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

Chapter Fifty One

Bianca

This is my fight, and I'll be damned if either of these two takes my bullet when it's me who knew I always belonged to them.

"Bee! BEE!" Niko hisses at me as tears stream down my face. The wet, hot hurt that he wants to die for little old me makes my internal hate turn with apprehension. "No," he finally says into my ear, his hands around my waist as I'm lifted from the floor. "You must act accordingly; how else will I get you out of here?"

"You're not," I almost but shout.

"Shh! You will get out of here. We need time, and I need to bargain with him."

"There's no room for negotiation with the Densels, Niko. They are a savage, and they think they own me. The simplest course of action may be to walk out there and surrender. It will end this now, and you won't get hurt, Niko."

"You're my wife, not his," he declares with unwavering conviction, his voice charged with a fierce jealousy that cannot be ignored. "I won't stand idly by and let anyone take what is rightfully mine."

"But I always belonged to them," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper, laced with shame as the weight of my confession hangs heavy in the air. I hate the fact that he thinks I belong to him rather than we belong together, but I'm too damn hurt to tell him that.

"No!" he responds, the denial sharp and resonant.

"Yes," I reply, my throat tightening as I fight back a sob, the raw emotion spilling over like an ache I can no longer contain.

"Enough," Sven interrupts us. "You're not going to the Densels," he tells me. "And you need to go with your negotiation plan while I try to get her down to the road; after that, you need to avoid those shots and get to us, too. If I have to cuff her and gag her, I will," Sven interjects with a promise.

"Don't hurt her," Niko demands, walking away from me without turning his back on me and stepping back to the door. I watch with disappointment as he unlocks the internal door we just fought to get through and steps inside. I lurch forward, but firm hands hold me back.

"Alright, Densel. Let's talk about this," Niko calls out as Sven pulls the door closed and locks it with a key, essentially leaving Niko in direct danger.

I plaster myself to the door, listening intently.

"Open the door, pass me Bianca, and I'll be on my way. It'll be that simple," Densel calls out, his voice low, demanding and quite frankly scary. It's a lie, and we all know it.

"Simples not in the dictionary, Densel. You know I'm not going to do that. She's my wife now. We've already covered that part."

"She was never Moretta's to give to you. She knows that, he knew that. You're starting an all-out war over pussy, boy."

"Bianca?" Sven calls me, but I can't move; I'm immobile with fear over Niko's safety.

"Come on, Densel. We all know touching one's wife is against the very grain of being in the mafia. The papers are signed, her name changed, and our marriage is well and truly consummated. She belongs to me now."

"Take the gun," Sven orders as he shoves a Glock in my hand. "Things are about to get messy, and we need to be ready to run," he demands. He reaches for the key and unlocks the internal door, and his turn of events shakes me. What does he know that I don't?

Glancing down, I check the barrel to find it full before I move the gun around to assess its weight. I'm never much of a good shot, unlike Emma, but I can aim and fire without a second thought.

"What do you mean, messy?" I ask cluelessly. But he has no time to answer; gunshots sound one after the other, hitting my body as if the bullets were penetrating my skin. He swings the inner door open, and I see Niko aiming at the door to the first room. Several holes litter the wood, making me swallow. Did he hit Derek?

"Move!" Sven commands, urgency lacing his voice as he bolts for the balcony door, his gun poised and aimed at the building opposite. A rush of adrenaline courses through me, and I instinctively follow, the world around me blending into a blur. As we burst onto the balcony, I know the danger looms large—I might catch a stray bullet—but instinct drives me forward. I crouch low, feeling the rough metal railing dig into my palms as we move synchronously, born from desperation and unspoken understanding as if we've rehearsed this dance countless times.

The sound of gunfire echoes in the air, sharp and jarring, as Sven shields me, his body a protective barrier against the unseen threat. I climb over the railing and onto the staircase, each movement felt but not contemplated, my instincts taking over. Sven pushes me into the stairs, the cool metal a welcome relief against the chaos above. Bullet shards pepper the wall above my head, sending fragments skittering with a deafening crack.

I hear him count, a steady rhythm amid the pandemonium. Then, a moment of tense silence stretches before a second shot resonates, sharp and ominous, precisely forty seconds later. A third shot soon follows, the proximity of the danger palpable in the air, heightening the urgency of our escape.

"Down, thirty-nine seconds, and plaster yourself to the wall, then go again," Sven shouts in my ear as footsteps echo on the metal above us.

I want to look up; everything inside me wants to check who's coming, but I know I haven't the time to figure out if Niko won or Derek did.