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

Chapter Sixty Four

Niko

I wake up feeling disoriented, my head pounding like a relentless drum, and my mouth parched as if sand had settled on my tongue. A deep, throbbing ache spreads from my shoulder through my chest and down my back, intensifying with every shallow breath I struggle to take. The gunshot wounds feel like a heavy weight, making it almost impossible to fill my lungs completely; I'm left gasping for air, frustration coiling in my gut.

Instead of immediately opening my eyes, I linger in the warm cocoon of sleep, allowing the comforting thought of Bianca's presence to envelop me like a soft blanket. She should be near, close enough that I can almost feel her warmth, a fragile barrier against the harsh reality of our dim, wooden boatshed—a place that feels both claustrophobic and sacred, offering us refuge from the looming dangers outside.

As I extend my arm, yearning to draw her close, I find nothing but the cool, empty bed sheets slipping through my fingers like wisps of mist—chilling against my skin. A surge of adrenaline jolts me awake, and I sit up, disbelief flooding my senses as I take in the stark emptiness of the bed. The space beside me feels like a gaping void, amplifying the coldness that creeps into my bones.

"Bee?" I call out, my voice wavering as I push myself to my feet, my heart thunderous in my chest. A profound unease gnaws at my insides, screaming that she's no longer here—that Derek has taken her. "Bee?" I call again, dread pooling in my stomach as I dash into the bathroom, greeted by unsettling silence that echoes my growing terror.

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration, racing to the table, my hands trembling as I search for our phones. There's only Dimitri's burner phone—my personal one is ringing insistently from a distance, its sharp tone slicing through the tense atmosphere. I'm sure that is what woke me, in honesty.

"Sven?" I call into the dimly lit corridor that leads to the main saloon where the kitchen resides, but a sudden, searing pain lance through my side, causing me to stumble against the unforgiving cold wall. I grasp the wall for support, my heart racing as shadows dance menacingly around my vision.

I grab the ringing phone. The sound is relentless and alarming, signalling impending chaos. Luca's anxious voice blares through the speaker, laced with an urgency that sends a chill racing down my spine.

"Niko! Damn it, Niko, it's been hours!" His frustration is palpable. "Are you okay? Is Sven okay?"

My hesitation stretches into a heavy silence as the weight of Sven's condition sinks in. I glance back at him, instinctively checking for a pulse at his neck. My fingers brush against cold, clammy skin, and though I detect a faint flutter, dread washes over me like a tidal wave.

"Sven!" I shout, panic propelling me into action as I slap his face, desperation overriding any gentleness. "Wake up, you Russian bastard. Come on!"

He groans—a sound that rattles my nerves yet signals he's still with me and that there's a flicker of hope in this dark moment. Amid my tumultuous thoughts, I almost forget about Luca, the phone precariously balanced on the table by my hand that it had previously been in.

"Niko!" Luca's voice pierces through my fog, desperation sharpening his tone. "Bianca's gone," he grinds out, each word striking me like thunder. "She called to tell me she was leaving and that we're all in danger. I need to know where to start looking."

"I have no clue where their base is," I mutter dejectedly, a wave of helplessness crashing over me. Did she leave willingly? After everything we've faced, did she truly put herself in harm's way to protect us—me, of all people?

"Luca?" I call, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes?"

"Where the hell are you, man?"