He watched, not resisting when she tried to help, as her face twisted in agony after watching the bullet embedded way further in his skin. She produced a medicinal kit from under the seat, quickly unboxing it on the driver's seat.
After wiping the excess blood she slowly pushed the forcep in his skin, getting a good grasp on the metal. As she slowly pulled it out, her eyes matched his, witnessing as he didn't so much as flinched, his eyes solely focused on her, in pursuit of discovering even a glimpse of love they had shared.
"Was all that a lie?" He whispered, his ragged breathe scanned her features, making the lose strands of her hair dance in the space between them.
Ignoring his tormenting plea, she quickly covered the open wound with a cotton pad, a little more tightly to stop the bleeding. She poured the antiseptic liquid on fresh cotton ready to tap it on his wound before his hand abruptly snaked on hers, halting her movement, forcing her to look at him.
"Was everything a fucking lie?" He whispered again, his lugubriousness suffocating.
"We lack time" she tried to wiggle her hand out of his hold that only tightened,
"Everything?" He breathlessly whispered, finally acknowledging that he had lived up to false hope, deceiving confessions.
"You were there when everything happened Mr. Frantino" she breathed, "you already know everything",
His hand still held her wrist tight.
"It's not a story I told you is it? It's things that happened to you."
When his brows furrowed, she understood that this wasnt the conversation appropriate for time,
"Look Mr. Frantino, we're already running out-"
"Do I not deserve to hear the truth from your mouth?"
"No, you don't. You have already had enough chunks of me"
"Oh I've had chunks of you??"
"YES YOU DID!! And you still have the fucking audacity to ask me the truth" her scream woke him out of the trance as if he had been asleep all along, "if you have ever Donavan, ever, looked in my eyes, you wouldn't ever ask me whether all that was a lie"
Then he let go,
allowing her to finish the job. He didn't miss the thick drop of a tear that silently collapsed out of her eye, right on his chest before trickling down on his abdomen.
She was quick in her movements, disinfecting the wound before stitching it to the best of her capabilities. He was the best patient she could ask for, compliant and silent, letting her do as she wished. When she was satisfied with her job that she had pulled impossibly faster, she sighed, yet again meeting his miserable eyes.
His heart was clenched, and somehow she felt it in her chest. Her body was exhausted, and yet he felt lying like on the bed. He watched her as she spoke, something incomprehensible in his mind, like a memorable lullaby whose only music lingered in his ears, and lyrics hid somewhere down the cub board, long forgotten.
She leaned on him, momentarily lost, willing to eliminate the grief in his eyes that pushed her down the lane of guilt.
She felt his sharp breath sucking the air between them, seeing as the lose dress allowed the view of her bosom, increasingly tempting till she slowly descended herself in his neck, inhaling and exhaling, making him close his eyes. Her nose softly tapped his neck, skidding up on his face till it touched the tip of his nose. And then she bypassed it, letting her lips engulf his upper lip in a warm embrace as he felt intertwining of his fingers in her soft ones before pulling his hands above his head, behind the seat, limiting their activities.
"You know what Mr. Frantino..." she moaned, getting a pained hum in response.
"It is indeed pleasing to shackle you"
Her words confused him. And in a second it clicked, not his assumptions but the handcuffs that now shackled both of his arms, rendering them futile.
His jaw ticked as he watched her smiling, not as genuinely as she usually did, but she tried.
"It is a precautionary measure, to ensure you don't try anything stupid" she muttered, buttoning his shirt back, trying to explain to a man who she didn't owe an explanation to.
He violently tried to break free, pulling the cuffs apart, but as it only hurt his wrists he couldn't but give up, throwing a violent gaze her way as she settled back on driving seat. She was brave enough to look back, her defiance unnerving.
"Feels helpless when bound huh?" she reminded him, of the time he had cuffed her, rendering her efforts useless when he performed unspeakable things to her body. She made him speechless with her words, defenseless with her actions.
Just with that the Porsche ran, it hadn't been even seconds when black SUVs came back into view again.
She had expected it. Auclairs had deep access, probably even satellites. It wasn't surprising that they had found their location despite her skillful driving. She clicked on her earbud, keeping up with the speed,
"Positive. Are the arrangements in place?"
"Got it"
Suddenly she took a sharp turn right, something that he knew would take them even farther from the city. She didn't look disturbed when the black fleet speedily caught up with her, nor did she felt anxious when the firing followed. The Auclairs in all their senses looked in the thirst of blood. There now remained no doubt that Nicolas Himself wished to wipe the couple off the history, he had seen too much.
Donavan's heart clenched at the thought of all the men he had left behind, it wasn't hard to imagine what must've dawned upon them. Even don himself wasn't assured of his life, it was impossible to escape the Auclairs, it was their territory after all. No matter how powerful Italians were, their strength reigned stronger in Italy, just as Auclairs did in Paris. He saw no point no more, no matter for how long she continued to drive, they'd follow until both of them were dead.
They approached a narrow bridge under which subsisted a mighty river. Given to the rainy reason it surged with gushing force, setting the rhythm of air with its babbles and ripples. Even when the windows were tainted and closed he could smell the hint of fresh water. He felt a strange twist as before they could drive on the bridge, she suddenly changed the gear, completely turning the steering wheel until she drove backwardly on the bridge trunk first, facing the Auclairs' fleet. Her speed slowed, but she still drove watching the approaching cars as they too drove further on the bridge, their firing seized, replying to the sign of surrender she portrayed.
In the leading car, Nicolas couldn't but finally smirk in content. Italians had tasted his patience long enough, now that the treacherous master of it all had been captured like a rabbit, he wanted to torture the great Donavan Frantino to death. He sought to send the message across the world of his glory, of his mercy that would never be awarded to the perfidious bastards like Frantino themselves.
Donavan watched her, wondering why she had surrendered after such a distance when she could have done it long ago. Why make them chase for hours before getting shackled by their demands?
But as he realised in the next couple minutes, it was anything but a symbol of surrender. From what he should have known long ago, she was an excellent planner, her every action was directed by an ulterior intention.
"Everything in order?" she muttered in her earbud, her voice echoing in the quietness of his mind.
"When I say so"
He noticed the trickle of sweat that skidded from her forehead. In a second the Porsche was taking a reverse, moving away from the fleet that stayed in its place, wondering what was happening.
"HUNDRED!" She whisper yelled,
Nicolas went alarmed, confused as to why the Porsche was taking a reverse.
"TWO HUNDERED!"
Donavan held on to the seat a little tightly, wondering what was the meaning of her words till it clicked.
Meters! She was stating the distance in meters between them and the Auclairs' fleet of vehicles.
But why?
"THREE HUNDRED"
Now Nicolas ordered to move forward, to catch up with the Porsche that seemed to be speedily making distance between them.
And just then she muttered the word that the group on the other side had been waiting for with bated breathe,
"EXECUTE!"
And for a second, only silence was heard, louder than the gushing trickles of river and the rumbling engine of Porsche, but a second later, equations changed.
Donavan's mouth dropped open as in front of him an inferno surged, taller than the sky itself, as in all at once everything met ruins, as if it had not been for the uncontrollable speed that his Porsche ran away, fire would have gratefully gulped them in too. The ground growled under them, shaking their existence, as yet swiftly again she fully rotated the wheel, turning away from the bridge, taking the frightening image of the hellfire away from their vision.
His eyes skidded back to hers again as she all but sighed, content that the Auclairs weren't the issue anymore. He pondered just how much he had underestimated her power that must have went far beyond the government to be arranging a well orchestrated bomb blast.
They hadn't drove for many kilometers when she drove on a secluded road, slowly now that there remained no chaser, no enemy, to be dealt with. The Porsche halted and she was out of the car in second, taking a fresh inhale in her senses, clutching her head in both her hands, attempting to calm down, not allowing the circumstance to get to her just yet, for her job was not finished.
She turned to him as he remained seated in the same place, not getting out. Approaching the passenger seat she swiftly opened the door,
"Get out"
And he listened, irritated that his hands were bound by the metal, his wound still not painful enough to be paid attention to. Not minding to close the door behind him she shot the first question,
"Where are the girls?"
It should have seemed hilarious to him for such a short petite woman to be asking such an explosive question and yet it didn't. Even when she hadn't become taller by an inch, her dominance was evident.
He stayed silent, now very well understanding what she was here for. She wanted to free the girls involved in sex trafficking and very neatly he was the only one well informed of the location. She had tried to glean from everything, his devices, his papers, his phone, unfortunately not finding where he was holding the girls.
"I am asking you something"
"I know" he answered nonchalantly, leaning back on the Porsche, looking around, pretending to enjoy the cheery afternoon before all of the a sudden he found himself sniffing the dust on the ground.
It was unimaginable the force with with she had kicked him on the ground but it would have been impossible for him to even flinch if it hadn't been for his dwindling energy.
He turned, lying on his back helpless by his bound hands, his jaw tight, watching as she stood over him, not in the mood of humor whatsoever as she asked again,
"Where are the girls?"
When he said nothing, her leg softly rested on his bandaged wound, not applying any pressure before suddenly putting weight. He felt the tinge of pain, the first time, when she herself tried to hurt him, and even then he didn't open his mouth, sealing his lips even tightly.
She realised everything was futile when she removed her leg from the wound that had started bleeding again.
She walked back and forth in the scorching sun, the humid air before throwing a final glance, finding his even more painful gaze already on her. He watched as she put her hand in the small pocket of her dress, taking out something like a blister pack of tablet.
"What's that?" he asked, alarmed,
"I didn't want to do this" she muttered,
"What the fuck is that?" his eyes widened, his head shook, denying the possibility of what pill she had been carrying all along,
"Tell me where the girls are and I wont take it"
He looked earnestly in her eyes, wondering how twisted the woman was to be threatening him like this. His eyes watered. He tried to sit but couldn't. He wished to stand, to walk up to her, to hold her head in his hands and ask why she did what she did. But more sincerely, he wanted to cry, at the way fate had played a game with,
"You can't do this to me" he cried again, finding himself drenched in the dust, in guilt, in the hopeless dreams. It was the pill she blackmailed to gulp, something that would make his child all but a lump of tiny flesh that would be flushed, without the gift of life.
"I won't if you tell me where the fucking girls are!!"
And he did, at the end, he had to.
Whatever happened, he didn't want his child to be no one. It had grown so far, with his love, his affection. He couldn't imagine a world where his heir that he had cherished with his loved wife didn't exist. With him or not, he wanted it to live.
She clicked again on her earbud, conveying the location, ensuring that it was right.
She found him crying for the second time. The only difference was that this time, he didn't hesitate, not even a single bit before letting himself lose. The mere imagination of his heir unalive had made him weak, everywhere, and that made Tara wonder what would he do when he'd see what she was about to do next.
She teared the blister, taking the tablet out.
"NO! NO! NO NO NO NO, you promised you wouldn't NO!" He screamed, unable to still get up, finding no energy in himself to stop her before she could push it down her throat,
She gulped. Letting the pill dryly trace her throat before travelling down its destination. Her face betrayed nothing, not malice, not ill intention, no happiness, no malencholy. It was something she did for herself. A child was a liability she knew. She would've aborted in or out of his presence. But when she took the pill in front of him, now remained no reason for him to find her, his child that he supposedly loved.
He shouted, and screamed and begged, cursing her, throwing his feasts around to do something about it till he couldn't. His body slowly gave out in exhaustion, in the blood that alarmingly seeped out of his body.
"Never try to find me" she whispered.
"I will" he breathed out, losing his consciousness
"And when I do..." he looked at her, his hazy vision granting only the outline of her body,
"You'll pay in blood too"
.
.
.
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Author's note:
Add STUCK part 2 in your library now.
And let's talk in comment section shall we?!!!!