Forbidden Desires: A DARK ROMANCE NOVEL

Chapter 20

The man’s voice echoes in the cold night air, carrying a sinister edge as he smirks beneath his mask. "You’re lucky," he says, his tone casual, as though they’ve just survived a boring Tuesday. "I’m letting you go. Consider it a gift... I like to prolong lives a little longer."

Behind his mask, Mickey rolls his eyes. This guy really thinks he’s playing the hero.

The man turns, disappearing into the shadows with a smug swagger. Mickey stands still, arms crossed, his mind racing, but his body a quiet fortress of control. Ziana stands beside him, still in a daze, her breathing heavy. It takes her a moment before she’s able to snap out of it.

"What the hell just happened?" Her voice is shaky, still processing, but the fury in her eyes is impossible to miss. "Who the hell was that? Why were we even there in the first place?"

Instead of responding, Mickey gently grabs her by the arm, guiding her toward the car parked nearby. Her eyes narrow in defiance, her body stiffening.

"Don’t touch me," she snaps, shaking off his grip. Without warning, she shoves him away, her fingers diving for the gun tucked in his waistband. In one fluid motion, she pulls it free, aiming it squarely at his chest.

"Spill. Now." Her words are firm, her gaze never wavering.

Mickey doesn’t flinch. Instead, he smirks beneath the mask, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Before Ziana can even register what’s happening, the gun is no longer in her hands. Mickey has it, and in the same motion, he’s got her pinned against the car, her back to his chest. Her breath catches as she feels the solid heat of his body against hers.

"Let go of me!" she hisses, squirming, but she’s caught in his grip.

Instead of forcing her away, Mickey tucks a loose strand of her red hair behind her ear. The simple action sends a shock of warmth through her chest, leaving her breathless and momentarily still. Ziana can feel his presence all around her. Damn him.

"What are you, some kind of... damn superhero or something?" she growls, trying to shake off the heat creeping into her veins.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he just releases her, stepping back and effortlessly taking the gun with him.

Ziana steadies herself, her hands clenched into fists. She’s pissed off, confused, and still way too close to him for comfort. But she doesn’t let it show.

---

Mickey slides into the driver’s seat with ease, the leather creaking beneath his weight as he adjusts the rearview mirror. He doesn’t wait for Ziana to say anything before starting the car. The engine roars to life, cutting through the tense silence between them. The headlights carve through the dark streets ahead, illuminating the empty roads as he drives, his focus unwavering.

Ziana remains frozen for a few moments, her breath still shaky, but gradually, she exhales deeply, trying to calm her pounding heart. The chaotic scene they just escaped feels like a distant nightmare, but the reality of being stuck in a car with a masked stranger—who clearly has more secrets than she knows how to handle—keeps her on edge.

She slides into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind her with a little too much force. The silence is suffocating. The only sound is the hum of the engine as Mickey skillfully navigates the streets. Her curiosity is like a pressure building inside her chest, but she bites her tongue for a moment longer.

The car cuts through the city, the familiar yet eerie glow of the city lights casting shadows inside the vehicle. Ziana can’t take it anymore.

“You know," she says, breaking the quiet with a wry grin, "you kind of remind me of someone.”

Mickey’s grip tightens on the steering wheel just a fraction, a flash of something in his dark eyes before it’s hidden behind the mask. He keeps his face unreadable, but internally, the gears are turning. The last thing he needs is for Ziana to start making connections.

“Oh, really?” he responds, his voice flat, his tone casual. "Who?"

Ziana doesn’t hesitate, her lips curling into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "A man who was a real pain in the ass," she says, her gaze narrowing as she stares out the window. "He's dead now, at least that's what we all think... but I really hope he isn’t."

The words hang in the air like a fog. Mickey’s heart skips a beat, his thoughts spinning, but he doesn’t let it show. He keeps his face neutral, his breathing steady. "I see," he mutters, barely audible over the sound of the engine. "Hope is a dangerous thing, you know."

Ziana doesn’t respond right away. Her words from earlier seem to have struck a nerve, and she knows it. She looks over at him, her gaze steady, testing him for any flicker of emotion.

Another long silence stretches between them, but Ziana’s mind is still whirring with questions. She shifts in her seat, feeling the weight of his stillness beside her. Her frustration starts to bubble again.

"So, are you finally going to tell me who you are?" she asks, voice more insistent this time.

Mickey doesn’t answer right away. He glances over at her, the faintest shift in his posture indicating he’s heard her, but his expression remains cold. He takes a long, measured breath before pulling the car over to the side of the road, the tires squealing slightly as they come to a halt. The engine idles, and the car shudders before everything goes still.

Ziana leans forward, her eyes narrowing with expectation. "Well?" she presses. "Are you going to answer me?"

Mickey sighs deeply, the mask muffling the exhale, but his shoulders seem to slump slightly under the weight of her relentless questioning. He pulls his hands from the wheel, his fingers tapping the dashboard, a moment of hesitation before he speaks.

“If I tell you who I am,” he says slowly, his tone deliberately flat, “you’d kill me on the spot.”

Ziana laughs, the sound rough and edged with disbelief. "That bad, huh?" she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "I mean, you’ve got a dramatic flair, I’ll give you that."

Mickey’s eyes flick to her, the slightest shift in his posture. He doesn’t reply immediately, but the tension is palpable, hanging in the air like a sword ready to drop.

Ziana rolls her eyes, the frustration leaking into her voice. "Honestly, you're like a walking mystery box. I get it. You’ve got a thousand secrets, and you’re not gonna share. But I’m getting tired of being kept in the dark. If you think I’m going to just sit here while you turn me into your personal pawn, you’re wrong."

Mickey doesn’t flinch. Instead, he opens his door, his movements smooth and practiced. "You’ll understand soon enough."

He’s halfway out of the car when Ziana leans forward again, her voice sharp. "Don't walk away from me now."

Mickey pauses, his hand hovering over the door handle. He doesn’t turn around, but his voice is low, almost thoughtful. "I’m not walking away. I’m giving you space. You’re not ready for the truth."

Ziana’s face tightens. "Oh, I’m ready, alright. What are you scared of?"

He takes a slow breath before turning back, closing the door behind him with deliberate force. His eyes meet hers, colder than before.

"I’m not scared of anything," he mutters, but his voice is laced with something Ziana can’t quite place. "I’m just trying to keep you alive."

Ziana looks him over, her gaze unwavering. “If you want to keep me alive, then stop playing games and start telling me the truth.”

Another pause. Mickey remains silent, the weight of his decision hanging in the air. Ziana’s heartbeat quickens with the anticipation of whatever is coming next.

Finally, he speaks, his voice steady but barely audible. "The truth is... dangerous. It’ll change everything. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

Ziana stares at him, the weight of his words sinking in. "I don’t know," she admits quietly. "But I’m not afraid of the truth."

Mickey nods slowly, then leans back against the car, crossing his arms. He studies her for a long moment, as though weighing her resolve. The silence between them stretches thin, fragile.

"I was once someone you trusted," he says at last, his voice low, almost imperceptible. "Before everything went to hell. If I tell you who I am, you might not even recognize me."

Ziana’s breath hitches in her chest. "What do you mean by that?"

Mickey doesn’t answer. He just watches her, his face unreadable. Then, with a final glance at the road ahead, he mutters, "The truth’s coming for you, whether you're ready or not."

And with that, the car goes silent again, leaving Ziana to ponder what he's truly hiding—what she’s about to learn.

Mickey pulls the car to the side of the road, the tires screeching in protest. The hum of the engine dies down as he shifts it into park, the faint glow of the dashboard illuminating his face. He doesn’t look at Ziana as he speaks, his voice as cold and deliberate as ever.

"Your car’s just up ahead," he says, his words measured but carrying an unmistakable weight. It's clear now that their time together is nearing an end. "Time to leave."

Ziana’s eyes flicker toward him. She feels the shift in the air, that moment when everything suddenly becomes too real, too final. She knows he’s giving her an exit, but there’s something about this moment that feels unfinished.

"Thank you," she says, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts raging in her mind. She opens the door and steps out of the car. But she hesitates, fingers gripping the edge of the door, as something gnaws at her, something unspoken that needs to be addressed.

She turns back, meeting his gaze, her eyes narrowing. "Will I ever see you again? You're quite intriguing, you know."

Mickey’s expression remains stoic, his gaze flicking to her before returning to the road ahead. "I am not intriguing, Montana," he says, his tone flat. "I am dangerous. Trust me, you don’t want to be near me. I bring nothing but trouble."

Ziana chuckles, the sound more amused than anything else. "Dangerous, huh?" She steps back, standing her ground. "I’ve dealt with worse. So, will I see you again?"

Mickey glances over at her then, a flicker of something—something unreadable—dancing in his dark eyes. "You're drawn to darkness, Montana, and that's not healthy. It's not safe. And as for seeing me again... probably. And probably not."

She doesn’t let the uncertainty in his words faze her. She knows there’s more to it, more layers he’s keeping hidden. Ziana smirks, her arms crossing over her chest. "Hmm, so cryptic," she muses, clearly unbothered. "That’s real reassuring."

Just as Ziana is about to turn to leave, Mickey speaks again, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of something... calculated.

"I don’t think you’ll be getting attacked again," he says, his eyes locking onto hers. "So, driving back alone should not be a problem."

Ziana’s brow quirks at the comment. "You’re really not one for small talk, are you?" she retorts, but her heart races with the knowledge that there’s more to that statement than he’s letting on. She knows he’s hiding something—knows that he’s probably got eyes on her at all times, but she doesn’t press it.

Without another word, she closes the door with a soft thud, walking away to find her car. She tries to shake the feeling of being watched, the sensation of Mickey’s eyes lingering on her as she walks through the darkness, her mind spinning with questions that she knows won’t be answered tonight.

The night air feels colder now, her breath visible in the moonlight as she spots her car a few yards ahead. Ziana's hand wraps around the door handle, but just before she opens it, she hears Mickey’s voice one last time.

"You won’t be alone for long, Montana," he says, his tone heavier this time, filled with something darker, more foreboding. "You think you can handle this? You think you can handle me? You’re not ready."

Ziana pauses, the words sinking into her skin like ice. She doesn’t turn around. She doesn’t need to. But the weight of his warning lingers in the air like an ominous shadow, pulling at her, urging her to question everything.

"I don’t need to be ready," she calls back, her voice sharper than before, the defiance in her words a thin veil over the uncertainty creeping inside her. "I just need to survive."

With a final glance over her shoulder, she slides into her car, slamming the door shut. The engine roars to life, and she speeds away, but Mickey’s cryptic warning echoes in her mind as the city lights blur past.

It’s only when she turns a corner that she spots something strange—a black car, parked just off the road, its headlights dimmed. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She swears she sees someone in the driver’s seat, but when she blinks, it’s gone.

Ziana’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, her mind racing with the thought that Mickey’s words were more than just a warning.

And she hasn’t even begun to scratch the surface of the darkness she’s about to dive into.