Chapter 13: Chapter Twelve

The neon glow of the club’s sign bled into the night as the door swung shut behind Mirabella. She inhaled fresh breath into her lungs. The low bass from inside still pulsed in her bones, but out here it was quiet. Too quiet and she loved it. She hasn't changed her work outfit yet, she doesn't know if it was allowed, but she was going home in her work outfit. She just needed to get home as soon as possible. She was very tired and exhausted. Her bones felt weak, not entirely from work. But also from the encounter she had with that ruthless devil some minutes ago, who happens to own the club. It was really a small world. Of all clubs in town, how did she end up in his? If all bosses, how come he is her boss?

She drew in a long breath again as she made her way down. Her heels clicked against the pavement, sharp and defiant, though her chest felt tight with unease.

The street was nearly empty, but she could see cars passing. Just down the pavement of the club, she noticed a car packed at the curb. It was black and sleek. And she noticed a huge figure standing beside the car. He was the man from earlier today who walked out with Hunter after their encounter. Could be one of his men.

The tinted rear window lowered, slow and deliberate, until the man inside came into view.

Hunter.

She froze.

His presence always hits her like a punch. Even in the dim wash of the streetlight, his sharp jawline cut like steel, his dark eyes fixed on her with the same unwavering intensity that always seemed to strip her bare.

“Why was he still here?" She muttered quietly. She hoped he wasn't waiting for her because she had had enough for tonight. She just wants to rest her head on her bed.

“Get in the car,” he called out. His voice low and commanding, each syllable soaked in authority.

Bella’s heart jolted. Her pulse raced, but her feet stayed rooted to the concrete. “I don't want to.” Her voice came out hoarse, edged with panic and defiance. “Who are you to tell me what to do? You can’t just…”

Tobias who stood tall and broad, his suit neat, his expression carved from ice stepped aside and opened the rear door.. He didn’t look uncomfortable. He didn’t look hesitant. He looked like a man who had carried out orders far darker than this one.

“Inside,” Tobias said flatly, his tone without question or doubt.

Her stomach dropped. The driver, an older man with silver hair at his temples, remained silent in his position, hands steady on the leather steering wheel. Nothing about his posture betrayed surprise, he was used to this too.

Mirabella shook her head, desperate. “I’m not going anywhere with him.”

Hunter’s hand appeared suddenly at the open door, long fingers curling over the edge as if to remind her who truly controlled this moment. His gaze never wavered from hers.

“You think you’ve got a choice?” His words were soft, almost gentle. Which only made them more terrifying.

Tobias took one step closer, he wasn't aggressive, nor hurried, but filled with certainty. That was enough to shatter her defiance. Her instincts screamed that if she ran, he’d catch her before she blinked. If she screamed, no one would come.

The car loomed like a cage.

Her throat tightened as Tobias moved to usher her forward, but she stumbled back, clutching her bag like a weapon. “Don’t touch me!”

Hunter’s chuckle broke the night. Dark and dangerous. Amused at her resistance. She looked like a rebellious child opposing her elder.

“Then come touch me yourself, little flame,” he drawled.

The mocking tease snapped something inside her. Rage, fear, humiliation—they collided. She knew she had no upper hand here. She can't get away from these huge men even if she tried. So, against her better judgment, she lunged into the car, if only to prove he hadn’t dragged her like a prey. The door shut behind her with a heavy thud.

The interior swallowed her whole; wide, luxurious, black leather that smelled of expensive cologne and menace. Hunter lounged in the back seat like a king on a throne, one hand resting lazily on his thigh, the other draped along the seat back. The hand resting on his thigh reached out and pressed something like a botton and a barrier raised between them and the driver.

Before she could press herself as far away from him as possible, his hand shot out very fast.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled. Hard. She gasped, stumbling forward until she landed straddling his thighs, her knees were pressed against the leather seat, her already short skirt rode higher, above her thighs; leaving her exposed and her hands were pressed against his chest to keep some distance.

“What are you doing?!” she cried, her voice strangled.

“Shhh,” he hissed, drawing her closer, so close that she could feel his breath scorch her lips and face. His nose brushed along her jaw, inhaling the scent of her perfume as if he were memorizing it. He tilted her head to the side, just enough for him to breathe her in. He let out a low growl of pleasure that vibrated against her throat.

“You smell like sweet fire,” he whispered. “Like every filthy dream I’ve ever had. Like fire that is about to burn out and do you know what happens to a fire without fuel, Bella? It dies. But your fire will never die down, I will be the fuel that keeps you burning, and I will keep you burning for as long as I want.”

She twisted in his grip trying to escape, her body taut with fury, her heart racing with something she refused to name.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, his lips brushing dangerously close to her skin, “what kind of restraint it took not to take you the first time I saw you dance. All those years wasted.

He shifted beneath her, and she felt his hardness—the hard, insistent proof of his arousal pressing against her core through the thin barrier of fabric. Her breath hitched, unwillingly, but he caught it, noticed it, and grinned like the devil himself.

“Feel that?” His words were sharp, cruel. “That’s what your resistance does to me. You can scratch, claw, scream, fight all you want, it only makes me harder, sweetheart. It only makes me imagine how tightly your little pussy would wrap around me.”

“Please stop holding me. Let me go!” Her voice cracked as she tried to wrench away, her hands pushing against his iron chest. But he tightened his grip, yanking her hair just enough to make her gasp.

“Stop struggling baby,” he ordered softly, almost mockingly. “Or don’t… I like it either way.”

“Let me go, or I would get the police involved,” she knew that was a ridiculous thing to say to someone like him, but she said it anyway.

His laugh was low, vibrating against her chest. His hand fisted tighter in her hair, forcing her to look at him.

“No, Bella baby. You wouldn't. Actually, no one can save you now. Your family thought they could pass through me and get away,” Hunter murmured, his voice like silk over steel. “They thought they could run from the debt. Tell me, Bella, do you know how much your brother’s little games cost him? Cost you?”

Her breath hitched. She hated him. She hated that he was dragging her deceased family into this, and hated that he could see the flicker of fear in her eyes. All she ever hoped for was a normal life, but would she ever have it?

“Don’t you dare bring…”

“Don’t I dare?” he cut in, his tone a mockery. “You’re sitting in my lap, darling, and still pretending you’ve got teeth. You should be grateful that I haven’t bitten down yet.”

Her whole body flushed hot. She pushed harder against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His body was solid, immovable, every muscle coiled beneath the fine suit. Her struggles only seemed to feed him.

He leaned closer, lips brushing her ear, voice a devil’s whisper.

“I could take you right here, and Tobias wouldn’t blink. My driver wouldn’t flinch. You’d cry, you’d beg, and no one would stop me.”

Her stomach lurched, fury and panic tangling into a knot. She hates to admit, but she knew he was right. These were his men, even if they weren't, he had so much power that he could do whatever he wanted and no one would dare stand to challenge him.

Then, as abruptly, he released her hair and loosen the grip he had on her.

She scrambled back to the far corner of the seat, her chest heaving, her eyes burning with unshed tears and hate. Hunter simply leaned back again, smug, composed like he wasn't just holding and sniffing her just now. His gaze fixed on her like a predator who had tasted enough…for now.

She crossed her arms over her chest, as though she was shielding herself from harm, refusing to speak, refusing to give him another inch of her voice so as not to draw his attention. Her focus stayed focused on Hunter, afraid he would reach out and grab her again.

He reached out again and pressed a button and the barrier came down. “Drive,” he ordered.

She noticed the man outside bowing slightly as the car lurched forward.

The silence was suffocating.

The car hummed softly as the driver eased it onto the dimly lit street. The city was quiet. But inside the vehicle it was suffocatingly quiet and hot.

Her chest rose and fell sharply, the lingering imprint of his hands still heavy on her skin, her scalp tingling where his fingers had knotted into her hair. Every nerve in her body screamed for space, for escape, yet she sat pinned by more than just his presence. His scent—wood smoke, leather, and something darker—still clung to her like a curse.

“You should be grateful I didn’t take what I wanted right there,” Hunter’s voice broke the silence, deep and velvet-lined, but with the unmistakable blade of danger underneath. His eyes lingered on her lips, then traced down to where her hands nervously clenched the hem of her short skirt. “I waited long enough. Don’t test how patient I really am.”

Her head whipped toward him, anger sparking despite the trembling in her chest. “I don’t owe you anything.” Her voice was firm, but not steady. “Whatever my brother did, whatever debt my family owes you…that has nothing to do with me personally. You can't take a person just because you want you money back. For your money, I will work hard to pay you back.”

Hunter chuckled, the sound low and unhurried. It made her insides twist with an emotion she couldn’t name. His hand reached out, not fast, but deliberate, fingers grazing her knee. She flinched, pressing herself against the door, but the car was wide and still it wasn’t wide enough to escape him.

“It has everything to do with you,” he said softly, almost tenderly, though his words carried venom. “Your brother made choices, but you… you’re the payment I’m interested in.”

Her jaw locked. “You’re sick.”

His lips curved into a smile, cold and hungry. “Obsessed, maybe. Sick? You’ll find out soon enough. But it doesn’t change the fact that I always get what I want. And what I want…” he leaned closer, his breath brushing hot against her cheek “—is sitting right in my car, trying so hard to pretend she doesn’t feel it too.”

Her heart hammered. She hated the way her body betrayed her, the way his nearness lit a fire she didn’t ask for. His eyes, dark and glinting like sharpened steel, drank in every flicker of emotion she tried to suppress. He thrived on it, the struggle, the resistance. “You are far older than me, what would you possibly want with a kid?"

"A kid huh. A kid wouldn't work in a place like Devil's Den, a kid wouldn't be out late by this time, a kid would not possess a body like yours. You were a kid back then,” he said dismissively. “Tell the driver where to take you,” he ordered suddenly, leaning back with the kind of confidence that came from knowing he already controlled the board.

“I don't want to.” The refusal left her lips sharp and quick, her small rebellion.

Hunter’s laughter filled the space again, louder this time. He tilted his head, watching her with the leisure of a predator playing with prey. He loved how clueless she was. “You think I don’t know where you live?” His gaze flicked toward the tinted glass, and then back to her. “I’ve known everything about you since the day your father crossed paths with me.”

She looked at him like he lost his mind. She didn't believe him. Because how could a girl like her have drawn his attention so much that he checks in on her daily activities.

The driver gave a polite cough, his eyes fixed on the road, as though he hadn’t heard a word.

Hunter shifted again, his knee brushing hers, his arm spreading across the back of the seat. His presence swallowed every inch of distance she thought she had. “You moved into a new apartment, few days ago. Cute.” He angled his face toward hers, his lips a whisper from her ear. “There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you.”