Chapter 52 Cornered By The Devil

Chapter 52 Cornered By The Devil
(AURIANNA’S POV)

I go completely still.

For a second, I genuinely think my brain is malfunctioning—like it’s showing me some glitchy hallucination because there’s no way in hell the man standing behind me right now is actually real.

But he is.

Dominik D’Angelo, in a white suit with his red hair slicked back. And two massive men are standing on either side of him.

My blood runs cold.

My heart slams against my ribs hard enough that it almost hurts, and the first person that comes to my mind isn’t myself….

It's Zayne.

Zayne’s out there alone.

Panic flashes so violently through my chest that it knocks the air out of me.

I turn back to the sink like an idiot checking my reflection for answers, my hands instantly patting my sides, my thigh, my purse—

My purse isn't here.

I left it with Zayne and my gun’s inside!

“Shit,” I whisper, staring down at my empty hands. “Shit—shit—shit.”

Dominik’s reflection lifts his chin slightly. A slow, satisfied smirk curves the corner of his mouth.

“It’s finally nice to meet you,” he says.

I turn around to face him, forcing my voice steady. “And why is that?”

He lets out a low chuckle, stepping just enough into the light for me to see the glint in his hazel eyes.

“Remember Natasha?”

I stiffen.

“She was a trained assassin,” he continues casually. “Skilled in six martial arts. One of my best. Yet you singlehandedly took her down along with three of my men.” 

He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a rare animal behind glass. “I admit… I was impressed.”

His smirk turns into a grin.

“Aurianna Astranova,” he murmurs. “I’ve been watching you.”

For a second, I forget how to breathe.

“…What?”

He steps closer with his hands folded behind his back.

“You escort Zayne to drop off his daughter at school every morning. You follow him around at work, shadow him to every location. You never leave his side at all.”

“So I had my people look into you,” he says, shrugging lightly. “O.A.S.I.S., hm? Interesting little organization. And lucky Zayne, hiring you to protect him.”

“Oh, and I also know where he lives,” Dominik adds.

My heart almost stops beating altogether. “That… that’s not true,” I say, shaking my head. “If you really knew, you would’ve already done something.”

Dominik smiles—a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Attacking a man while he sleeps in the comfort of his home at night? Where’s the fun in that? I prefer a chase… A rush…. Adrenaline.”

His voice drops. “I like the hunt.”

“So that’s why you’re here?” I ask hoarsely.

“Yes, I'm here to kill Zayne with my bare hands,” Dominik answers plainly. “But first, I want to make sure you don’t get in my way.”

My instincts scream at me to move.

I don’t hesitate. I quickly grab the skirt of my pencil gown and I rip it clean up my thigh. I plant my feet firmly on the ground and raise my fists.

“Bring it on,” I growl.

Dominik’s men step forward immediately, but he lifts a single finger without looking at them.

“Let me handle this,” he says.

He steps toward me and I swing. He dodges easily. I swing again. He tilts back again, dodging the hit.

I fake high and when he shifts, I drive my fist straight into his gut.

He staggers back, clutching his stomach as he doubles over. But then, he straightens, veins popping on his forehead as he glares at me.

Oh, that pissed him off.

I swing my fist at his face but he catches it mid-air, grabs my other arm, and flings me so hard into a bathroom stall door that it I hit the ground.

I quickly spring to my feet and somersault, my heel connects with his jaw, snapping his head sideways.

As he stumbles, I sweep my leg and knock him clean off his feet. He hits the floor hard.

I mount him, ready to strike but punches me across the face so fast I barely see it. Pain explodes behind my eye as I’m thrown off him. He gets to his feet, breathing hard.

I spit blood onto the tile and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Okay,” I mutter. “Round two.”

We run at each other.

He throws a punch and I block it, grab his arm, catch a fistful of his hair, and slam his head into the bathroom mirror.

It shatters as Dominik staggers, gripping the sink for support, blood sliding down the side of his face.

He looks at his men and screams. “Well don't just stand there, get her!”

Both of them run at me.

I punch one but he catches my fist. As I try to pull my hand free, the other one tries to grab me and I kick him in the stomach. He grunts, stumbling back—but the first one yanks my arm so hard pain shoots up my shoulder.

Then he headbutts me and everything goes blurry. My vision doubles, then triples and I start to lose balance.

“Fuck—” I gasp, clutching my head.

They grab me, pinning my arms behind me and forcing me to the floor. I thrash, kicking, twisting—but my strength is quickly bleeding out.

One pulls out handcuffs.

“No!” I struggle harder, but they force my arm under the sink and cuff my wrist to the pipes.

Dominik wipes blood from his temple, staring at his fingers then at me.

“You okay, boss?” one of the men asks.

“I’m fine,” Dominik snaps. “Now move. We’ve got shit to do.”

His men turn and leave. Dominik walks to the door then stops. He turns back to look at me for a moment.

I can barely hold his gaze as my head is still spinning.

He turns and walks out, shutting the door behind them.

I exhale shakily, my heart still beating so violently it hurts.

Zayne…

Zayne is out there alone, and Dominik is going after him right now.

Panic rushes through me. I grab the cuff, pulling, twisting, yanking—the metal slices into my skin instantly. Blood starts running down my wrist.

“Come on,” I breathe. “Come on come on come on!”

But nothing happens. It won’t budge.

I slump for half a second, trying to catch my breath, my eyes darting around the bathroom desperately.

There has to be something, anything I can use to free myself.

Then I see it.

A bottle of liquid soap on the sink.

Hope shoots through me like electricity.

I quickly reach for it, but it's too far. I push harder despite the pain from the cuffs cutting deeper into my skin.

My fingers brush it for a second before it tips and falls, rolling out of reach.

“FUCK!” I snap, slamming my palm onto the tile.

I can hear my heart pounding in my ears now.

I stretch my leg as far as I can, my heel scraping the floor, inching toward the bottle.

I finally nudge it toward me a bit. I stretch as far as the cuffs will allow me, edging it closer and closer, until I finally hook it with my heel and drag it toward me. I grab it with my free hand instantly.

I squeeze soap onto my wrist until it’s slippery, slick, stinging the cuts. I rub it quickly, twist, and pull until my hand starts sliding out of the cuffs little by little.

“Come on,” I grit my teeth as I squeeze more soap onto the cuffs, twisting and pulling until my hand finally slips free. 

I suck in a sharp breath and stumble back, holding my bleeding wrist.

That’s when I hear it…

A gunshot.

My heart stops.

“Zayne…”