Chapter 10: No Way Out

Bella’s POV

The bunker’s air is cool and still, almost clinical, like the inside of a vault that’s been sealed for decades. The only sound is the low hum of the ventilation system and the occasional drip from a pipe somewhere in the walls. No windows. No clocks. Time feels elastic here—stretched thin, then snapped back without warning.

We’ve been underground for what feels like hours, maybe a full day. I’ve lost track. My body is a map of their hands: faint bruises on my hips where Nico gripped me too hard, a red bloom on my neck from Victor’s teeth, the dull ache between my legs that reminds me every time I shift that they’ve both been inside me—together, separately, again and again.

We’re lying on the king bed now, sheets kicked to the foot. I’m in the middle, as always. Nico on my left, one arm thrown possessively across my waist, face buried against my shoulder. Victor on my right, propped on one elbow, tracing invisible patterns across my stomach with the tip of his index finger. Neither of them is asleep. Neither of them is talking.

The silence is heavy. Not peaceful. Waiting.

Victor breaks it first.

“We can’t stay here longer than forty-eight hours,” he says quietly. “The cleaners were sloppy, but the next team won’t be. They’ll sweep every property tied to either of us. This place is off-grid, but it’s not invisible.”

Nico lifts his head. His eyes are bloodshot. Exhaustion and adrenaline have carved hollows under them.

“Then we move,” he says. “Private airstrip in Jersey. My contact there owes me. One call and we’re wheels-up to the Caymans before sunrise tomorrow.”

Victor’s finger pauses on my skin.

“And then what?” he asks. “You think your uncle stops hunting because we’re out of the country? He’ll put a price on all three heads. Every contract killer from here to Bogotá will be looking.”

Nico’s jaw tightens. “So we disappear. New names. New lives. I’ve got clean passports, cash stashed—”

Victor’s laugh is short and bitter. “You think I haven’t done that math? I’ve got three identities ready in Zurich, accounts in Liechtenstein, a compound on an island no one can find on G****e Earth. But disappearing means cutting every tie. Family. Business. Power.”

He looks down at me.

“And it means she disappears with us. No going back. No second chances.”

The words land like stones in my chest.

I sit up slowly. Pull my knees to my chest. The sheet falls away. Neither man looks away from my face—they’re watching my eyes, waiting for the answer I haven’t given yet.

“I’m not running forever,” I say. Voice steadier than I feel. “I’m not spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder because two men I love can’t stop trying to kill each other’s families.”

Nico flinches like I slapped him.

Victor’s expression doesn’t change, but his hand curls into a fist on the mattress.

“You love us both,” Nico says. It’s not a question. It’s a wound.

“Yes.”

Victor exhales through his nose. “Then you understand why we can’t both walk away clean. One of us has to end this. One way or another.”

I shake my head. “No.”

Nico reaches for me. Cups my cheek. “Bella—”

“No.” I pull away. Stand. Naked. Exposed. Furious. “You don’t get to decide my future is a choice between your blood or his empire. You don’t get to fuck me until I can’t walk and then tell me I have to pick which one of you survives.”

They both stare at me.

I keep going. Voice rising.

“I’m carrying something that might belong to one of you. Or neither. Or both, in the only way that matters. And I’m not raising it in hiding, or in a war zone, or as some trophy between two men who think love means ownership.”

Victor sits up slowly. “You’re pregnant.”

It’s not a question. He already knew. Or suspected.

I nod once.

Nico’s face drains of color.

“How long?” he asks.

“Two tests. Both positive. I didn’t know until after the gala. I was going to tell you… separately. Before everything went to hell.”

Victor swings his legs off the bed. Stands. Walks to me. Doesn’t touch me yet.

His voice is low. Almost gentle.

“You think we’d make you choose now?”

“I think you’ve been making me choose since the night you walked back into my life.”

Nico stands too. Comes up behind me. His chest presses to my back. Arms wrap around my waist—protective, possessive.

“Then stop choosing,” he says against my ear. “We stop fighting each other. We fight everyone else. Together.”

Victor’s eyes flick to Nico. Something passes between them—silent, loaded, years of hatred and necessity colliding.

Victor lifts his hand. Cups my face.

“We build something new,” he says. “Not my empire. Not his family. Ours. The three of us. The child. Whatever it takes to keep all of you safe.”

Nico’s arms tighten around me.

“I’ll burn my colors,” he says. “Walk away from the family. Take the hit. But only if you do the same—cut every dirty thread in your boardrooms. No more blood money.”

Victor doesn’t flinch.

“Done.”

I look between them.

“You’re serious.”

“Deadly,” they say at the same time.

The word hangs in the air.

Then Victor kisses me—slow, deep, reverent.

Nico turns my head. Kisses me next—rougher, hungrier.

They guide me back to the bed.

This time it’s different.

No rush.

No punishment.

No claiming territory.

Victor lies down first. Pulls me on top of him. Slides inside me—slow. Deep. Eyes locked on mine.

Nico moves behind me. Kisses my shoulder. My spine. Presses his cock against my ass—not entering, just resting there. Hot. Heavy. A promise.

Victor rolls his hips—gentle thrusts that make me gasp.

Nico’s hand slips between us. Fingers circle my clit in time with Victor’s rhythm.

I ride Victor slowly. Grinding. Taking every inch.

Nico’s mouth finds my neck. Bites softly. Soothes.

Victor’s hands cup my breasts. Thumbs brush my nipples.

I come quietly this time—shuddering, clenching around Victor, whispering both their names like a prayer.

Victor follows—spilling inside me with a low groan.

Nico pulls me off Victor. Turns me. Lays me on my side.

Enters me from behind—slow. Deep. Spooning me while Victor watches.

Nico’s hand covers my stomach—protective. Possessive. Loving.

He moves with restraint. Long strokes. Grinding against that spot until I’m trembling again.

Victor leans in. Kisses me while Nico fucks me.

I come a second time—soft, rolling waves.

Nico buries himself deep. Comes with my name on his lips.

We collapse—tangled, sweaty, breathing each other in.

No one speaks for a long time.

Then Victor’s voice—quiet, almost tender.

“We have forty-eight hours to make the first move.”

Nico’s arm tightens around me.

“Then we make it count.”

I close my eyes.

Feel them both around me.

Inside me.

With me.

For the first time since this nightmare began, I don’t feel hunted.

I feel like the hunter.

And whatever comes next—war, exile, truce, blood—I know one thing for certain.

They’re not letting me go.

And I’m not letting them go.