Chapter 5: No Way Out

November 14, 2024 | 11:00 PM | The Seraphim Club

Mikhail appeared at their booth. No warning. Just there.

"Pakhan." Something ugly and excited flickered in his expression. "The new formula launch at Babylon House. It's performing beyond expectations."

Damian's fingers stilled on Ava's wrist.

The lazy indifference vanished. He sat forward, interested.

"Define 'beyond expectations.'"

"Triple potency. We lost three to the old formula earlier tonight, but the clients don't care. They want stronger." Mikhail's smile turned cruel. "The test subjects are... very enthusiastic. You wanted to see the results firsthand."

Ava's stomach turned. Three dead, and they were launching something worse.

Damian rose in one smooth motion, pulling her with him.

"Time for your next lesson, Doctor."

His hand pressed low on her back. Possessive. Claiming.

"Let me show you what true addiction looks like."

The crowd parted for them. Whispers followed in their wake. The women who'd spent years trying to catch his eye watched with naked envy.

He wanted them to see. To know she belonged to him.

Outside, three black SUVs waited. Engines running. Windows tinted black. No one could see in.

"Standard formation." Mikhail's orders sent men scattering. "Three-point convoy. Babylon House is high-value tonight."

The middle vehicle's door swung open.

Damian guided her inside. The leather seats smelled like gun oil and money. His cologne filled the space, something French that made her think of dark forests.

"You're taking me to watch people destroy themselves."

She kept her voice steady as the convoy pulled away.

"I'm showing you reality." He settled back, completely at ease. "The truth beneath Vegas's pretty lies."

The city blurred past. Neon fading to darkness. They left the Strip behind, climbing into the hills.

"Those three who died tonight—"

"Made their choice." His voice held no emotion. "They wanted escape. I provided it."

"You provided poison."

His laugh filled the car. Not warm. Not cold. Just amused.

"The poison is already in them, Doctor. The desperation. The need. I just give it form."

Red light ahead.

The convoy slowed.

Something changed in Damian's posture. Subtle. A shift that made her pulse jump.

His hand found the weapon beneath his jacket.

"Mikhail."

The pale-eyed enforcer was already speaking Russian into his comm.

The light stretched. Red bleeding into the night.

"Nervous?"

Damian's attention never left the intersection.

"Normal people get nervous around armed killers."

"But you're not normal." His free hand found her knee through the silk. "Are you?"

The light turned green.

Their convoy rolled forward.

The truck came from nowhere.

11:25 PM | Road to Hollywood Hills

Metal crunched. Twisted. The world went sideways.

Their SUV lurched, T-boned by something massive. Ava's temple hit the window hard. White spots danced across her vision. Blood filled her mouth.

Then came the gunfire.

Automatic weapons. Not random shots—controlled bursts. Someone wanted them very dead.

The bulletproof glass held but cracked into spider webs.

Damian threw himself over her. No hesitation.

She couldn't breathe. His weight crushed her into the seat. His heart hammered against her back.

"Stay down!"

His voice stayed calm. Like being shot at happened every day.

He twisted above her. His weapon barked through the shattered rear window.

Each shot careful. Aimed.

Men fell in the street.

Through the noise, she heard Mikhail: "Lead car down. Rear guard engaging."

An explosion shook their world. Orange light flooded the night behind them.

More gunfire. Closer.

Then nothing.

Sudden. Complete.

"Clear." Mikhail's voice through the speakers. "Six hostiles down. This was professional work."

Damian's weight lifted. Ava gulped air that tasted like smoke and copper.

His blood.

Red soaked through white cotton. Spreading fast. His stitches had torn. Fresh wounds added to old.

"Can you walk?"

He was already pulling her from the wreck. His movements stayed controlled, but pain tightened his jaw.

"We need to move." Mikhail stood there with blood on his face. "Lost two good men."

Damian stumbled.

Just once. A single misstep.

Ava caught him. His blood painted her palms warm and wet.

"The Babylon House." His words came shorter now. "Twenty minutes."

"Da, Pakhan."

The surviving SUV waited, door open. As they drove away from the bodies, Ava pressed her hands against his wounds.

Direct pressure. Stop the bleeding.

"Who were they?"

She kept her voice steady. Professional.

"Military trained." Mikhail met her eyes in the mirror. "Expensive. Someone paid well for this."

"But who sent them?"

Damian's laugh came out wet. Blood on his lips.

"Could be anyone. The Rostovs. The Cartel." Something fond crept into his voice. "Or perhaps dear Uncle Marcus, growing tired of our little game."

"Your uncle tries to kill you often?"

"Marcus has been circling lately. Testing defenses. Looking for weakness." He coughed. More blood. "This feels like him. Professional but not quite brave enough."

His hand covered hers, pressing harder against the wounds.

"He should have sent more men."

The SUV climbed higher. Vegas spread below them, a carpet of lights.

"You're bleeding too much."

"Worried about me, Doctor?"

Even wounded, that dangerous smile never left.

"I don't want to be trapped with your corpse."

His fingers wrapped around hers. Blood making them slippery.

"Liar."

She wanted to deny it. Wanted to hate him.

But her hands shook as she tried to stop his bleeding. Her chest felt tight when his breathing caught.

She wasn't just his captive anymore.

She cared if he lived.

That scared her more than the bullets had.

The mansion rose ahead. Every window blazed with light. Music pounded through the walls, bass heavy enough to feel in her bones.

"Your safe house throws parties?"

"Not a safe house." His voice grew weaker. "A demonstration. Of what the new formula can do."

Understanding hit cold.

He wasn't taking her somewhere secure. He was taking her deeper into his world. Even bleeding. Even hunted.

Because Damian Volkov didn't hide from anything.

"Security is doubled tonight." Mikhail spoke as they pulled through the gates. "The new product is too valuable to risk."

Guards stepped from doorways, corners, behind cars. Black suits. Earpieces. Weapons barely hidden.

"Just her."

Damian's order scattered them. No questions. Their wounded king had spoken.

As Mikhail helped him from the car, Ava saw the full damage. Blood had soaked through his jacket. His face had gone grey beneath the tan.

But his grip on her wrist stayed firm.

"Time for another lesson, Doctor."

Even bleeding out, he wouldn't let her go.

She was starting to think he never would.