Journalist Delera never imagined that infiltrating a glamorous charity gala would plunge her into the deadly world of Ivan, the infamous don of the Russian mafia. Disguised as a dancer, she steps right into a trap, thrusting her into a perilous game...
Delera's heart pounded violently as Evan Sokolov's grip tightened around her. The cold, commanding presence of the Russian mafia don loomed over her, his icy blue eyes locked onto hers with a mix of anger and satisfaction.
"After ten years," Evan whispered, his voice a dangerous purr against her ear, "you finally come into my hands. There's no escape now." His words were like a cold knife slicing through her resolve. The world seemed to spin around her, a whirl of anxiety and dread.
Delera tried to remain calm, though her father's warnings echoed in her mind. For years, Victor Sokolov had prepared her for the possibility of being discovered, but nothing could have braced her for this moment. Her father's meticulous efforts to keep their past hidden seemed futile now. Delera had always feared this—her family discovering Mia's life outside the mafia's laws and the consequences that would follow.
In her suitcase lay her true identity: her real passport, her genuine address in Canada. But with a sudden change of plans, she had used a fake identity to travel to Sardinia, hoping to throw off any potential trackers. The thought that Evan might find her and not trace Mia or Victor made her feel a fleeting sense of relief. At least, she hoped that her sister and nephew remained safe.
Desperation flared within her as Evan's grip did not waver. She knew that the only evidence of Mia's whereabouts was her own mouth, and she was determined not to betray her sister or her nephew, Atlas. Whatever it took, she would protect her family's secrets.
Before she could find a way to reason with Evan, to plead for understanding, she felt a sharp sting at her neck. The world tilted and darkened as the drug took effect, her thoughts becoming a hazy blur. Delera's last coherent thought was a silent plea—hoping that perhaps, just perhaps, Evan might hear her out. But as consciousness slipped away, she could no longer hold onto that hope.
In the next moment, Delera found herself in the backseat of Evan's luxury car, her vision hazy and her body numb. The lights of the Sardinian streets flashed by, a blur of neon and shadow. Her mind struggled to piece together her disjointed thoughts as the drug's effects took hold. Evan's chilling laughter echoed faintly in her ears as she succumbed to the darkness, the fate of her family hanging precariously in the balance.
The morning sun filtered through the heavy curtains of the opulent room, casting a muted glow on the luxurious furnishings. Delera awoke to the disorienting reality of her new surroundings. Her legs were bound to the bedposts, and her head throbbed with the remnants of the drug's effects. She could barely move, her limbs feeling like dead weight.
With great effort, she reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, desperately needing to soothe her dry throat. As she brought the glass to her lips, the door swung open with a sudden force, and Evan Sokolov strode in. His imposing figure filled the doorway, and his eyes—cold and unyielding—fixed on her with a predatory gaze.
Delera's heart skipped a beat. She nearly choked on the water she was drinking as she tried to process his sudden, aggressive entrance. Evan's presence was overwhelming, his aura charged with a dark intensity that sent shivers down her spine. He didn't even glance at her as he crossed the room, his gaze locked on her with an unsettling focus.
Without any preamble, Evan's voice cut through the air, harsh and demanding. "Delera, you better start talking. Where is Mia? What did you and your fucking father do to her? Where were you hiding? You're going to answer every fucking question so I don't have to hurt you."
His words were like a whip, each sentence laced with fury and menace. Delera was caught off guard. She had expected questions about Mia's whereabouts, but the sheer hostility in Evan's tone was unexpected. The way he spoke—his voice devoid of any warmth or compassion—was jarring. This was not the Evan she remembered.
Summoning her remaining strength, Delera looked him in the eyes, her voice trembling but defiant. "Evan, you're a don now. A mafia boss. You speak as if you have no mercy. This isn't the Evan I knew."
Evan's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing with a blend of anger and scorn. He stepped closer to her, his presence suffocating. "That's right, Delera. I am a don now. The power I wield comes with a price, and mercy is not part of the equation. You have no idea what I've become."
Delera's mind raced as she struggled to reconcile the man before her with the one she once knew. She had hoped that perhaps, despite his new role, there might be a trace of the Evan she remembered. But now, faced with the harsh reality of his transformation, she realized that the past was irrevocably gone.
With a resolve she didn't fully feel, Delera met his gaze. "I won't betray my family. You'll have to find your answers elsewhere."
Evan's lips curled into a cold smile, a hint of menace in his eyes. "We'll see about that. But make no mistake, Delera—I won't be easy on you. Not until I get the answers I need."
As he turned to leave the room, the heavy silence that followed felt like a suffocating shroud. Delera's mind was racing with fear and determination, her thoughts consumed by the safety of her family and the dangerous path that lay ahead.
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Hey everyone! 😊 I hope you're enjoying the twists and turns of Delera's journey as much as I am writing it! 🌟 I'd love to hear your thoughts on Part 3 and any predictions you have for what's coming next. Your feedback means the world to me and helps shape the story. If you're excited for more, don't forget to vote and share the love! 💖 Your support keeps the story going and inspires me to keep crafting these suspenseful moments. Thank you so much for being part of this adventure!
