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

Chapter Fifty Seven

Bianca

We move cautiously in a single-file line toward Moretta's boat shed, nestled on the eastern edge of the mainland. As we approach, the tranquil beach gives way to a bustling market filled with vendors and shoppers, the atmosphere far busier than either Niko, Sven, or I would have preferred.

I exchange a glance with the pair as we crouch low to stay out of sight at the edge of the beach. My gaze lingers on Niko, his t-shirt drenched in crimson—a stark reminder of the dangers we've faced to get here. It's a sight that would undoubtedly attract unwelcome attention, especially with the women and children from mafia families scurrying through the market, eager to collect supplies for their boat excursions.

"We need to grab a t-shirt and some supplies," Sven murmurs, my unvoiced thought that comes out purely as a moan when I note just how much Niko has bled.

"We didn't get the cash," Niko replies, his tone steady but his eyes betraying his worry. He's cognisant of his bleeding, and I'm sure he's feeling the effects of it.

"Who said I was paying?" Sven chuckles, shaking off the gravity of our situation. He straightens, clearly intent on making a move alone, but I quickly rush to his side.

"You distract them; I'll swipe a t-shirt," I propose, urgency propelling my words.

"You should stay here with Niko. Look after him," Sven argues, glancing back at our injured companion.

"No way! You'll be an easier target on your own. Just talk their ear off while I grab what we need. We work as a team," I insist, my determination flaring. This, I'm good at. When you live with a man such as my father, you learn early on how to loot things he doesn't want you to have.

"Bee," Niko calls, a warning in his voice.

"Whatever!" I throw my hands up in frustration, adrenaline surging as I begin to break away from them, ready to put my plan into action with or without Sven.

"Go after her," Niko suddenly commands, his voice firm and edged with a fierce protectiveness I've never heard from him before. Beneath that pride, I sense an undercurrent of fear. It's clear he's scared, and it only fuels my resolve to prove that we can navigate this chaos together.

"Alright, Bianca. You've certainly got some fire in you," Sven says as he strides to catch up with me, urgency in his eyes. "Let's not jeopardise everything we've fought for just to keep you safe."

I let out a soft laugh tinged with irony. "I hate to break it to you, Sven, but I've never truly escaped danger. We've been running from it, yes, but out of its grasp. You're sorely mistaken."

As we stroll through the bustling market, the first stall we encounter boasts an array of colourful T-shirts hanging from hooks, fluttering gently in the breeze. My eyes catch a glimpse of a vibrant blue round neck, and without sparing a moment to check the size, I deftly snatch it off the rack, continuing my stride as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.

The chaos of the crowd swirls around us, but no one seems to notice a thing. It feels exhilarating, yet perfectly casual as I hold the shirt close, making no move to pass it to Sven until we're two rows down and three stalls back, blending seamlessly into the energetic flow of shoppers.

I glance at him with a mischievous grin. "Here, quick enough for you?" I tease as he takes the shirt from my hands, surprise etched on his face. He shoves it in his bag, hiding my offence.

"That was...," he stammers, still processing the swift manoeuvre.

"Impressive? Maybe," I reply nonchalantly. "By the way, do you think there'll be a stall for first aid supplies around here?"

"Over there," he nods.

I follow his gaze with a sense of urgency, my heart racing as I spot a large stall that stretches across several tables, each cluttered with an assortment of medical supplies. The need surging within me is primal, a drive that propels me forward with determination. Niko desperately needs medical care, and I am more than capable of procuring what he requires.

My fingers graze the edge of the stall, and I feel the familiar crunch of packets of gauze tumble into my waiting grasp. I shove them deep into my pockets, barely registering the rough texture of the fabric against my skin as I push on. My eyes land on a suturing kit. It seems strangely out of place yet oddly fitting for the shadowy dealings of the mafia surrounding me.

Just as I reach for a packet, a sudden force knocks me off balance, sending me stumbling backwards in shock as I'm guided with urgency.

"I'm so sorry, Bambi," Benji's voice is a low rumble in my ear, hot breath washing over my cheek as he presses against me. A bag is thrust into my abdomen, its weight jarring me, and I'm momentarily lost in the chaos as I collide with another body. Strong hands grip me from behind, anchoring me as I stagger.

"Bianca," Sven's sharp and familiar voice replaces Benji's, cutting through the confusion. I blink rapidly, trying to steady my thoughts amidst the swirl of disorientation, struggling to focus on their presence and the purpose that drove me here.

I scan my surroundings, my heart pounding as I desperately search for any sign of Benji. Panic courses through me; it feels like his voice is merely a figment of my imagination. The only tangible proof of our connection is the worn bag clutched tightly in my hand, its contents clinking softly—medical packets and an old, familiar phone that evoked memories of my father, who had carried a similar device for many years. I can hear his voice answering the phone in the dead of night in the corridor that housed all of our bedrooms. His tone was hushed, but he always began with the call with 'Densel'.

With a sense of urgency, I draw the bag closed, the snap resonating in my ears. I turn to Sven, a mix of determination and anxiety etched across my face. "We need to head back," I urge him, my voice steady despite the chaos in my heart.

Sven glances down at the bag, his brow furrowed in confusion, but without hesitation, he steps behind me, a silent trust in his stride.

I can't shake the feeling that the Densels are hot on our trail, their presence looming like a dark shadow, and I'm the only one who knows they are within metres of us. Niko could be in danger, and he's all alone. But the question gnaws at me—why didn't Benji take me with him? The opportunity was right there, wide open, yet here I am, inexplicably walking back to Niko, clutching everything I need while grasping the reins of my own fate. How have I managed to slip through the cracks, my life still within my control?