Page 60 of Marked By His Touch
Alexander moves with a speed and ferocity that is both terrifying and exhilarating. I watch as he slams into the man, his fists connecting with a sickening thud, the sounds of bone cracking and flesh tearing filling the air. He keeps pounding, his fists a blur of motion, until the man falls silent, his body limp and lifeless on the floor.
Alexander doesn’t hesitate. He turns, his gaze locking onto me, his expression fierce. He sweeps me into his arms, his body a bastion of strength against the darkness surrounding us.
“We’re almost there,” he pants. He sprints down the hallway, his movements powerful.
He carries me through the maze of corridors where the scent of smoke and blood lingers in the air. As we round the corner, we’re met with a chilling sight.
Nikolai stands at the entrance to the bridge, his face a mask of fury, his eyes gleaming. His men surround him, their guns raised at us, their faces indifferent, their eyes cold and calculating.They have been waiting for us.
Their eyes lock, Alexander and Nikolai’s. It’s a collision of ice and fire. The air between them thunders like a storm brewing on the horizon, each breath a crackle of electricity.
“You not take what belong—me,” Nikolai growls. “Give me,Anya.”
“I don’t belong to anyone!” I spit.
He scoffs, shaking his head from side to side, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “But you do,Anya. You were promised to me, tomoyafamily.”
Alexander, his jaw tight, steps forward. “By what law? Russian mafia law?”
Nikolai chuckles a cold, mirthless sound. “You do not know that your lovely lady is mine?Anya Petrov,is real name—not Ava Parker. Her parents owed my family, and when it was time to pay with the life of their firstborn— they took ship to the America. A debt never forgot—never forgiven.”
He glances down at my shoulder. “See? He can not—take care of you,Anya.”
I feel a cold shiver run through me as the blood from my shoulder trickles down my back, a cold, wet stain against my skin.
Alexander’s eyes widen, and his fists clench and unclench in a rhythmic pattern. He grunts a low, guttural sound but doesn’t speak.
I watch him. He’s so strong, so fierce, yet this new information has struck him to the core. It’s a blow to his pride, a challenge to his strength. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to fight this.
After a moment, he speaks. “It doesn’t matter, Ava orAnya, who cares? She’s her own person and doesn’t belong to anyone unless she chooses to.”
His words are a ray of light. I need to belong to him, to Alexander. I've always known it, felt it in my very core. Now, more than ever, I need him.
“You’re all– how you say? Noble warrior? But you stupid—come alone, fool,idiyot,” Nikolai hisses.
My gaze darts to the door behind Nikolai, where the bridge is, searching for any sign of Harvey, of Alexander’s allies. I realize then, with certainty, that Nikolai doesn’t know. He doesn’t know Harvey is on board, and we have an advantage.
“Grab them,” Nikolai commands.
The men behind him spring into action, their movements precise, and their faces are stern. They move towards us, their guns raised.
Alexander’s hand reaches for mine, his fingers tightening around mine. “I’m not going to let them take you,” he says, his gaze locked onto mine, a promise in his eyes.
He pulls me close in his arms, his body a shield against the impending storm.
The world seems to shrink, focusing on the danger ahead. Alexander puts me down on the floor behind him, using his body as a shield against the onslaught.
“Ava, get out of here,” he says firmly.
I shake my head. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
Without warning, the men open fire, their shots echoing through the corridor. I hear the whistling of bullets and the sharp sting of hot metal against the metal railing. I see the flash of light and feel the blast of heat as a bullet whizzes past my cheek.
“Get down! To the side!” Alexander roars, shoving me out the door towards the deck. There’s an opening in the railing there. The force of his push sends me sprawling, my injured shoulder screaming in pain.
A gun battle erupts. Alexander fires back with a new set of bullets; his aim is sharp, and his movements are precise. But he’s outnumbered. He’s a lion facing a pack of wolves.
I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding. I'm no soldier, but I’m also no ragdoll. The adrenaline coursing through my veins pushes me forward. I grab a heavy metal pipe that sits on the railing; its cold, steel surface lies in my non-injured hand.
