Bound by lies Trapped by Desire novel Chapter 154

Chapter 154

Nikolai’s POV:

Sergei’s last words echoed in my ears: “West Harbor. That’s where he was headed” He didn’t even get to finish his words. The call was cut and I watched as his car swerved and reversed from the rear view mirror.

I slammed the car into a higher gear, the engine roaring in protest as the speedometer needle climbed. The past half–hour had been a blur of chaos.

A group of Fath–Andrey’s men, on bikes and in blacked–out sedans, had materialized out of thin air. We had spent every second since fending them off, the symphony of gunfire a constant backdrop. Two of Sergei’s cars, the ones I had seen approaching on the highway, were already down, crumpled wrecks smoldering by the roadside. We had no choice but to split up, the two remaining sedans veering off in different directions to draw away the majority of the heat. Sergei, a man with far more experience in gunfights than I, took on the bulk of them. My focus, my only focus, was getting to Elena.

The car swerved as I rounded a sharp corner, the tires squealing in protest as I pushed the machine past its limits, hitting 160 mph and kept accelerating.

The drive to the West Harbor took only ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Each second stretched into a minute, each minute into an hour.

My heart rate, which had been a steady, frantic beat during the chase, now reached a new crescendo of pure dread.

I pushed open the door of my SUV, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet of the parking lot. Grabbing the second gun from the passenger seat, a Glock 17, I slipped out of the vehicle, my body already in motion. I hadn’t even bothered to properly park, just skidded to a halt in the middle of a deserted lot.

At first glance, the place seemed empty of any conspicuous people, but I kept my guard up, every sense heightened. My footsteps were soft on the asphalt as I made my way over to the yachts.

A dark premonition had washed over me as soon as Sergei’s words had left his mouth. In all my years of practically stalking Elena, I had learned a lot of things about her. Her favorite color, her favorite food, her taste in art, clothes, and even her obscure, preferred style of alternative R&B. From her medical history to her mother’s and her adopted father’s, I knew it all.

In all of that, I had also learned about her fears. It was a surprising discovery, because there weren’t many things she was genuinely afraid of. Her first and foremost fear, the one that was painfully obvious to anyone who spent more than a few days with her, was losing her mother.

What discovery about her surprised me the most, however, was her other fear. One that I had accidentally stumbled upon at one of Dmitri’s lavish and vulgar house parties. It was a fear she never truly showed on her face. Deep waters. She was scared of deep waters.

I remembered the scene with a sudden, painful clarity. The careless, drunken laughter of Dmitri and his friends. He had been playing a game and she had been the unfortunate pawn. He ‘playfully‘ pushed her into the pool. She had gone under with a muffled splash, and when she hadn’t resurfaced, her friend, Fiona, had shouted at the men and jumped in behind her to pull her up. Only after I saw Elena’s coughing, shivering form, her lips blue, her body trembling uncontrollably, had I realized. Oh. That’s fear. That was bone–deep fear.

And I had a sinking feeling, that Dmitri, the sadistic bastard, planned on taking full advantage of that.

As I reached the dock, the wooden planks groaning under my weight, I noticed one of the yachts was missing from its mooring. My eyes snagged on two figures standing next to a smaller yacht, a gleaming white vessel that was still tied to the dock. They were talking in low voices, their forms silhouetted against the dark water. I flicked off the safety of my Glock and I jogged forward, my feet silent on the wood.

As soon as they both felt the metallic tips of the guns on their heads, they turned around with their hands raised. One of the men, a scrawny

kid with a face full of cheap tattoos, swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear. The other was older, a grizzled, scarred man who simply stared at me, his face impassive. I quirked the side of my lips up into an angry smile. “Let’s get this over with quickly, shall we?”

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Chapter 154

In the next five minutes, the engine of the smaller yacht was roaring inside my ears. I sped up the yacht as much as I could. I knew my brother, no, in fact I knew the monster my father had turned him into, I knew the twisted, sadistic corners of his mind. He’d definitely not just kill her off that fast. No, in fact, he’d savor the moment. He’d get angry, throw a tantrum, threaten her, and might even go as far as to physically hurt her before he was done playing. And then, only then, when he was completely satisfied with her fear, would he push her into the vast, unforgiving ocean.

And as much as I hated to think this way, hated the self–loathing that came with the thought, that would be the best–case scenario for me. It would give me time. Time to get to her. Time to save her.

That’s what I had believed, at least. But then I saw her, on the deck of Dmitri’s yacht. I saw Dmitri, his face a mask of rage, lunging toward her. And then I saw her, a flash of steel in her hand, as she plunged the dagger deep into his knee cap.

My eyes widened in a mixture of shock. My own yacht slammed against the side of his. I didn’t even slow down to secure the lines. With a single, desperate leap, Haunched myself over the gap between the two vessels, my feet landing hard on the deck of Dmitri’s yacht.

I sprinted toward her. Her eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and triumph, met mine for a fleeting second. The world seemed to slow down to

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