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

Chapter Fifty Three

Niko

She does as she's asked, climbing down into the likely depth of hell as the smell from the system below makes me want to vomit, and I follow straight after using only one arm to hold my weight.

Gunshots come from multiple resources up above as Sven's bag hits the drain floor by my feet, splashing God knows what all over me. Noting the shots above, I realise they fire with spontaneous bursts, showing me they're desperate and hoping they might hit one of us with nothing but pure unadulterated luck.

The sound of the drain cover slamming in place has me gritting out in anxiety as Sven jumps down and out of the way of the line of sight.

I stumble to Bianca, moving her down the dimly lit alleyway, pushing her against the wall without a care in the world that I spread the filth of the wall or my own blood all over her.

Leaning forward, I crush her between myself and the wall, kissing her lips so ferociously that our teeth clash multiple times as we both fight for the upper hand in our communion. I ride her leg up around my waist and embrace the back of her neck while continuing to let every frustration and fear out through nothing sheer of loving her.

"They've vanished."

"They're here; they have to be. Someone get to tracking that bitch," Franko hollers with disgust. "How's my father?"

"Bleeding, say what you want about Niko, but he's a damn good shot and an opportunist."

"And my father's your boss, and you should be looking to kill Niko for what he's done," Franko hisses.

I press Bianca further into the wall, using my body to shield her just in case someone were to look down here, but the voices pass, getting further away, by some grace of fucking God.

How the fuck are they tracking Bianca?

"You're hurt, Niko," Bianca chastises me when I pull back ever so slightly to press my forehead against hers when my brain catches up to let a wave of pain finally settle deep within my stomach.

"It's through and through; there's an exit on the back of his shoulder," Sven enlightens us.

"Thank fuck, I hate you fishing bullets out of me," I try for jovial, but I sound deadly serious. It's not like it would be the first time he's had to patch me up on the sly, after all.

"It sounds like we have bigger fish to fry; it would have had to wait," Sven tells us as his footsteps echo down the tunnel.

"Do you know where this system goes?" I ask.

"No clue, but we're about to find out," he shrugs.

Picking up his wet, covered bag, which was covered in a substance I don't want to name, he begins to walk to the left.

Bianca goes to move, too, with a quiet determination on her brows, but I stop her, pushing her lightly back against the wall. Sven looks back, giving me one nod before he continues with his walk. Our silent communication is obviously still working well for both of us.

I'll admit I hate that fucker with a passion, but I also have to acknowledge that this isn't the first time he's saved my bacon.

"What you did up there—."

"Anyone would have stopped you from walking out there," Bianca overtalks me.

"No, Bee. Only someone that l—."

"Anyone would have saved you, Niko."

"Thank you." I tried another avenue, but even those words seemed to hit her like a blade.

"You're welcome. We need to move; staying in one place is likely to kill us," she tugs on my hand.

"Promise me something, Bee?" I pull her back when she slips away to move in Sven's direction.

"Let's walk," she moves, our arms outstretched as I remain still.

"Don't protect me again. I'm your husband; it's my job to—."

"No, Niko. You're my husband. Which is exactly why I would put my life on the line for you. We're a team, or did these last few days teach you nothing?" she spits angrily.

"I've never had to work with someone I hold so dear before," I admit sheepishly.

She snorts, laughing ironically at the blatant lie that just left my lips, or so she thinks. But the truth is I've never wanted to protect someone as much as I want to protect her. Not even Luca and his protection and survival are my responsibilities alone.

"Little old me?" She questions as I begin to walk with her.

"Yes, Bee. YOU."

"Maybe you can show me how much I mean to you when we're home. Has Luca reached out? Are they on their way?" She asks hopefully.

"Nothing yet, though it would be sabotage to message me now, don't you think, Bee?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she replies with sad desperation as we leave our hiding spot.

"Bee?"

"Mhm," she mumbles in the back of her throat.

"How are they tracking you?" I ask the question, which burns me up because it might be our downfall. It isn't unknown that men in this life implant those they think are flight risks, but some of the men mark their women in that way to prevent kidnap panning out for long periods of time.

Have the Densels implanted a device on Bianca to follow her every move, and has this whole scenario been orchestrated to get her back on neutral ground where no particular Don is in control?

It all makes sense: the breeze blocks stacking upon one another.

The bait—Alexandra and Benji. The distraction—the text. The redirection—getting rid of the threat the Morettas posed to the plan. The attack where we were defenceless and alone—the hotel.

Each was a seemingly unrelated event that all fit together to create the perfect opportunity to take my wife from me.

"I don't know. Maybe they're bluffing," she shrugs. It's noncommittal, and she avoids eye contact as I stand before her, imploring her to stare at me.

"What, what is it, Bee?"

"I—" she drops my hand and steps forward just out of my reach. It's a defence mechanism I've watched many women do when opposed to something they deem a risk, which tells me she's definitely withholding something.

"Bee, I need to know. Whatever it is, it is information that could be the key we didn't know we needed," I whisper, and despite my need to touch her and comfort her, I know it would be detrimental right now.

"I—. Fuck, Niko. I don't have memories of the day's post...when he took...It's all gone; I just woke up sore and covered in marks I couldn't heal for weeks and in my own bed when the night or nights before, I was in his. Below him," she almost sobs. "We never spoke about it after that. I was forbidden to bring it up, and my father never had me seen to. The scars still mark my body like a daring reminder of who I belong to."

"Bee."

"Don't, I don't need your pity, Niko. Of all people, I don't want your pity."

"That shouldn't have happened to you; your father shouldn't have put you in that position."

"It wasn't the first time he used one of us in his games to climb to the top, and even though he's dead, I'm sure it won't be the last."