Men that would torture you if they would’ve won,the voice in my head reminds me. But the man holding me steady over his bike might do just the same...
Chapter 6
Brian
The race will start in a few minutes, and we’re all placed in our spots. There’s nineteen of us, but only one winner.
I sit steady on my bike, watching her closely as two men remove the fabric from her head. The way her eyes dart everywhere in confusion and fear breaks my heart. All I want is to enter the room they’ve placed her in, grab her, and go home.
Patience, I remindmyself. She will soon be yours,the voice in my head says.
I turn the key and start the engine along with the other contestants, our bikes roaring in sync. I’m surrounded by old men, and the fact that they’ve entered the race to win a woman way too young for them, makes me sick to my stomach.
“Don’t be scared, I won’t let them lay a hand on you, babydoll,”I whisper in my helmet as I look up at her, finding her eyeseven thoughshe can’t find mine.
Yet her focus is on me and my bike, and that’s enough for now. I’ll have her full attention the second I claim her and get the fuck out of here.
I hate my father for putting her in this position, making her fear for her life.
A loud siren breaks through my thoughts, and before I get a second to think further, the race has started. Instantly, I’m off and away, the speedometer climbing.
Not much time passes before I’m in third place, not even the first lap done. I won’t let my emotions get a hold of me in thismoment, I need to think clearly. Once the first lap is finished, I enter second place, driving past a red motorcycle in a curve as my knee almost scrapes against the ground. A smile forms on my lips due to pure adrenaline.
I pass the finish line a second time, then there's only one lap left. Soon she’ll be mine, and I’ll never let her fear like this again. I keep that thought in mind as I slipstream behind the guy in front of me only to drive past him and take first place. I let the speed increase, exiting the second curve at 230 km/h, leaving all the other bikes behind me. Risky? Yes. Worthit? Absolutely.
It’s a freeing feeling as the front wheel passes the finish line knowing I won, even though I never saw another outcome.
I knew I was going to win. I’m a twenty-six year old competing against old men. It was obvious. But I don’t let them leave the place alive, not a chance. Their sick mindset will only hurt someone else, and I won’t be the reason their behavior continues.So, I made a deal with the guards. Shoot all of them and get paid.
I’m known as a beast who never does the dirty work. But it’s not due to the reason people think. I’ve always been perceived as cold-hearted, even though that’s far from the truth. My heart is heavy, always has been. And the thought of killing someone... no, absolutely not. Not after the way my mother died, not after the way I had to take care of my father through his grief while pushing myself to the side.
Though I’m considered to be the best shooter, I’ve never used my talent to take someone’s life.
I leave the arena instantly before my father gets the chance to suspect anything. We don’t drive for long before reaching the forest where I live when I’m not staying at my father’s place.
Tall trees surround us within minutes, and the sun makes the asphalt glitter. But most important, I have Anastasia securely with me.
My house comes into view soon enough, the house standing steady in the middle of the woods. It’s a cabin, very different from my father’s mansion. But I prefer the woody warmth.
I park the motorcycle in the garage, throw Anastasia over my shoulder without her putting up a fight, and head inside. I step into the room I had made for her, baby-pink walls, golden details, and a princess bed.All justso she can feel at home here.
I throw her on the bed and remove her helmet. Poorgirl looks terrified, and it breaks me.
I take off my black leather jacket as I come closer to her, revealing the white, ribbed fabric covering my top as the light outlines my muscles. But she backs away in panic.
“Please, wait, I’m not ready, I don’t want this, please!”
I don’t answer. InsteadI take off my helmet and reveal my face to her, hoping she can relax just a little.
She gasps instantly, but grabs a pillow and throws it at me the second she realizes I’m not her beloved prince. She’ll get used to it someday, hopefully, for her own sake.
“Keep your helmet on, I don’t want to see your face,” she spits out, not understanding how hurtful her words are.
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I will never,” she crosses her arms under her full chest.
“Sooner or later, you will.” I keep my tone steady, calm.
