Submitting To The Devil - The Devil's Snare - Book 2

Chapter Forty

Niko

Sven and I meticulously strip what little clothing Alexandra had on, but we find nothing that could account for a tracking device.

Even so, we check every crevice of her body and still come up empty-handed before replacing the clothing to give her some sense of decency. If I'm honest, I tackle the task with indifference, but in honesty, I feel sick to my stomach doing such a task.

At first, she shook like a leaf, but her true identity showed itself when her quivering lip turned into a malicious smile when we realised she didn't have an evident tracking device.

"Perhaps you should look elsewhere," she sneered at me with enough malice to prove she's gone entirely fucking rogue. This is not the woman I remember; she sure isn't the loved-up woman who followed Mitchels every word.

"I should kill you now, leave your dead body for them to find. Perhaps that would leave the message that I'm not to be played with," I hiss back with equal fervour, but I knew I was only playing into her game. She has the upper hand, and that's frustrating. Beyond words, it's frustrating.

"Oh, poor, Niky. Always wanting more, always stood in the shadows. You're not Luca; you'll never be like him," she whispers close to my face. It's obvious she's trying to goad me, and I'm playing right into her hands by listening to every single fucking word.

Swinging my hand, I pull the safety back on my gun.

I have no need for her; she's better off being dead because I know for a fact Mitchel will be churning in his chair knowing she's here and not with him or, better yet, six feet under where she can't dirty his name as she is right now.

"Do it! Shoot me, see where that gets you," she snarls like a rabid dog.

"Bee?" I call behind me because she's far too quiet. She doesn't answer, and that makes me look around, squinting in the dark to make her out.

Why hadn't I noticed her move to sit on the stairs, and why is she breathing like that?

I race to her side, shouting for Sven to take over guarding Alexandra, and I stoop down to my knees, stroking her cheek as I take in her state.

"Bee," I encourage her to look up at me. Tears stain her face, the moonlight highlighting them, which makes me sick to my stomach. "What's wrong?" I hush lowly.

"Nothing, I'm fine. Just—go," she tells me. It's gut-wrenching; I can hear her pain, but I also hear her need to have me pushed far away.

I thought we got over this, but now I see there are layers to Bianca that I haven't touched yet. This creates a need I can't explain with words.

She's my wife, and I hate her that previous hurt still jade's her acceptance of me in times like these. But we have time to iron this out. I'll get to the bottom of her hurt and repaint over the dull colour she's battling against.

"No, I'm here. Right where I should be. I'm here for you, Bianca. Only you."

"You can't heal these ugly parts of me," she tells me desperately, but I hear more than her telling me something. I listen to her convincing herself she can't be healed. She's so wrong.

"I don't care; I accept them. I accept all of you, Bee."

"Why?" she asks in a quiet and frightened tone. Her disbelief is flavoursome, and I hate it.

I think long and hard about my answer, but it comes down to one thing.

"Because I can," I tell her with a look that I hope transpires everything I'm not saying.

Because I love you should have been the words that left my mouth, but it's the wrong time to say such things, especially when the feeling is so new and appeared so quickly that even I'm tripping over this emotion I've run from all my life.

"I'm ugly, horribly ugly inside, Niko."

"And I'll love those ugly parts just the same; now, do you want to talk about it or save that conversation for later?"

She looks astounded but peers around me, squinting as I had to find her.

"Now's not the time," she tells me unsurely.

"Wrong," I tell her as I cradle the side of her neck. Her pulse is so fast, and her skin so clammy. What the fuck did Alexandra say to trigger her? "When you're ready, it will be the perfect time. No matter how inappropriate the time may seem to you. I'm open, Bee. Whenever you're ready."

"Okay," she nods, and I know then that she's ending this conversation prematurely, but I have to reluctantly agree, considering the pickle we seem to have found ourselves in.

"Okay," I kiss her, hoping to reassure her that I'm here no matter where or what I'm doing.

"Sven?" I call. "You know this place well, it seems. Where can I protect my wife from the oncoming invasion?"

"I'll show you," he tells me, hinting at the fact he doesn't trust anyone with his words.

"Very well. Bring her too," I nod at Alexandra.

I'm surprised that he leads us outside once he's released Alexandra and tied her to his liking.

I follow with Bianca on my arm, and we walk through the wooded area at the back of the house in tense silence, passing the pruned gardens only to enter the wilderness. Bianca trips often, and I have to save the pair of us as we steer off the path and into heavily wooded growth. The floor is moist and slippery, yet I feel ten times safer out here than in the house.

Even so, none of us makes a noise as Sven leads us through the growth as if he knows it like the back of his hand.

Finally, he comes to a stop and uses his phone as a torch to push aside a curtain of hanging vines that perfectly hides an outbuilding and a single red door.

His thumbprint opens up the door, which surprises me.

I know Dimitri often makes him work alongside me, but I hadn't realised he trusted him this much.

I guide Bianca inside and pull the door closed behind us. The locking mechanism reassures me that we're safe.

"There's signal blockers down here. Whatever device she has, I can assure you it's dead to them now."

"We have a lot to discuss, it seems," I carefully tell him with a look of distrust. Who is Sven, and why is he trusted to this extent?

"I'm sworn—."

I stopped him. I didn't have time to listen to him telling me I had no right to know. My wife and my life are in danger, and so is his, for that matter.

"We will discuss it," I stipulate as he flicks the overhead lights on. "Or I'll get it out of you by any means necessary."

"Fine," he murmurs, closing the door behind us.