Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Why did Giancarlo still want her to leave?
Why?
Security let them pass through one of the private entrances at the side of the airport, and Justina motioned for Sarica to take a seat. "Wait here, please." She needed to look for the immigration officer she had spoken to earlier. The sooner she had Sarica aboard a plane, the sooner it would be better for all—-
No.
Fuck.
No.
Justina saw her worst nightmare come back to life at about the same time Sarica spotted Viktor Biancardi enter the same holding office from another door.
Sarica's mind urged her to run.
Because this was not her fight, and she was better off playing it safe.
But all she could do was stare as he walked closer and closer.
He was exactly as she remembered.
Tall and golden-haired.
Breathtakingly handsome like an angel.
The kind of man that no one would ever suspect of abducting women to sell them off as slaves. The kind of man who would arrange for his friend's murder if that was what it took to save his own neck.
Justina and Sarica turned to look at each other.
But when they looked back at Viktor at the same time—-
It was too late.
He had seen them, too, and the wild look in his eyes was that of a man who believed he had nothing to lose.
GIANCARLO AND HIS MEN were already at the airport when he received an urgent message from his security, telling him that both Justina and Sarica were at the same place he was.
No. God. No.
He ran as fast as he could.
But this, too, was exactly what he feared.
Viktor. Justina. And his Sarica.
They all saw him coming.
And falling.
His injury betraying him at the worst possible moment-—
Because he was no longer the same Giancarlo he once was.
Save her, God.
While one look at Justina showed that her own fears had also gotten the best of her—-
Please.
And this left Viktor and Sarica in a standoff—-
We only have You.
A SENSE OF CALMNESS like Sarica had never known before settled over her as Viktor lunged toward her with shocking speed.
In the corner of her eye, she saw that Justina had frozen up in terror. The other woman had lost herself in the past, unresolved trauma turning her into a sitting duck.
And finally, she saw him.
Giancarlo.
And in his dark eyes, she saw desperation and defeat.
They both knew he wouldn't make it in time.
Because Viktor's blade had already slid between her ribs.
"Sarica!"
Her name on his lips was the sound of agony and despair, and oh, how she wished she had the time to tell him it was okay.
It was completely okay because this was what she wanted.
What she had trained and sweated blood and tears for.
This was what she had prayed for.
It's alright, my love.
Because she had shifted just as Viktor stabbed her, and while the pain was vicious and immediate, the knife had also missed anything vital.
We're going to be okay.
All Viktor wanted was to kill her and hurt Giancarlo one last time before he was made to pay for his crimes.
But that was where he miscalculated.
Because as soon as Viktor pulled back, Sarica also made her move.
Just one moment to pull the knife out of her side.
And another moment to return the favor.
Viktor's stunned eyes clashed with his as he stumbled back and lost his balance.
Gotcha.
Dauphin's lessons had come in very handy, and Viktor was now pinned on the floor under Sarica, both of them bleeding but neither in danger of dying.
In the incident report the police would submit later on, Sarica had only one thing to say when describing the altercation that could've easily resulted in multiple deaths.
I know all of it happened in mere seconds.
But at the same time, it was as if everything was happening in slow motion.
I didn't feel scared at all.
Because of Him.
Chapter Twelve
As with all things in the kingdom of Kivr, luxury met lethality in the Department of Defense's interrogation room. Marble walls and floors, steel-legged chairs with built-in shackles, and metal doors with automated retina-scanning locks.
On one side of the table was Viktor, his knife wound now expertly bandaged, his clothes still bloodstained. And seated across him was Giancarlo, whose dark good looks were still the perfect foil for Viktor's angelic blondness.
One of the department officials came in to ask for Viktor's written confession, and it was as if Giancarlo was looking at a complete stranger as he read some of the things Viktor was writing. He could never have imagined that someone he considered his closest friend was capable of such vileness. And an equally painful pill to swallow was how he had been completely unaware of such things happening.
The department official presented another document, which required Viktor to identify all the other individuals involved in the human trafficking ring he had been a part of. The other man did so without question, and it was only when they were alone again that Viktor finally looked up to meet Giancarlo's gaze.