Chapter 283: Fatal Attraction
Alison was dishevelled and panicked. Yet, an unknown force propelled her into a sudden sprint, quickly leaving Pierre behind.
He reached out, but clutched his abdomen instead, breathless with pain.
Wiping sweat from his forehead, he pulled out his phone and called his men.
“That bitch got away — seal every exit! Find her and bring her to the penthouse. And call a doctor!” he barked into the phone.
Alison ran frantically, having lost her handbag somewhere along the way. Her skin was scratched by branches as she retreated, leaving behind red, stinging marks. The pain from these scrapes, however, brought her back to her senses slightly.
One thought burned fiercely in her mind: I can’t be caught.
A figure swayed in the distance.
Oh God, could it be Pierre’s men?
She spun around in panic and fled in another direction. But before she could take a few steps, dark figures appeared before her again.
She was surrounded.
She stopped and scanned her surroundings for an escape route.
The sedative surged through her bloodstream, twisting her breath into short, uneven gasps.
Her body trembled, caught between weakness and panic.
Her knees buckled as dizziness and a wave of heat swept over her.
The world tilted; heat pulsed through her veins, turning every breath into a struggle.
Shapes blurred at the edge of her vision—someone was there, moving toward her.
She tried to focus, but her limbs wouldn’t obey.
The drug dulled her senses and left her disoriented.
She clung to the rough bark for balance, trying desperately to stay upright.
Through the haze, a firm hand caught hers.
It smelled faintly of the outdoors—cold air, leaves, and rain—steadying her just enough to keep her from falling.
“Mmm… uh… ah…” Her mind was lost in the haze of heat and confusion.
Every nerve in her body seemed to ache for something—someone—to hold on to.
When the man’s hand found hers, the touch sent a shiver racing through her.
She leaned into him instinctively, her breath catching as their bodies brushed.
His fingers brushed her lips, quieting the sound that trembled from her throat.
The warmth of his skin and the faint scent of rain and cedar made her dizzy.
He drew her close, and she melted against the solid strength of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek.
Without a word, he swept her into his arms and moved through the shadows of the garden, his breath ragged, his restraint fraying with every step.
“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice rough and low—half desire, half fury at himself for wanting her this much.
Alison, half-conscious, didn’t realize what was happening and barely reacted.
Ahead of them loomed a high stone wall, glinting faintly with coils of barbed wire.
The man stopped, his breath sharp in the cold night air. In one swift motion, he pulled off his coat and tossed it over the wall, the fabric catching the moonlight as it fell.
“Hold on,” he murmured. His voice was low, steady, almost tender.
Before she could respond, he lifted her effortlessly into his arms. The world tilted as he vaulted upward, his strength carrying them both over the barrier. They landed hard but safe, cushioned by the heavy coat beneath them.
For a heartbeat, they stayed there—her trembling against his chest, his hand still at her back. Then, with quiet precision, he reached up, pulled the coat free determined to remove traces of Pierre.
By the time Matthew reached the garden, she was gone—swept away into the darkness by a stranger.
Everything she’d planned collapsed in that single night.
The man moved quickly, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. When they reached the mouth of a deserted alley, he stopped just long enough to wrap his coat tightly around her trembling body, shielding her from the cold and from curious eyes.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, frustration and worry tangled in his tone.
She stirred weakly in his arms, a soft sound escaping her lips—a mix of pain and confusion.
“Shh…” he whispered, holding her closer.
Her head rested against his shoulder as he strode through the empty streets, his jaw tight, the night echoing with the distant hum of the city and the thunder of his heartbeat.
Finally, they emerged from the alley, and a gleaming black came into view.
The man exhaled in relief, gently settling Alison across the motorcycle seat before swinging one leg over to straddle it.
For a brief moment, he glanced down at her—disheveled, vulnerable, and heartbreakingly beautiful—then gripped the handlebars and gunned the engine into the night leaving Pierre’s relentless pursuers swallowed by the night.
The wind howled past their ears, and Alison’s breathing came in shallow, frightened bursts.
The motorcycle roared through the night, but the rush of wind did nothing to cool the fire coursing through her veins.
Her body trembled against his, every breath quick and shallow. Instinctively, her hand brushed against him, and the touch sent a jolt through them both.
In the freezing air, the moment burned even hotter.
He drew in a sharp breath, fighting for control as his pulse thundered in his ears. Then, with a growl that was half frustration, half desire, he twisted the throttle—sending the motorcycle surging faster into the darkness, as if speed alone could drown the storm between them.
“Thud!” The bike finally came to a halt.
It was a dead end behind the high-rises on Main Street in S City, a slum-like area where old buildings were rented out to migrants who had come to the city.
The man bent down to pick up Alison.
Spotting two figures emerging from the building entrance, he instinctively pulled her closer while tugging her clothes down to cover her legs.
“Gabriel,” one of the men grinned wickedly, stepping closer with a mocking grin. “Didn’t think you were the type to bring home company. Let’s see what she looks like.”
Gabriel’s eyes flashed as he raised a hand to stop him, his voice calm but edged with warning.
“Don’t touch her,” he said evenly. “We’ll see after I’m done with her.”