Do Not Make A Sound

Kammie POV

Run if you can, hide if you can’t, and fight like hell only if there’s no other choice. That’s all that went through my head as the gunshots kept coming—stay alive, one breath at a time.

I have to stay alive. I can't afford to die now, especially since it's been three weeks since Ronan reached out to me. I also just got us a nice apartment, and things are finally going well for me after many struggles.

But everything went blurry as his grip tightened on my neck, choking every fiber of air from my lungs. His eyes were watching, ravishing the view as he continued tracing his gun along my neckline.

“Please… don’t kill me…” I choked on my saliva, pleading desperately for my life.

“Shut your little mouth…” he gritted his teeth, his tone laced with venom.

I whimpered painfully, my eyes watery, unable to concentrate on the venomous gaze staring back at me.

The sound of another gunshot echoed. My vision turned white, barely able to grasp the situation before me when his grip loosened, slowly sliding off my neck.

A warm spray hit my cheek.

I blinked back tears as his body slumped onto the next seat, bleeding heavily. He’d been shot straight through the skull unmistakably.

My breath quickened as I became aware of the shadows moving around. I immediately pressed myself into the backseat, adrenaline coursing through me, causing my heart to race with each second until the shadows finally disappeared.

A ghost of relief washed over me as I heard no further movement. It didn’t last long before the door swung open and a tall man climbed in, slamming it shut. He was masked and clothed completely in black. The stranger’s dark, metallic eyes met mine in a flash, seizing the scream at the back of my throat.

“Do not make a sound….”

My heart pounded as the hairs on my neck stood on end. My peripheral vision blurred into white as panic gradually took over, catching me off guard before my brain even processed what was happening.

My gaze suddenly clashed with the ominous weapon in his hands.

I froze.

A f++king gun.

God, why does the universe want me to die today in the hands of kidnappers?

Especially the ones with guns.

Because apparently being kidnapped wasn't enough excitement for one day.

“Run… run, Kammie… run…”

The voice in my head rang out, sensing the danger before me, but my legs wouldn’t work, nor could my mind comprehend the situation playing out right in front of me. My voice sank back into my lungs as the masked stranger shifted in the seat.

The stranger’s wet hoodie soaked the seats as his gaze lingered on me for a moment before dropping briefly to the dead man beside us.

Then back to me, like he was deciding whether I lived or died.

His eyes held an unreadable expression, something dangerous flashing beneath them as he watched my movements. I couldn’t see his face; he was wearing a mask that covered every feature, only the strange color of his eyes staring back at me, lingering a bit too long downward. Something like amusement crossed his gaze.

His lips moved slightly, but I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing.

“F++k…” he cursed under his breath, his deep voice echoing through the tension in the air.

He roughly removed his wet black gloves, dropping the gun onto his thigh and exposing a tattoo of a skull and guns on his left hand, while on his right, a casket and skeleton were inked across his knuckles. Alarm bells exploded inside my head.

My lungs suddenly stopped functioning well; my stomach tightened as I acted on instinct, reaching for the door and forcefully twisting the lock.

“Don’t do anything stupid, pretty girl.” His deep Russian voice came out soft, almost sensual.

Too close.

I sensed his presence next to me, close enough for me to realize that whatever had killed my kidnapper was now sitting right beside me, only a few inches away, his cold breath brushing past my neckline and stiffening my movement.

I could see him a bit better now. His eyes were lifeless, like death itself—dark and metallic. One silver, the other ocean blue. Not normal blue—darker, deeper, like the ocean right before a storm. Staring back at them felt like sinking into a dark void.

He wasn’t panicking. If anything, he looked calm. And somehow that terrified me more than the gun.

People who could stay calm surrounded by corpses were the most dangerous kind.

I removed my hand from the handle and placed it on my lap, squeezing my thigh roughly. Fear gripped every inch of my body as I averted my gaze from his.

The door was still locked… and… I… I was going to die.

He didn’t appear friendly at all; he looked far worse than the dead driver in the front seat, who was lifeless and bleeding into the upholstery.

“Now… sit still and don’t make a noise.” His hands held the gun in a firm position above my head, making his point clear. “One reckless move, little cub, and I won’t hesitate to shoot a bullet into your skull… understand?”

I swallowed, giving a subtle nod, my grip on my thigh shaking.

He lifted my chin, his fingers gently tracing my throat, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“You answer me, cub. No nods. Speak like a f++king human being. You’ll do exactly as I say. Do you understand?” The man’s voice rolled out, dripping with coldness.

“Y-yes, Sir…” I stammered, tears threatening to spill out.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice deep and smooth.

Moving his gun downward, I focused on the way his full lips hid a hint of a smirk as he continued tracing a spot on my collarbone.

Something flashed beneath his cold eyes, and I hated how I noticed, hated the way my stomach flipped, and the way heat crawled up my neck, sending electric warmth down my legs, forcing my thighs to clench together involuntarily.

F++k, what the hell is wrong with you?

In the worst kind of situation… my body still had the goddamn nerves to betray me.

Damn, this was truly not my day.

A last-minute drive to the airport, finally heading home, and now it had all gone to hell. Two strangers. One lying dead in the front seat. The other staring straight through me with dark, filthy thoughts burning in his eyes.

A gun gripped loosely in his hand… and f++k if that didn’t make him even hotter.

Shit.

His gaze darkened more intensely, settling on my cleavage.

And I stopped breathing.

I nervously bit my bottom lip.

His eyes tracked the movement, slowly locking onto mine with something wild. As his hand traced from my chin to the spot I’d bitten, it took my breath away. He then leaned closer, bringing his face near my ear.

“Careful… you don’t want to find out what I’d do with that mouth.”

“You’re scared,” he said quietly.

His gaze dropped to my thighs.

“But not the way you should be.”

My pulse stuttered. “What… what’s that supposed to mean?”

His gaze darkened. “What it means doesn’t matter, cub. What matters is how you feel it… your eyes… they show resistance, but your P+++Y sings a different tone.”

My breathing became shallow.

I should snap at him… call him a pervert, but instead, I felt the burning sensation of his gaze on my skin, melting every inch of me.

His eyes dropped to my lips again.

And I bit down on them.

A mistake.

His gaze darkened instantly, something snapping beneath the surface. His hand came up, gripping my jaw just enough to sting.

“I warned you,” he said quietly.

His fingers pulled my bottom lip free from my teeth, and I had to stifle the soft, eager moan almost escaping from the tip of my tongue.

“I have a lot of ideas to put that pretty little mouth to good use… one that involves f++king you right here in the backseat, hands tied, and your P+++Y begging to be f++ked…” he murmured in that deep, low, filthy tone, looking back at me.

His gun settled on my cleavage, then slid into the upper layer of my gown, touching my breast.

Heat rushed between my legs, pooling in places I didn’t want to think about, causing a red flush to rise on my cheeks.

“Chertovski krasivo…” he growled in a whisper, speaking in Russian, his deep voice thick with desire.

I didn’t know what he meant, but the sound made my thighs clench, turning my legs to jelly.

He seemed to enjoy the look on my reddened face, since his lips twitched upward, amused.

“Looks like you love the idea, don’t you?” There was harsh amusement behind his words. “You want me to F++k your tight little C+++T, little cub? Is that it?”

My cheeks flamed hot. His question sent a fresh wave of wetness down my thigh, and I looked away.

I had to.

I forced down the lump in my throat, trying to steady my breathing. :

The dead driver was still slumped in the front seat. Blood crept into the seat, slow and heavy. The metallic scent filled the air.

I should be focused on that.

On surviving.

Not on him.

He placed his finger beneath my chin and forced me to focus back on him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, princess.”

Translation: eyes on me.

I clamped my lips shut in a hopeless attempt to stop them from shaking, unable to speak. Why did he make every inch of me come alive in the wrong way? I shouldn’t want this. This was wrong.

“I have a-”

“Check the whole place, now!” a voice suddenly barked from outside, interrupting me.

His eyes left mine, darting toward the glass window, following the shadows moving outside. His fingers were still on my lips. His grip on the gun tightened.

“What-”

My voice was cut off by his gun pressing up beneath my chin. His eyes glistened with warning.

My brain froze, silencing every possibility of speaking or asking questions.

“We must find him, Romeo…” another voice said fiercely, flashing a light over the cars parked outside.

I could finally see where we were.

Some f++ked-up junkyard, with no means of escaping without getting caught in the process.

“I don’t care if one of them searches entire junkyard. Find him!" the man, Romeo, yelled, followed by footsteps moving across the yard.

Him?

They were looking for him.

Which meant-

I was trapped with the thing they were hunting.

Just great. I was in a car with a kidnapper or a killer on the run.

And I was soaking wet for him.

F++k, Kammie… just f++k.

His gaze didn’t leave mine. Not once.

My heart pounded loudly, vibrating into my skull until it was the only sound I could hear around me. The light finally landed on the glass window, and footsteps started moving toward the car.

My breath hitched as I met his gaze with panic.

Just as the heavy footsteps crunched closer to the car window, without warning, he yanked me toward him.

My breath caught as his hand gripped the back of my neck, firm. His other arm locked around me, holding me in place as he pressed me against his muscular chest.

“Stay still,” he whispered, low enough that only I could hear.

And then his mouth crashed into mine, kissing me like he was starving for it fierce, possessive, and unapologetic. His teeth caught my bottom lip, tugging sharply, sending a jolt of heat straight through me.