Claim Me(Capture Me: Book 3)(8)

I lift my chin, meeting his gaze. “I’m eleven. I can do anything.”

“Bayu-bayushki-bayu, ne lozhisya na krayu…”

“It’s your fault, bitch.” Cruel hands seize me, dragging me into the darkness. “It’s all your fault.”

“Pridyot seren’kiy volchok, i ukusit za bochok…”

The melody trails off again, and I’m crying, crying and fighting as I fall deeper into the darkness.

“Tell me about the program.” Strong arms catch me, imprisoning me against a muscular male body. I know I should be terrified, but when I look up and meet the man’s pale gaze, I’m suffused with heat. His face is hard, every feature carved from stone, but his blue-gray eyes hold the kind of warmth I haven’t felt in years. There’s a promise of safety there, and something else.

Something I crave with all my soul.

“Lucas…” I’m filled with desperation as I reach for him. “Please fuck me. Please.”

He drives into me, his thick cock stretching me, spearing me, and the heat of him dispels the lingering coldness. I’m burning, and it’s not enough. I need more. “I love you,” I whisper, my nails digging into his muscled back. “I love you, Lucas.”

“Yulia.” His voice is cold and distant as he says my name. “Yulia, it’s time.”

“Please,” I beg, reaching for Lucas, but he’s already fading away. “Please don’t go. Stay with me.”

“Yulia.” A hand lands on my shoulder. “Wake up.”

Gasping, I sit up in bed and stare into Obenko’s cool hazel gaze. My heart is drumming in my throat, and I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat. Turning my head, I take in the sight of peeling wallpaper and gray light seeping through a dirty window. There’s no Lucas here, nobody to catch me in the darkness.

I’m in my bedroom at the safe house, where I must’ve fallen asleep before the debriefing.

“Was I… Did I say anything?” I ask, trying to get my shaky breathing under control. The dream is already fading from my memory, but the bits and pieces I recall are enough to knot my insides.

“No.” Obenko’s face is expressionless. “Should you have?”

“No, of course not.” My frantic heartbeat is beginning to slow. “Give me a minute to freshen up, and I’ll be right out.”

“All right.” Obenko walks out of my room, and I pull the blanket tighter around myself, desperate for what little comfort I can find.





13





Lucas



At the explosion of gunfire, I glance at the side mirror and see our guards in the SUVs shooting at the pursuing vehicles. A bullet dings against the side of our car, and I swerve, making the limo a more difficult target. In the back, Nora’s parents scream in panic, and Esguerra jumps off the seat to get to his weapons stash.

Fucking hell. My hands tighten on the wheel. This shouldn’t be happening. Not while we have civilians with us. Esguerra and I can handle this, but not Rosa and Nora—and certainly not Nora’s parents. If anything were to happen to them… I press harder on the gas pedal, pushing the speedometer past 100 miles per hour.

More gunfire. In the side mirror, I see our men exchanging fire with the pursuers. All the way in the back, one of Sullivan’s cars careens into one of ours, trying to force it off the road, and there’s another burst of gunfire before the pursuers’ SUV skids off the road and flips over.

Another car gains on one of our SUVs, smashing into its side. Behind it are at least a dozen vehicles—a mix of SUVs, vans, and Hummers with grenade launchers mounted on their roofs.

No, not a dozen.

They have as many as fifteen or sixteen cars versus eight of ours.

Motherfucking fuck. I push the gas pedal again, and the speedometer climbs to 110. We need to go faster, but the armored limo is too heavy. It’s built for protection, not speed.

One of our SUVs in the back flies up, exploding in mid-air. The blast is deafening, but I ignore it, all my attention on the road ahead. I can’t think about the men we just lost or their families.

If we’re to survive, I can’t afford the distraction.

“Lucas.” Rosa sounds panicked. “Lucas, that’s—”

“A police blockade, yes.” I have to raise my voice to be heard over the din of gunfire and explosions. There are four police cars blocking our way, and they’re surrounded by SWAT teams. They’re here for us—which means they must be in Sullivan’s pocket.

In the back, Julian is shouting something at Nora, and in the rearview mirror, I see him dragging out bulletproof vests and a handheld grenade launcher.

“We have to go through them,” I yell, keeping my foot on the gas. We’re seconds away now, rocketing toward the blockade at full speed. I aim the limo at the narrow gap between two police cars. For this, the heavy weight of the armored limo is an advantage.

“Hold on!” I shout at Rosa, and then we’re crashing into the cars, the impact of the collision throwing me forward. I feel the seatbelt cutting into me, hear the SWAT team’s bullets hitting the side and windows of our car, and then we’re through, the limo barreling ahead as two more cars behind us collide and explode.

Sullivan’s cars, I determine with relief a moment later. From what I can see in the side mirror, our SUVs are still intact. Beside me, Rosa is white with fear but seemingly uninjured.

Before I can catch my breath, I hear a deafening boom and see the police cruiser behind us fly up, exploding in the air. It lands on its side, burning, and one of Sullivan’s Hummers slams into it. There’s another explosion, followed by a Sullivan van careering off the road. I grin savagely as I catch sight of Esguerra standing in the middle of the limo, his head and shoulders sticking out of the opening in the roof.

My boss must be using the handheld grenade launcher from our stash.

There’s another explosive boom as he fires the next shot, but no enemy vehicle goes belly-up this time. Instead, one of the Hummers swerves, ramming into one of our SUVs, and I see the guards’ car flip over, rolling off the road.

Shit. My elation dissipates. Esguerra better get his aim straight, or we’re fucked.

As if in response to my thoughts, there’s another boom, followed by a Sullivan van exploding behind us. Two Sullivan SUVs crash into it, but my satisfaction is short-lived as I hear the ding of bullets against the side of our car. Swearing, I yank the wheel and begin zigzagging from side to side.

Unlike the limo, Esguerra’s head is not bulletproof.

“Come on, Esguerra,” I mutter, squeezing the wheel. “Fucking shoot them.”

Boom! Another Sullivan SUV explodes, taking out the one behind it in the process.

“He’s doing it,” Rosa says in a shaking voice. “They have only six cars left now.”

I steal a glance in the mirror and verify that she’s right. Six enemy vehicles versus five of ours.

We might make it yet.

Suddenly, I see a flash of fire in the mirror. Two of our SUVs fly up in the air, and I realize the Hummers took them out. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Come on, Esguerra.” My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. “Just fucking do it.”

Boom! One of the Hummers veers off the road, smoke rising from its hood.

“Señor Esguerra did it!” Rosa’s voice is filled with hysterical glee. “Lucas, he got it!”

I don’t have a chance to reply before one of the enemy cars swerves and crashes into another. Our men must’ve shot the driver.

“Three of them left, Lucas. Only three!” Rosa is all but jumping in her seat, and I realize she’s high on adrenaline. Past a certain point, one stops feeling fear, and it all becomes a game, a rush unlike any other. It’s what makes danger so addictive—for me, at least.

I feel most alive when I’m close to death.

Except that’s not true anymore, I realize with a jolt. The buzz is muted today, dulled by my worry for our civilians and my fury over our men’s deaths. Instead of excitement, there’s only a grim determination to survive.

To live so I can catch Yulia and feel alive in a whole different way.

“Lucas.” Rosa sounds tense all of a sudden. “Lucas, are you seeing that?”

“What?” I say, but then the sound reaches my ears.

It’s the faint but unmistakable roar of chopper blades.

“It’s a police helicopter,” Rosa says, her voice shaking again. “Lucas, why is there a helicopter?”

I floor the gas pedal instead of answering her. There are only two possibilities: either the authorities heard about what’s happening, or it’s more dirty cops. My money’s on the last one, which means we’re beyond fucked. By my calculations, Esguerra only has one shot left in that grenade launcher of his, and there’s no way he can take down that chopper.

“What are we going to do?” Rosa’s panic is evident. “Lucas, what are we—”

“Quiet.” I floor the pedal, focusing on the structure looming ahead of us. We’re almost to the private airport now, and if we can get inside, we stand a chance.

“I’m going for the hangar!” I yell to Esguerra, and take a sharp right turn toward the structure. At the same time, I floor the gas pedal, pushing the limo to its limits. We’re all but rocketing toward the hangar now, but the roar of the helicopter is getting inexorably louder.