Chapter 215
Aria's POV
My finger trembled on the trigger as I stared at the scene unfolding before me. Buzz Hamilton pressed his gun against Roman's temple, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
"Last chance," Buzz snarled. "Where's Kane hiding the chip technology?"
Roman's eyes, despite the blood trickling from the cut on his forehead, remained defiant. "Go to hell."
Buzz sighed theatrically. "Wrong answer." His finger tightened on the trigger.
I had a choice—hide in the walk-in closet and save myself, or risk everything for a man whose only purpose was to protect Devon. My heart hammered against my ribs as memories of Devon's hand guiding mine around the gun flooded back. Aim, exhale, then squeeze.
Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped out from behind the closet door and fired.
The bullet hit Buzz's thigh. He howled, his gun clattering to the floor. For a moment, the room froze in shock—none more than me. I'd actually shot someone.
The moment shattered when two of Buzz's men grabbed me, dragging me forward. Buzz recovered enough to deliver a stinging slap across my face. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as his ring caught my lip.
"You shouldn't have done that, princess," he hissed.
Roman struggled against his captors. "Ms. Harper, you should have stayed hidden." Despite his words, gratitude flashed in his eyes.
I stared directly at Buzz, tasting blood and fury. "You'd better hope Devon gets back soon. When he sees what you did to me, he'll make you wish you were dead."
Buzz laughed, but uncertainty flickered in his eyes. He motioned to his men. "Bring her. She's our ticket out of here now."
They dragged me through narrow corridors and up flights of stairs until we emerged onto the upper deck. The night air hit my face, carrying the scent of salt and danger. And there, lounging in a deck chair as if he were at a resort, sat Devon Kane.
His gray eyes were cold as ice, giving nothing away. Before him, suspended by ropes from a beam, hung his brother Connor, face bruised and swollen.
"Let him go, Kane!" Buzz shouted, pressing his gun to my temple. "Or your girlfriend gets a bullet through her pretty head."
Devon's gaze flickered over me, lingering on the red mark on my cheek and my split lip. For a split second, something dangerous flashed in his eyes before the mask of indifference returned.
"Don't waste your time," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I don't matter to him. I'm just a transaction, a business arrangement. This won't work."
Devon raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Harper is correct about one thing," he said, his voice deadly calm. "This won't work. Not because she doesn't matter—" his gaze locked with mine briefly, "—but because no matter who you bring as a hostage, you're not getting off this boat, Hamilton."
My heart skipped at his words, but I noticed his fists clenched tight against the armrest—the only sign that he wasn't as detached as he appeared.
"Then we all die together!" Buzz screamed, desperation breaking through his facade. He swung his gun toward Devon.
Lucas, Devon's security man, fired instantly. Chaos erupted. I felt a searing pain tear through my shoulder as a bullet grazed me. My white dress blossomed red, the stain spreading like a macabre flower.
Devon's expression transformed completely. The controlled businessman vanished, replaced by something primal and terrifying. He leapt to his feet with a roar that didn't sound human.
But Buzz, bleeding and desperate, grabbed me and plunged over the railing, dragging me with him into the dark Atlantic waters below.
The cold shocked my system. Salt water rushed into my nose and mouth as I struggled against Buzz's grip. My wounded shoulder screamed in agony with every movement, but survival instinct took over. I drove my elbow back hard into his wounded thigh. His grip loosened enough for me to break free.
I tried to swim, but each stroke sent waves of pain through my shoulder. Blood trailed in the water behind me, a dangerous beacon. My sodden dress weighed me down, and the cold was quickly numbing my limbs.
I'm going to die here, I realized with strange clarity. My thoughts turned to my mother's key, still unsolved mysteries, and oddly, to Devon. Had he ever cared at all, or was I truly just a contract to him?
As my consciousness began to slip away, the water above me parted. A figure sliced through the waves, powerful and determined. In the moonlight, I saw those gray eyes, fierce and focused, before darkness claimed me.
Thunder jolted me awake. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or what had happened. My shoulder throbbed dully, and I was lying on something soft but unfamiliar. Blinking away disorientation, I realized I was in some sort of cave, a crude bandage wrapped around my shoulder. A small fire crackled nearby, casting dancing shadows on stone walls.
The cave entrance darkened as a figure stepped inside. Devon, shirtless and dripping, carrying two fish speared on a makeshift wooden trident. His hair was still wet, plastered to his forehead, and several cuts marked his chest—battle wounds from our escape, I presumed.
"You're awake," he said simply, setting down the fish.
I tried to sit up, wincing at the pain. "Where are we?"
"Small island, uninhabited. The storm's made radio contact impossible." He knelt beside me, checking my bandage with surprising gentleness. "How's the pain?"
"Manageable," I lied, then asked the question burning in my mind. "Why did you save me? You could have let Buzz and me drown and protected your technology."
Devon was quiet for so long I thought he wouldn't answer. He sat on the edge of the makeshift bed, his fingers lightly tracing the outline of my cheek where Buzz had struck me. For once, his gray eyes weren't shuttered, and what I saw there made my breath catch.
"Because you're the only one who helps me sleep," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.