Chapter 64 Chapter 64
Chapter 64
Nina’s POV
Nikolai didn’t say much after breakfast. He just stood up, grabbed the keys from the hook by the door, and nodded toward the garage. I followed him out without asking questions. The dark green G-Wagon sat waiting like it owned the place. Black rims. Tinted windows. Heavy. Mean. Exactly the kind of car that matched the men who drove it.
He opened the passenger door for me. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just waited until I climbed in before he shut it and walked around to the driver’s side. The engine growled low when he started it. Deep rumble that vibrated through the seat and into my bones.
We drove out of the compound gates. Two guards nodded at him. One had a huge German Shepherd on a short leash. The dog barked once, sharp, then sat still. I watched the gates close behind us in the side mirror. Felt something loosen in my chest for the first time in days.
The road wound through trees at first. Then opened up to flat land. After about twenty minutes we turned onto a narrower path. Gravel crunched under the tires. Ahead I saw tall chain-link fences topped with razor wire. Signs everywhere. Private Property. No Trespassing. Authorized Personnel Only. Looked like a military base someone forgot to put on the map.
More dogs. More men in black tactical gear. Rifles slung low. They waved Nikolai through without checking. He must come here a lot.
He parked near a long row of shooting bays. Concrete walls separated each one. Targets set at different distances. Some paper silhouettes. Some steel plates that would clang when hit. The air smelled like gunpowder and hot metal already.
Nikolai got out first. Walked to the back. Pulled out a black duffel. Inside were ear protection, glasses, ammo boxes, and three handguns. He handed me the smallest one. A slim black pistol. Looked almost delicate compared to the others.
I took it. Fingers clumsy. Never held a real gun before. Only seen them on TV or in the hands of these men. It felt heavier than I expected. Cold. Foreign.
He led me to the closest bay. Set up the target at twenty-five yards. Then stepped behind me.
“Feet shoulder width,” he said. Voice low. Calm. “Right hand high on the grip. Left hand wraps around. Thumbs forward. Don’t cross them.”
I tried. Hands shook a little. He noticed.
“Relax your shoulders.”
Easy for him to say.
He moved closer. Chest brushed my back. Not pressing. Just there. Warm through his shirt. His good arm came around. Adjusted my grip gentle. Fingers careful on mine. Like he didn’t want to startle me.
“Like this,” he murmured. Breath against my ear.
My heart kicked hard. Not just from the gun. From him being so close again. From remembering the shower. The way he stopped. The way he left.
He stayed professional though. Voice steady. No teasing. No heat in his words. Just instructions.
“Elbow soft. Not locked. Breathe in. Out slow. At the bottom of the exhale… squeeze.”
I aimed. Finger on the trigger felt wrong. Too much pressure already.
I squeezed.
The shot cracked loud. Recoil snapped my arms back. Missed the paper completely.
My hands stung right away. Skin red where the slide had bitten.
Nikolai noticed. Didn’t comment at first. Just took the gun from me. Reloaded. Handed it back.
Then he pulled off his own leather gloves. Black. Worn soft. Slid them over my hands. They were too big. Warm from his body heat. Smelled faintly like him. Leather and clean soap.
“Better,” he said.
He stepped behind me again. This time his hands settled light on my waist. Steadying. Not grabbing.
“Again.”
I lifted the gun. Aimed. Breathed. Squeezed.
The shot rang out. Paper tore. Hole appeared just outside the center ring.
He didn’t praise. Didn’t scold. Just said, “Closer.”
I kept going. Missed some. Grazed others. Hands burned worse. Gloves helped but not enough.
Then one shot. Clean. Dead center.
My breath caught.
Nikolai leaned in. Lips brushed the shell of my ear. Soft. Wet. Barely a kiss. More like a breath that turned into touch.
“Good,” he whispered.
My whole body lit up. Heat rushed from my ear straight down my spine. I almost dropped the gun.
He straightened. Voice back to normal. “Shoot more.”
I took deep breaths. Tried to focus. Shot again. Hit. Missed. Hit. The rhythm started to feel less impossible.
After a while he stepped to my side. Watched me reload myself.
“You’re getting it,” he said. “For a first time.”
I lowered the gun. Looked at him. “When are you guys ever going to let me go?”
He met my eyes. No surprise on his face. Like he expected the question.
“When your dad pays what he owes us.”
I laughed once. Bitter. “But you sold me. A hundred million to the sheikh.”
He chuckled. Low. Short. First real sound like that from him. “It was to the Unction Charity. Not a sheikh. And that’s not how it works, little bunny.”
I rolled my eyes hard. “Don’t call me that.”
He ignored it. Kept talking. “Where exactly would you go if we let you walk? Can you be on your own? Would you even survive? You know you have more enemies now than you did a week ago.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. He wasn’t wrong. And I hated that.
“If I were you,” he said quiet, “I’d shut my mouth and learn how to use the fucking gun.”
Anger flared hot in my chest. I turned back to the target. Lifted the gun. Started shooting again. Faster. Harder. Every shot a little release. Bullets gone in minutes. Clip empty.
I lowered my arms. Breathing heavy.
Nikolai watched me. “I see you let out some steam.”
He packed up the gear. “Let’s go home.”
We walked back to the G-Wagon. He opened the driver door. Grabbed the handle. Winced. Sharp. Quick. Tried to hide it.
I stopped. “Let me see.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine.”
“Macho bullshit.” I stepped closer. Took his arm gentle but firm. Pushed the leather jacket sleeve up.
Blood. Fresh. Soaking through the bandage. Red spreading fast.
I shook my head. “I might not know how to shoot a gun yet. But I know wounds. I’m driving us to the nearest pharmacy. I’ll clean this up.”
“We have first aid at home.”
“Let me handle this. Please. Then you can go back to being the scary monster.”
He stared at me. Long. Then sighed. Handed over the keys.
I slid behind the wheel. Felt the leather under my palms. Big engine. Big car. My hands shook a little from excitement. First time driving since they took me. First taste of something like freedom.
I started it. Music came on automatic. Loud rap beat. Cardi B. Bodak Yellow blasting through the speakers.
I looked at him. Laughed out loud. Couldn’t help it.
“Never knew the big tough guy was a Cardi B fan.”
He smirked. Barely. “I’m more Nicki.”
I snorted. “Please. Nicki’s overrated. Cardi has the flow.”
We argued the whole way. Light. Stupid. Him directing me toward a huge mall on the edge of town. Pharmaceutical section tucked in one corner. I kept my eyes open. Noted street signs. Turns. Landmarks. Everything.
Inside the pharmacy I grabbed antiseptic wipes. Gauze. Medical tape. Antibiotic ointment. Scissors. Gloves. The cashier, older woman with glasses low on her nose, looked at the pile.
“Prescribed by a doctor?”
I smiled sweet. “I’m a final year medical student.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
Nikolai stepped up behind me. Didn’t say a word. Just gave her that cold stare. The one that made people decide arguing wasn’t worth it.
She rang it up fast. No more questions.
We turned to leave. Nikolai paused. Walked back inside alone. Came out a minute later with a small paper bag. Held it out.
I peeked. Chocolates. Dark. The good kind.
“For me?”
He nodded. Face blank. No smile. No warmth.
I stepped close. Threw my arms around his neck. Hugged tight. “Thank you.”
He stiffened. Then pushed me back gentle but firm. “That’s enough.”
I laughed again. Soft. Didn’t push it.
We got back in the car. I drove us toward the house. He pulled out his phone. Made a quick call. Low voice. Russian. I didn’t catch the words.
When he hung up he looked at me. “I need to make one more call when we get back. Then you can dress the wound.”
“Okay.”
I kept one hand on the wheel. The other slipped into the shopping bag. Found the receipt. Small strip of paper. Delivery contact number printed at the bottom. Pharmacy name. Phone. Email.
Perfect.
I folded it small. Slid it into my bra. Under the edge of my tank top. Heart beat faster again. Not from the gun this time.
From possibility.
He didn’t notice.
We kept driving. Music still playing low now. Sun high. Road stretching ahead.
I smiled to myself. Small. Secret.
And kept my eyes on the road.