CHAPTER 3: The Eagle and the Prey

For the rest of the drive, not a single word passed between us. I began to notice small details that had previously escaped me. At the gates of our elite neighborhood, men in black suits stood at attention. They didn't smile. And as we passed the security post, they bowed to Adrian—not out of standard respect, but with a deference born of pure fear.

When we arrived at the campus, I hoped he would just let me out and disappear. Instead, Adrian killed the engine and stepped out with me.

"I can handle the situation myself, Adrian," I protested as he walked beside me, hands in his pockets, his eyes constantly scanning the perimeter.

"Finish your business, little duck. Less complaining," he replied curtly.

Several female students began whispering as we passed. Adrian was too conspicuous. He looked like a high-end magazine model who had taken a wrong turn into a crowd of students in t-shirts.

While I stood in line at the administration office, I saw Adrian standing a distance away near a large window. He was speaking to someone through an earpiece. His expression darkened; his jaw tightened.

For some reason, my suspicion deepened, and my heart raced. What else was he planning? Was the "vanishing" he mentioned on the phone actually happening? Was he truly a killer? My hands shook so much that the ink on my form smeared. It seemed I hadn't just joined a wealthy family. I had walked straight into a wolf's den.

Once I finished, we returned to the parking lot, which had grown quiet as classes began. Just as I reached for the car door, Adrian suddenly gripped my wrist with bruising force.

"Ow! Adrian, what are you—"

"Quiet," he hissed. His eyes swept the parking lot with high-voltage intensity.

With one sharp tug, he pulled me flush against his body. My back was pressed against his broad chest, trapping me between him and the car door.

"Adrian, you're hurting me—"

"I said, 'Shut up!'" His voice was now thick with urgency.

In that heartbeat, a black van with heavily tinted windows slowed down as it passed our row of cars. It had no license plates. I felt the muscles in Adrian's arms turn to stone. He reached for something beneath his jacket—a movement so fast and practiced it was a blur.

"Adrian, what’s happening? Who are they?" I whispered, terrified, our breath mingling in the cold air.

"Get in the car. Now!" he commanded. He didn't call me Little Duck. His tone was so grave I knew my life was hanging by a thread.

Adrian leaped into the driver's seat and ignited the engine. The roar of the car shattered the silence of the lot. Before I could ask another question, the car lurched forward, tires screaming against the asphalt.

"Buckle up and hold on, Little Duck!" he ordered without looking back.

I glanced at the side mirror. The black van pulled a violent U-turn, smashing through a plastic bin, and began to give chase. My heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest.

"Who are they, Adrian?! Why are they chasing us?" I screamed, fumbling to lock my seatbelt with trembling hands.

"Not the time for a Q&A," he snapped coldly. He jerked the wheel sharply, weaving us out of the campus and onto the main highway.

The way Adrian drove now was entirely different. The calm was gone. He drove with a terrifying aggressiveness, threading through narrow gaps between vehicles at a speed that made my stomach churn. His eyes constantly flickered to the mirrors, wary of every move the van made as it clung to our tail.

"They're getting closer!" I shrieked as the van tried to PIT maneuver our rear bumper.

"Shut up and hold on tight!" Adrian bellowed, his voice echoing in the cramped cabin.

He suddenly slammed on the brakes and whipped the steering wheel to the left, diving into a narrow alleyway flanked by ancient buildings. My body was thrown sideways, my head nearly hitting the glass. Adrian accelerated even harder, navigating the maze of alleys with a precision impossible for an ordinary person.

I stole a glance at him. There wasn't a trace of fear on his face. Only a grim concentration and a firm set to his jaw. He looked like he was enjoying the pressure. As if this were his element.

"We have to get out of here, Adrian! Call the police! Call your father!" I cried, panicked.

"The police won't help us, Little Duck," he said with a piercing bitterness. "In this world, it’s just me and them. The police will only be there to collect our corpses if I make a mistake for even one second."

He glanced at me briefly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that took my breath away. "If you want to live, keep your mouth shut!"

His protective tone amidst the chaos froze me. He wasn't asking for silence out of hate; he was gambling his life for mine.

The black van reappeared suddenly from a shortcut at the end of the alley, attempting to cut us off head-on. Adrian ground his teeth, his eyes narrowing.

"Get your head down, Little Duck. Don't look up until I say it's safe!"

I huddled under the dashboard, pressing my hands over my ears and knees pulled to my chest. The roar of the engine, the screech of tires on asphalt, and the thud of colliding metal filled my entire world.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass erupted above me. Crash!

It was followed by a deafening blast. Once. Twice.

My hands shook. That wasn't a tire blowing out. Those were gunshots. Adrian wasn't just driving anymore; he was firing back. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the enclosed cabin.

"Adrian!" I screamed hysterically.

"Stay down!" he roared.

The car tilted at an extreme angle as Adrian performed a frantic maneuver. I felt a heavy impact on the passenger door, followed by a violent jolt that sent the car airborne for a split second before it slammed back onto the pavement. Then, a haunting silence fell. The car stopped with a sickening lurch.

I gathered the courage to look up. My breath caught. We weren't on the highway. We were in a deserted loading dock area. Adrian was no longer at the wheel. He stood outside the car, his back to me, with a firearm leveled straight ahead.

"Get out of the car, Alina." His voice was flat, yet laced with a warning. "Slowly."

I trembled as I opened the door. As my feet hit the ground, my eyes landed on the black van, now overturned in front of us. From behind the mangled door, someone began to crawl out, blood masking their face.

"Adrian, don't..." I whispered, realizing what he was about to do. Adrian didn't turn. His index finger was already on the trigger.

Bang!

The man was killed instantly, a bullet striking him squarely in the forehead.

The world before me suddenly turned black and white. The blast still rang in my ears, louder than the frantic beat of my heart. The metallic scent of fresh blood mingled with the heavy smoke of gunpowder, stinging my nose until nausea rose in my throat.

I collapsed onto the rough asphalt. My knees gave out, no longer able to support the weight of my shaking body. In front of me, the figure that had been crawling was now motionless. The small hole in his forehead was a silent testament to the precision with which Adrian executed human life.

Adrian lowered his weapon with a casual motion, as if he had just stubbed out a cigarette rather than ended a life. He turned, walking toward me with a rhythm that was far too calm for a man who had just committed murder.

"I told you, Little Duck. Pick one of the options I gave you earlier," he said, standing directly over me.

***