwhelming.

It's official: I can't function without her. I need to deal with these incompetents.

My phone pings, and I unlock it to find a photo of her. She's wearing tight jeans that accentuate her curves and a hoodie that hides half her face. Even though I'm not in Seattle, I'm keeping tabs on her. She's rented an apartment and is looking for a house to buy. She's cautious, clearly afraid of me—smart girl.

I head upstairs to my room, staring at the photo. The sight of her jeans-clad hips sends a jolt of desire through me. I strip off and jump into a cold shower, trying to douse the fire of unfulfilled need. As the cold water cascades over me, my thoughts drift to the last time I was deep inside her, fucking her hard in that shower. My arousal hardens further, and I can't help but stroke myself, imagining her. It's the only release I've found in the past month.

"It's simple," I say, twirling the gun in my hand as I look at the bloodied man tied to a chair in front of me. "Call off your guys from stalking her."

"We're not stalking her, you psycho. We're protecting her from you. And even if the FBI stops watching her, other organizations are keeping an eye on her," he sneers, glaring at me as if he could actually threaten me.

These idiots think they can keep her from me. Damn the consequences—I'll kill them all. I've managed to get the cops off her, but the FBI's persistence is maddening. I've eliminated every operative assigned to her, but they just keep sending more.

It's been ten months. I never imagined it would be this difficult to reclaim her, but it seems that everyone with a grudge against me is targeting her, viewing her as my weakness. The government is supposedly protecting her, but they're also the ones blocking my efforts to retrieve her.

Exasperated with the smart-ass in front of me, I put a bullet through his head and leave the warehouse, determined to resolve this chaos as quickly as possible.

I'm known as 'The Annihilator.'

I started as an independent assassin, taking any job as long as the price was right. Now, I lead the largest assassin corporation in the world. Ordinary people can no longer hire me—I work for governments, executing their targets, yet they still hunt me down. I answer to no country, only to the highest bidder.

The train assassination was commissioned by Russia to eliminate a U.S. senator. He was heavily guarded, so we had to seize control of the train and use its passengers. If they wanted revenge, they should have hired me to take out the Russian president. But no, they see me as the enemy. Unbelievable.

I don't have a fixed office for my staff. They're scattered across the globe, and the total number is under a hundred.

In recent months, I've been focused on eliminating my competition—coincidentally, the same people targeting my girl. They're the backbone of my operation.

I drive home and find Freya lounging on my couch as if it's her own. Despite her cocky demeanor, she stands when I enter, smirking.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demand angrily. Her job is to protect Courtney, not to be thousands of miles away from her.

"Good afternoon to you too, Xav," she replies, her tone dripping with sarcasm before she sits back down. If there's one person I'd love to kill, it's her. Despite her importance, if she irritates me again, I'll make her death excruciating. My glare seems to convey my intention, as she looks terrified before speaking.

"I can't do much from here, boss. I can't let her see me, so I can't properly protect her. Our enemies have already infiltrated her life. The G-Twins, Daphne and Dillon, are already winning her trust. They could strike at any moment to use her against you. You need to act fast."

"And how the hell did you let that happen?" I roar, stalking toward her and gripping her neck. "I barely... I barely made it out alive. I'm sorry." I release her, throwing her down before storming out.

My rage boils at the thought of my sworn enemies already getting close to her. Damn it, I'm going for her.

***

I watch as she enters the police station with the D-bitch, who seems to have earned her trust. It makes my blood boil—what is she, stupid or just desperate for company?

I intentionally left a message in her car, knowing it would distract the twins and keep them on edge. I follow them to a club and watch her get drunk, putting on a show for every man present. I can't afford to waste any more time, so I approach her from behind, gripping her waist and pressing my body against hers. The sensation is pure ecstasy. She grinds against me, fueling my desire.

Overwhelmed, I lean in, inhaling her intoxicating scent and covering her slender neck with kisses, envisioning the things I'll do to her.

"You look divine, umree." She freezes, recognizing my voice. I seize the moment to jab a syringe into her neck. I know she won't just come along willingly; my girl's had a taste of freedom.

I hoist her over my shoulder and storm out of the club. Arthur provides the necessary distraction to get her out of Seattle. As soon as word spreads that he's in Seattle, the FBI and other organizations begin searching for him, drawn like moths to a flame because he's my right-hand man.

I lay her in the back seat of my car and drive to the waiting private jet. It's the only way to get her out. Damn, I'm acting like a rat stealing away.

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@Enchantezxxx ❤️ this chapter is dedicated to you