BRIDE OF MY ENEMY

THE FANG BEHIND THE WHEEL

Chapter 5 - The Fang Behind the Wheel.

Anya’s POV

Two days had passes since I had escaped from Luca Blackfang.

Two long, nerve-wrecking days.

I was now living in the old house of my parents--the only house I had a place to flee to.

I was sitting on my bed now, I was holding my new phone, which was a cheap one, untraceable, and was scrolling through online news sites, hoping that there would be something to tell me that Luca had changed his mind or the death of Viktor would attract the attention of the police, or to even know if I was now officially wanted by the law.

Yet all appeared... ordinary.

I scrolled again, muttering to myself, Normal. Charity events, business mergers, political nonsense in the headline of the news. No gunshots, no bodies, no mafia kidnappings.

Of course not. Nothing would ever get to the surface in the mafia world. They only allowed the people to see what they wanted them to see.

I drew a sigh and threw the phone on the bed, leant back on the headboard as I shut my eyes but the image of the dead body of my parent opened my eyes.

That crash--the hit-and-run--had ruined everything. I was sixteen. One moment they were returning home after a dinner party. The next, their car was smashed on the side of the road. The driver never found.

Several days later, the case was quietly dropped. The truth had been covered with money and power.

However, I never ceased to wonder and with now with enough money to spend around, I chose to go back.

And so, on the very night that I fled out of Luca mansion and arrived here, I made a request. My friend had contacted a man she had trust in; a private investigator that worked with underground sources. I instructed him to get all the details of the hit-and-run that killed my parents. Everything.

Now, all I could do was wait.

I took the phone up once more and began scrolling once again, simply because I wanted my hands to be occupied. Hours stretched into minutes and the only sound to be heard in the house was the slight creaking of the ceiling fan overhead.

Then the phone rang.

The noise startled me so much that I dropped it. The ID displayed the number of my friend.

"Hello?" I said quickly.

“Anya--hear me out, you leave where you are , listen to me,” she said frantically and unevenly. I heard loud breathing, footsteps, as though she were running. "You need to leave. Now!"

"What? What are you talking about?" I asked, sitting up straight.

"They..they found me!" she panted. The men of Luca, they saw me. They questioned me, Anya. They know where you are!"

My blood ran cold. "No... no, that's not possible! You…you were careful…”

“I was!" she cried. But they found me somehow . You have to go. Right now, Anya, go!"

The call cut off.

"Hello?!" I screamed into the phone, but there was no reply.

I pushed my phone into my pocket and ran out of the door.

As I went out the wind of the cold struck my face. I was breathless as I ran down the driveway and into the small street which led to the rear of the premises. The escape car my friend had parked in a little shed behind the old farm road, a battered gray sedan, was easy to overlook,hidden for times like this.

The wind blew through my hair as I arrived there and fumbled with the keys, attempting to get my trembling hands to hold. Finally, the door unlocked. I tossed the bag inside, got behind the wheel and turned on the engine.

The car roared to life. Relief flooded me--briefly.

Then my phone vibrated again.

I momentarily thought that it was my friend. Perhaps she had scrambled through, perhaps she was all right. However, when I was looking at the screen, my stomach turned.

Unknown number.

Still, I couldn't ignore it. Something in me said answer.

A message was received instead of calling. A single photo.

I fumbled, and looked about, and then tapped it open.

The image was loaded slowly, grainy, old, possibly a traffic camera. It depicted a black car, which was smashed at the front. The other smaller car…the one my parents had been riding in…had been hit on the railing. And standing beside the black car was a young teenage, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, caught in mid-motion, staring back at the crash.

My heart started to pound.

"Luca Blackfang, 10 years ago."

My eyes were reading and seeing what my mind was not accepting.

No. No, it couldn't be.

I zoomed and the image became pixelated, though clear enough to make out his face. Smaller, younger, and yet so unarguably him.

Luca.

He was not merely a mafia god who had killed my mate. He was the one who had murdered my parents.

I sat and was frozen, and held the steering wheel tight in my knuckles. My breaths were in short gasps. All the memories of that night, the sirens, the flickering lights, the manner in which the police had mentioned no witnesses, all came back at once.

I pictured his smiling face, his low pitch voice when he explained to me that he liked me. And all this time... the very man who said he wanted to save me has ruined my life before I even heard his name.

Tears blurred my vision. I rubbed them off in a furious manner, my entire body trembling.

My phone rang once more, and I did not dare to look. I couldn't move. I just stared at that picture and the truth was burning my brain.

Luca Blackfang.

The man who killed my mate.

The man who killed my parents.