All Chapters of His Pretty Little Liar - The Devil’s Snare - Book 1: Chapter 281 - Chapter 290

NikoShe does as she's asked, climbing down into the likely depth of hell as the smell from the system below makes me want to vomit, and I follow straight after using only one arm to hold my weight.Gunshots come from multiple resources up above as Sven's bag hits the drain floor by my feet, splashing God knows what all over me. Noting the shots above, I realise they fire with spontaneous bursts, showing me they're desperate and hoping they might hit one of us with nothing but pure unadulterated luck.The sound of the drain cover slamming in place has me gritting out in anxiety as Sven jumps down and out of the way of the line of sight.I stumble to Bianca, moving her down the dimly lit alleyway, pushing her against the wall without a care in the world that I spread the filth of the wall or my own blood all over her.Leaning forward, I crush her between myself and the wall, kissing her lips so ferociously that our teeth clash multiple times as we both fight for the upper hand in our c

BiancaI find myself grappling with an instinctive urge to keep Niko at arm's length, even though deep down, I know I shouldn't. It's a reflexive response to the very question he poses—one I once asked myself the moment Franko insisted I be tracked. The memories of that time are shrouded in a dense fog, a haze that has always engulfed me. I've never truly wished to revisit the details of those tumultuous days—just a year and a half ago, yet they feel like a lifetime away.Ignorant bliss had once wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket, providing comfort until this very moment. But now, an unsettling curiosity gnaws at me: what truly transpired in those lost hours? Why has everything slipped through the cracks of my memory, leaving only shadows in its wake?"How are they tracking you?" His words hang like a prison glass divider between us."I don't know. Maybe they're bluffing," I shrug defensively. How am I to tell him I remember the rape and nothing else? As if that was the mos

NikoNavigating the rusted, creaky gate was no simple feat; every ounce of determination surged through Sven as he pushed against the stubborn metal, and the metal cutters made deep gouges. With a final, grating screech, the gate fell into the shallow water. We emerged into the vast expanse of the ocean, where the gentle waves lapped playfully at our feet, their cool touch a refreshing balm against the heat. The tide still lingered at a miraculously low point, revealing the soft, grainy sand beneath us where little fish moved with speed through the water. I glanced up at the sun, its golden rays beginning to dip towards the horizon—four p.m. or later, I guessed—a stark reminder that time was slipping away, making way for an evening of darkness, the same evening I prayed for just an hour or so ago. Ignoring the sharp throb in my shoulder, I leapt into the inviting water, avoiding the metal we just littered inside, a cascade of salty spray invigorating my senses as it splashed against

Continued: "Or the shed could become a target that ends our lives when they retaliate and blast it to oblivion, Sven," I warned, the weight of our precarious situation settling heavily in my chest once again. Christ, on every avenue we look down, there is bloodshed and upset. There is also the vast possibility that Bianca will be taken and harmed because of her father's previous choices to seek out the help of the Densels. What did he need so badly to give them Bianca in payment anyway? Does Bianca even know? That's not something I want to dredge up, so I refuse to ask the question aloud. Sven sighed, his brow furrowed in thought, the light casting shadows across the determined lines of his face. "Well, what choice do we have, Niko? Every avenue we consider seems to lead us further down a path towards doom. Perhaps we could turn the boat to our advantage; it's more cover than we have right now," he argued as he spanned his arm around us to the open beach where there was no c

Continued: "That was...," he stammers, still processing the swift manoeuvre. "Impressive? Maybe," I reply nonchalantly. "By the way, do you think there'll be a stall for first aid supplies around here?" "Over there," he nods. I follow his gaze with a sense of urgency, my heart racing as I spot a large stall that stretches across several tables, each cluttered with an assortment of medical supplies. The need surging within me is primal, a drive that propels me forward with determination. Niko desperately needs medical care, and I am more than capable of procuring what he requires. My fingers graze the edge of the stall, and I feel the familiar crunch of packets of gauze tumble into my waiting grasp. I shove them deep into my pockets, barely registering the rough texture of the fabric against my skin as I push on. My eyes land on a suturing kit. It seems strangely out of place yet oddly fitting for the shadowy dealings of the mafia surrounding me. Just as I reach for a packet, a