Chapter 150
Chapter 150
Elena’s POV:
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I recoiled, twisting my head away sharply. The mere thought of any part of me touching him sent a wave of visceral revulsion through me. My skin crawled.
He scoffed. “Why? Why you ask, Elena? You didn’t even feel an ounce of regret, did you? Not a single pang of conscience. I was your fiancé. We were going to get married, build a future. All you had to do was look the other way, just once, just for a moment, and everything would have gone perfectly. We would have gotten married… I would have never made that mistake again, never strayed from you… BUT NO! You, in your self–righteous purity, married Nikolai, the man who was supposed to be my enemy.” His voice climbed, cracking with a desperate, unhinged frustration. Then, a chilling, bitter laugh bubbled up from his throat. “And then you even left him. That’s when it truly hit me…
- oh. It’s you who’s the problem. You’re not even the least bit loyal, are you? One day it’s me. The next it’s Lazar. Then Nikolai… Malakai… Haruki… how many more, Elena?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I winced, the words burning with outrage. He was insane. Truly, utterly, insane. Did he really think everyone operated with his twisted, self–serving logic? I wanted to laugh at his delusional self.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Elena…” he hissed, his eyes dark, roaming slowly, over my body. My breath hitched in my throat, held captive by a sudden fear. I wasn’t showing that much in my loose clothing. But that didn’t mean it was impossible to tell if you looked close enough, if you knew what you were searching for. Especially for him, who had known my physique, my body, intimately.
A horrible, sickening feeling washed over me. If he found out I was pregnant, if he realized I was carrying Nikolai’s child… he might just actually kill me. Not that he wouldn’t anyway, given the cold, murderous glint in his eyes.
“It irritates me, you know?” He said, his voice dropping, almost conversational. I frowned, a tremor running through me.
I didn’t need to ask for clarification; he kept going, his voice building in intensity. Without warning, he reached out, his hand clamping around my neck, just below my jawline. He pulled me up onto my trembling legs, using my neck as leverage, as if I were nothing but a lifeless doll, a puppet on his strings. My feet scrabbled for purchase on the deck.
“Dmitri!” I hissed in pain, my voice a strangled whisper.
“ELENA!” He snarled in return, his voice a guttural roar, startling me with its raw power. He released my neck only to grab my chin, his fingers digging in, forcing my head up. He took in a sharp, ragged inhale, his gaze sweeping over my face.
“It irritates me that even now… even now, after everything you’ve done, after all my father has said, I don’t want to do this to you, I don’t want you to die, Elena. I don’t want to see you cry, or hurt you.” He said, his voice a low, tormented whisper, laced with a terrifying self–pity that made my blood run cold. His words were a sickening contradiction to the vice–like grip on my chin, the pain in my neck, the cold,
murderous intent in his eyes. My heart beat faster.
“Then… don’t.” I whispered, my voice barely audible, trying to inject a desperate plea. My hands and legs were trembling, not just from the
cold, but from sheer terror.
“Don’t what, Elena?” He whispered back, moving closer, his breath hot against my face, his eyes searching mine with a disturbing intensity.
“Don’t… kill me…” I whispered, my voice cracking. Then, with a sudden, violent jerk of my leg, a movement born of pure adrenaline and survival instinct, I twisted my torso with all my might and hammered my knee into his side, aiming for his ribs. “You die instead!” Fury spiked through me, raw and unadulterated, and I screamed the words.
He groaned in pain as he stumbled back, his body momentarily unbalanced by the unexpected blow. His hand shot out, grasping wildly for the railing of the yacht, barely managing to catch himself before he toppled overboard. I didn’t wait. The moment his grip loosened, the moment he faltered, I turned and sprinted towards the other side of the deck, my bare feet slapping against the polished surface.
I’d seen weapons there, small tools and equipment lying haphazardly on a utility table when my blindfold had first come off. I just needed to
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14:18 Wed, 13 Aug 0
Chapter 150
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grasp one, anything I could use. I made sure not to lose sight of him from the corner of my eyes, expecting him to surge forward at any second. As soon as my gaze found what I was looking for a sharp, gleaming knife, likely used for fishing or cutting ropes- lunged for it, my fingers closing around the cold hilt. With a desperate, practiced movement, I turned my body, using the knife’s edge to saw furiously at the ropes still binding my hands, the rough fibers tearing with agonizing slowness.
My hands trembled violently, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins, as I watched him turn, his face contorted with cold fury, and begin to walk purposefully over to me. He wasn’t running. No. He was walking, a slow, terrifying pace, like he knew I couldn’t escape, like he was toying with me. And in that moment, he was right. Where could I even go right now?
Nowhere. I was stuck on this damn yacht, a tiny, isolated speck in the vast, indifferent ocean. No one else was inside, just this white boat, no doors leading to escape, no hidden rooms for sanctuary. It was small enough for him to reach me in the few moments it took for me to even finish my thought. The ropes finally gave way with a frantic snap, freeing my wrists.
I brought my hand forward, clutching the knife I had just used to cut my bondage, and thrust it at him, a desperate, clumsy lunge. He easily dodged it, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
His hands moved to grab my knife–wielding hand, but I used my feet, kicking out swiftly, aiming for his shins, forcing him to stumble back. This time, though, I couldn’t hit him as hard; he barely budged, already anticipating my movements. Of course, the element of surprise was gone. But I wasn’t just some helpless damsel in distress.
My eyes darted around and my gaze landed on the heavy, metal hilt of what looked like a gun on the same utility table. I snatched it up, my fingers closing around the cold, substantial grip, and without hesitation, slammed it with all my might against the side of his head as he lunged again, grabbing my arm.
He hissed and pulled back, releasing my arm, clutching his head.
That was my chance. I aimed the gun in my trembling hands, directly at his chest. “Stop! Or I will shoot, Dmitri.” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, firm, despite the frantic beating of my heart. He went still, his eyes narrowing, assessing me.
And then, he laughed, a short. “Do you even know how to use that thing, Elena?” He questioned, a mocking challenge in his voice.
I smiled slowly, my thumb finding the small, metallic safety catch and flicking it off with a satisfying click.
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