Chapter 63

CZAR

I should have stayed home with Devika. But I got too confident. I got better at fighting, but that doesn't mean I was equipped for operations like the stunt I just pulled off. Maybe they were right; I'm still and will always be a liability to my husband. I'm not the wife that the capo needs. Sibley and Devika also got hurt because of my actions.

But I also can't just sit still. I saw an opportunity and took a gamble. If I hadn't tried, I'd regret it too. I'm not a wife who'll just wait at home. I'm his partner, not his pet.

I grabbed the pillow beside me and hugged it. I lay my head on it and breathed in his scent. This way, I could give myself the illusion that I'm resting on his chest and he's beside me. But it still wasn't enough.

The pillow wasn't as tall, muscular, and warm as him. The pillow can't cocoon me in its arms because it doesn't have any. I wouldn't feel him everywhere.

Eiran worked faster than I'd anticipated. I'm starting to get bored with Monteval's company.

Monteval's men are dumb. Just because I've surrendered deadly weapons doesn't mean I'm unarmed. For example, there's a tracker on the heel of my shoe and a micro earpiece.

"4 minutes to get out of the plane, Czar," Eiran instructed. I could hear Adonis grunting beside him. He's still sour about not knowing about the plan beforehand, even though that plan was made last minute while we were on our way to rescue my wife.

I tapped my foot on the floor while contemplating how I'll escape. I heard liquid being poured; they must be drinking wine.

"I need to take a piss," I announced. These fucking binds and blindfolds are nothing but accessories; they don't make me weaker than them.

The people inside the plane went silent. I shrugged.

"Or I could just pee here on the spot," I suggested. "For better presentation, I'll aim right at your faces when I do it. I'm an excellent shot whether I'm holding a gun or my dick, and whether blindfolded or not."

Limited senses don't restrict me. In fact, they heighten my senses even more. I can't see them, but I can feel where each person on this plane is.

Disgusted, Pascal had some of his men escort me to the restroom. I closed the toilet lid and placed my foot on it. I reached inside my shoe for my multitool lighter and easily broke the rope. I removed my blindfold and adjusted to the sudden brightness.

I pressed the toilet flush and then waited for them to open the door to retrieve me.

The moment they did, I burned the man's face and stole his gun. I shot the other who approached without hesitation.

The groans and screams drew attention. Before they could pull out their guns and investigate, I shot five in a row, hitting bull's-eye every time.

I sensed a presence behind me. I knew what would happen, but I gambled and shot at the man in front of me as fast as I could before being attacked by the man behind me.

But I didn't get the chance to turn. I was kicked and pinned to the ground.

I gathered all my strength and hit his face with my head. Using the seats on both sides of the aisle, I lifted myself up and kicked the men in the face. I sensed the last man about to pull the trigger, so I went down as he shot and missed. From my position, I shot him, and he fell onto his back.

Some of them weren't dead yet and could still stand. I rushed toward the plane's door and opened it when I felt cold metal pressed against the back of my head.

"Comply or die."

He wouldn't shoot me. If he intended to, he wouldn't have given me an option.

"I wonder why you didn't kill me before running to this door. Scared because I look too much like our father? You were desperate for his approval then."

Ridiculous. I was the one who sent that old man to his grave. Killing him a second time through his golden boy would be a pleasure.

I slumped my shoulders to appear as if surrendering, then slowly turned around.

"That attempt didn't go well, did it?" I said coolly, faking disappointment. "At least I tried. And look, it's just you and me."

His eyes darted to his soldiers, all knocked out, before throwing me an annoyed glare.

"No one to drink with? I'll join you if it will make you feel better."

"Thirty seconds, Czar," Eiran reminded me through the earpiece. I doubted I managed to fight all of Monteval's soldiers in three minutes and thirty seconds. The four minutes he gave me were already up minutes ago. He wouldn't do anything until I'm out of this plane, so I didn't pay much attention to his warning.

Three of Monteval's soldiers managed to get up and limped behind their boss.

"I'll comply." Then I kneeled on one knee. The four of them, including Pascal, pointed guns at me. I raised my arms.

"Just tying my laces, gentlemen."

I pulled out my spare lighter from my other shoe. Looking out of the plane's door, I caught sight of a rescue ladder hanging from a chopper and gasoline being poured on Monteval's private plane.

"Now."

"Goodbye, fucker," I lit the lighter, threw it somewhere they couldn't easily locate it, and jumped out of the plane as it burned. I heard Pascal barking orders but his men were useless to him.

Before I could grip the ladder, pain shot through my arms and side. I'd been shot.

I missed the rescue ladder completely and fell into the ocean. I tried to swim but my limbs felt heavy. It looked like I'd experience hell doubly: one, I'd literally be in hell; two, my sperm donor and his golden boy would be there too.

But my thoughts didn't linger too long on that; I wasn't even thinking about how I'm about to die. I'm not scared—death has been a constant threat since birth in this crime business.

What bothered me most was that I'd never get to keep my promise: to return to her. So as I slowly lost consciousness, I made another promise in my head.

She'd be my heaven when I'm in hell. Mi amor.

AVALINE

A warm and rough hand on my chin made me glance up. The outlines of Czar's face became sharper as his obvious displeasure radiated.

I blinked.

"Who?" His voice lowered.

"Huh?"

"I said which jerk had the power to occupy so much of your thoughts that you zoned out on me?"

"W-wala..."

He pressed me closer to him, his fingers digging deep into my waist. We're practicing my prom dance. The dance will be performed as a section. It wouldn't look good if Czar was my partner there. My classmates would find it odd that students from the same grade are participating together. So Czar and I had to compromise. He allowed me to partner with Eldridge only during the performance. But when we practice, it's Czar who's with me.

"You can do with him what you practiced with me," he reasoned. "You won't forget what you practiced just because your partner's face changes."

That's what is confusing me right now. He agreed to let Eldridge be my partner, but the next day, Eldridge suddenly backed out. He said he couldn't attend prom because of a family appointment. I know I'm being too presumptuous, but I can't shake the feeling that Czar had something to do with the sudden change.

And I don’t know how to feel. Should I be mad that he's so territorial over me, or should I be happy that what I feel may possibly not be one-sided? "Possibly" being the key word.

"Maybe it is me who should be demanding answers," I narrowed my eyes, but he was undeterred. He had the same expression, posture, and relaxed aura that I couldn't even judge whether he felt guilty. But I probably shouldn't place Czar in the same sentence with guilt. His conscience must have been defective since birth.

I hate how he can read me as clear as glass while I'm always met with a brick wall when it comes to him.

"For some reason, Eldridge is suddenly not able to make it to prom." I queried. "Perhaps it is the devil's work?"

He scoffed. "More of a miracle if you ask me."

"Czar, I don't have a partner for the dance! What's the point of all this practice if I can't perform?"

I wrenched away—or at least tried to. But he pinned my wrist so my hand would stay on his shoulders.

"You'll make me look pitiful and stupid out there!"

He only smirked and looked pleased with himself. I rolled my eyes.

"Stop rolling your eyes at me, Poet. You should be feeling uncomfortable being in my arms, not comfortable. What would your father think of you?"