《Sinfully His: Craving The Devil's Son》全部章節：第 81 章 - 第 90 章

POV: ClaraI looked at Nikolai, huddled in the shadows of the ledge we had managed to reach. He looked terrible. His face was gray, his hair was a matted mess of mud and blood, and his breathing sounded like a rusty engine trying to start. I hated leaving him. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a giant fist just thinking about walking away from him for even a second."Nikolai, I have to go up there," I whispered, kneeling beside him. "I need to find a way out. We can't stay on this cliff forever."He reached out, his hand trembling as he caught my wrist. His grip wasn't strong anymore, but it was desperate. "Clara, no. It’s too dangerous. Victor’s men... they’ll be patrolling the road.""I know," I said, trying to sound a lot braver than I felt. "But look at you. You’re burning up and your leg is a mess. If I don't get you a doctor or at least a warm bed, you aren't going to make it. I’m going to find Henry’s car.""The car is a trap," he groaned, his eyes flickering shut. "V

POV: ClaraThe rain lashed the world into gray sheets as we stumbled up the overgrown path to the cabin. My arms burned from supporting Nikolai’s weight. He was heavy, even half-dragged, his soaked clothes clinging to every line of muscle and injury. Blood mixed with rainwater on his side, dark and stubborn. The safe house... if it could even be called that, was little more than a forgotten hunter’s shack tucked against the pines. It was small, dusty and so fucking cold. But it had four walls and a roof and that would be more than enough for now. After all, beggars couldn't be choosers. I kicked the door open. It slammed against the wall with a hollow bang. Inside smelled of pine needles, but it was dry. I lowered Nikolai onto the edge of the narrow cot, his breath coming in sharp, frustrated hisses.“Stay here,” I whispered, already moving. I found a lantern, matches that still worked, and a stack of somewhat clean blankets. The generator outside started working after three tries,

POV: ClaraThe little grocery store smelled like stale popcorn and old wooden floors. It was light-years away from the high-end boutique markets I’d gotten used to over the last few months. There were no imported cheeses, no organic juices, and definitely no private security guards waiting by the door to carry my bags. The luxury was gone, and the transition felt like dropping from a warm bed straight onto a block of ice.I pulled the hood of my oversized gray sweatshirt lower over my forehead, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The plastic sunglasses I’d found in the truck’s glove box were slipping down the bridge of my nose because my face was slick with a cold sweat. I felt like a giant, glowing target walking down the narrow aisles.Every time a floorboard creaked, I flinched. Every time an old lady looked up from her shopping cart, my stomach did a sickening flip."Did she see the morning news?" I muttered to myself, my eyes darting toward the cash register. "Do

POV: ClaraThe knock came again. It was three short, deliberate taps against the weathered wood, sounding incredibly loud in the suffocating silence of the cabin.My heart didn't just skip a beat; it stopped completely. My lungs froze, and I could feel the cold sweat gluing my oversized hoodie to my spine. Nikolai’s grip on my shoulder tightened until it was borderline painful, his fingers digging into my flesh like iron claws. He didn't make a sound, but his breathing turned into a low, dangerous hiss. He leaned his weight against the barricaded door, his good hand reaching blindly for the heavy wooden chair we had jammed under the knob."Clara," a voice called out from the other side.It wasn't deep and smooth like Silas’s. It was rough, gasping, and entirely familiar."Henry?" I whispered, my voice cracking."Open the damn door, Clara," Henry panted from the porch. "It's me. I'm alone. Hurry up before someone sees me."I looked up at Nikolai. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, and swi

POV: NikolaiThe silence that followed the slamming of those car doors was louder than any explosion. I stood frozen on my one good foot, my palm sweating against the grip of the Beretta. Through the thin slats of the blinds, I didn't see the flashing blue and red lights of local police cruisers. I saw three matte-black SUVs, their engines hot and ticking in the crisp morning air. Heavy-set men in tactical gear and balaclavas were spilling out of the doors, moving with a synchronized, military precision that I knew all too well.It was Victor’s private recovery team. His personal cleaners. They didn't come to make an arrest or build a case for the evening news. They came to wipe the slate clean and bring back the dead."They’re wrapping around the back," Henry whispered, his voice shaking but his hands steady as he checked the magazine of his Glock. He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot and pleading. "Nikolai, I swear to you, I didn't want this. I can draw their fire. I can buy you