Unfit for Love

Chapter 11

Angelina's POV

I press the gun hard against the heart of the most incredibly handsome man I have ever seen. His eyes flicker down to my hand gripping the weapon, and I seize the moment to take in his features. Silky black hair slightly curled at the end, a few loosely battling strands on his forehead, those thick lashes covering his dam stormy ocean blue eyes. I never knew blue could be such a powerful color until I found myself drowning in those eyes. His sharp jawline complements his face like every decimeter of his face is carved to be perfect. Even in this tense moment, he radiates a natural confidence that's impossible to ignore, a presence that makes me forget, just for a second, who am I.

The moonlight falling on his face made it more magnificent and I was suddenly jealous of that dam light of being able to touch his face. I force myself to focus on the gun in my hand, but he twists my left wrist slightly, and with a quick motion, he pulls my face closer with the blade he's holding under my chin. I was wearing my full gear suit with guns and knives tucked safely, a black mask covering my face but never in my life, I have felt so ripped. On the other hand, the man standing in front of me is devoid of any expression, except for those damned eyes. They're not just beautiful; they're intense, filled with something that goes beyond words. There's a depth there, a kind of gravity that pulls me in, making me forget everything else.

He towers over me. Even though I'm 5'6", he somehow makes me feel small. The moment which felt like an eternity broke by a gunshot, I try to take advantage of the distraction, attempting to break free from his hold, but it's futile. He pulls me closer, his chest just inches from mine, his warmth radiating through the fabric of his suit. We're so close, yet he's not touching me anywhere except for my wrist. I push the gun harder into his chest, trying to regain control.

Another gunshot rings out, and I flinch at the sudden sound. His grip on my wrist loosens, and he eventually lets go, though he still holds the blade. With a careful, almost tender motion, he uses the blade to move the strands of hair from my face to the back of my ear. I close my eyes to suck in air, and at this moment, I realize something important: I might be holding the gun, but I'm the one who's truly vulnerable. There's a power in him, something that's not just about his looks. He's in control even when he shouldn't be. I'm caught between the instinct to protect myself and the undeniable pull to know him, to understand what lies behind those eyes.

By the time the third shot is fired, he's gone. I run toward the exit, sprinting out of the factory through the secret room I entered before. Not wanting to remember what just happened ever again. I glance back, checking if anyone is following me, but strangely, no one is. Boris's men had kept me with three other girls in the basement storage. I helped them escape when the guard shift changed, and to my luck, one of the girls had already been planning a getaway and had a plan ready. I just had to lead them out. I stayed with them until we reached the main road, where everyone scattered, and then I returned here.

But I guess my luck isn't so great after all. My other phone buzzes—the one I had hidden away while leaving my regular phone in the basement, just in case someone decided to investigate.

"Where the fuck are you?" Arie's voice blasts through the phone the moment I pick up. Oh no.

"Hello to you too," I try to keep my tone light.

"Don't you dare 'hello' me," she snaps. Okay, not telling her about my plan was a bad idea.

"I'm at the southeast road near the Aqua Vieta factory," I say quickly. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, she hangs up. I toss my jacket, mask, and wig into the factory's waste dump while running, and of course, the weather suddenly decides to turn chilly. A cold breeze blows through, making the cut on my side sting even more.