Chapter Sixty Three.

“Don’t worry. She’ll live, *Tesoro*.” Marco said coolly, slipping his gun into his coat.

Xena’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing into a glare. He smirked at the fire in her gaze.

“Who the hell are you? What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, voice trembling with rage.

Marco merely tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. With a casual flick of his fingers, he signaled his men to take Anya.

“Hey! Back off! Don’t touch her—” Xena moved to shield her friend, panic swelling in her chest.

“If she doesn’t get medical attention in the next ten minutes, she bleeds out,” he said flatly, cutting her off. His tone was cold, merciless.

Xena froze.

She watched helplessly as his men lifted Anya’s unconscious body and disappeared into the shadows.

“I need to go with her.” she said, her voice cracking, but her tone still strong. She tried to follow, but Marco stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

She instinctively took a step back.

“I *need* to go with her,” she repeated, almost pleading.

Marco smiled again, but it wasn’t kind. There was something twisted in the curve of his lips, something that made the air feel colder.

“She’ll be fine, *Tesoro*.” he said, voice dipped in honey and poison.

Xena’s eyes flared. “Don’t call me that.”

“Feisty,” Marco mused with a soft laugh. “Just like you were back then.”

Xena stiffened. *Back then?*

Her voice dropped, laced with dread. “What do you want from me? Who *are* you?”

He looked at her for a long beat, then sighed—as though the answer was obvious. “My name is Marco Bellini,” he said, his jaw clenching tightly. He took another step closer, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.

“And I want what’s mine.”

His eyes darkened, a glint of something dangerous flickering in their depths.

Xena’s heart skipped. She stepped back again, her voice faltering. “M-Mr. Marco B-Bellini… w-we don’t have anything of yours… w-we were just—”

Marco’s laughter cut her off. Rich. Low. Cruel.

“Oh, *Xena,*” he drawled. “Let me make it simple.”

He leaned in slightly, voice soft and terrifying. “*You* are what’s mine.”

Xena’s breath caught.

Her blood ran cold.

**Meanwhile...**

**Inside the jet...**

Viktor paced inside the jet like a caged animal, fury simmering just beneath the surface. His fists were clenched, his jaw locked so tight it ached.

“What the *hell* happened to Anya?!” Viktor roared, slamming his fist against the cabin wall, the sound echoing through the jet.

Mikhail flinched slightly but kept his composure. “Viktor… you need to calm down. Sit. We’re still in the air.”

“*Calm down?*” Viktor snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “They went to a fucking club, Mikhail! Dressed Xena up like—like some damn target!” he hissed, pacing like a predator barely leashed.

“She’s not like that. She’s not made for that world, and she sure as fuck isn’t made for the eyes of creeps licking their lips at her!”

“I know..” Mikhail said quietly. “But Anya thought—”

“I don’t give a *damn* what Anya thought!” Viktor barked. His eyes were wild, his breathing uneven. “what if she falls into trouble??”

Mikhail stayed quiet. He knew better than to interrupt this kind of storm.

“I swear to God…” Viktor muttered, running a hand down his face, voice now low and venomous. “If anyone touched her... if even *one hair* on her head is out of place, I will burn every street in this city to find her.”

There was a long silence.

Then Mikhail spoke, voice calm but grim. “We land in 30 minutes.”

Viktor’s jaw clenched. His voice dropped to a whisper that felt colder than any scream.

“Then someone has 30 minutes left to breathe.”

♧♧♧

Xena stumbled back, her eyes wide with fear. “W-What the fuck are you talking about?” she stammered, heart slamming against her ribs.

Marco just stared at her, that eerie smile stretching across his lips, calm... possessive.

“I don’t even know you! Is this some kind of a sick joke?” she snapped, voice rising as panic started to crack through her chest.

“Xena,” he murmured, stepping closer. “This isn’t a joke. It’s the one thing I don’t do. And you—” he paused, eyes glinting darkly, “you’re mine.”

Xena’s entire body went cold. “Hell no! You crazy—psychopathic bastard!” she yelled and spun around, ready to bolt.

But he was faster.

Marco lunged, grabbing her arm and yanking her back so hard she nearly lost her footing.

“No! No, let me go! LET ME GO!” she screamed, struggling with everything she had as tears blurred her vision.

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even budge.

“After waiting this long…” Marco whispered, voice deep and obsessive, “I’m not letting you go, *Tesoro*.”

Before she could react, he pulled something from his coat—a white cloth. In one smooth motion, he pressed it over her nose and mouth.

Xena thrashed violently, kicking and hitting his chest with weak fists.

“Mmmf! No—n-no… Viktor… please…” her thoughts begged desperately as her legs gave out, her vision turning hazy.

The last thing she saw before darkness swallowed her was Marco’s face... smiling.

And then everything went black.

He caught her limp body effortlessly in his arms, cradling her like something precious. He looked down at her, brushing her hair from her face with reverence.

“Finally,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, “you’re mine again.”

Marco carried her away from the alley, where a black car was already waiting at the next street. He slid into the back seat with her nestled in his arms.

The door shut.

And the car drove off into the night.

♧♧♧

Viktor and Mikhail stormed down the steps of the jet, the wind tousling Viktor’s dark hair as he marched toward the waiting car, his jaw clenched tight with fury.

But just as he reached for the door, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He yanked it out. “Speak!” he barked.

“S-Sir…” a hesitant voice came through the line. “Miss Xena… she’s missing.”

Viktor stopped in his tracks. His entire body went still.

“What?” he growled, eyes narrowing like a predator sensing blood.

“We… we found Miss Anya at the hospital. She was shot in the shoulder but she’s stable now,” the man said quickly, then hesitated.

“Spit it out!” Viktor shouted.

“It’s Marco, sir… He took Miss Xena.”

Silence.

The line went quiet—but not because the call had dropped.

Viktor’s hand slowly lowered from his ear as the fury began to rise… a darkness so cold and deadly, Mikhail took an instinctive step back.

Viktor’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his phone. His jaw twitched. His eyes… they were pure hell.

“Marco,” he repeated, his voice a whisper of death. Then he let out a low, dangerous laugh, one that chilled Mikhail to the bone.

“He just signed his death sentence.”