𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐦𝐞 | ✔

ғɪғᴛʏ sᴇᴠᴇɴ

vote&comment if you wanna ;) thank you for ur patience <3

without further adieu, I present to you the next chapter...

༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DEVI BHATT

I don't know how long we've been here for, but it's been long enough. And for some insane reason, they also kidnapped the boss of the Russian mafia. There has to be some kind of mistake. There must be.

I look around us. It smells wet and muddy. Are we underground? I can only see unending darkness and shadows around us.

From the side of my eye, I see Grisha. All I hear is his heavy breathing– he sounds disorientated, too disorientated.

We try not to look at each other. However, every now and then, for some fated reason, our heads turn and our eyes connect at the same time– for the tiniest second before I look away harshly.

It's always at the same fucking time.

My back is uncomfortably burning too. It's been a while since I applied coconut oil to my scars– I didn't think it would affect me that much if I didn't. Twisting my wrists, I wince at the rope burn I feel. They've tied us up pretty tight and my senses are drowsy with whatever they drugged us with. But if I ignored the rope burn I could snap free. I slump against the back of my seat. The wood is not comfortable for my ass right now.

My stomach grumbles.

Embarrassed, my gaze immediately connects with Grisha's again. Dammit. There's something embarrassing about your stomach rumbling loudly.

The silence is loud.

The adrenaline in me has waned since before, leading me to feel far more in control now but also really damn exhausted. It swept me over and under like a tsunami, leaving me in pieces across the shore. It's also making me feel regret for telling him everything– because it's going to make him see me differently. When we get out, I'll tell him to forget it.

"Devi," he calls my name for the fifth time.

I turn to face him. "What?" he's sitting down, yet panting and there's a shine of sweat over his forehead. "What's wrong with you?" I hear myself say.

I ignore the way his eyes roam over my face like I've been hiding from him. "Are you hurt?" He doesn't answer my question.

"No, I'm fine." I look away. "We need to get out– do you know where we are right now or who we're with?"

He scans the environment like we have a million times already. "No. But it wasn't the Italians. The tactic was too different and under the rug sort of thing. They have a habit of making themselves known recently."

I snort, ignoring the bitter feeling inside of me. "Then who is it?"

"I don't know."

A beat of silence passes, a perfect opening for hopelessness to slide right in.

"We're The Triad," a growl pours out from the shadows. The voice curls around my leg like a snake, I dig my foot into the wood before a tremor can affect me. "And you Russians have something of ours. Time to make it even, no?"

The Triad. We stole gold from them, which technically belongs to the Italians. They were supposed to be guarding it and we stole it. And as if they were bidding their fair time, the Italians haven't spoken a word about it. The oil, the shipments and the money. And the gold.

"I'm bored," I yawn.

When I side-eye Grisha, I see amusement in his eyes.

"Shut it," the man in the dark snarls.