Ares was at the verge of pushing his full length into my slick entrance when the screeching of tires started filling the silence.
He pulled out of me, pulling my pants up my legs again. A frown creased my forehead as I watched him pulling up his zipper. He jogged to the back of his car, opening his trunk.
"Ares, what's going on?" I asked, fear rooting itself deep inside my bones.
"I think the camp is under attack. I'm guessing it's the Russians," he explained as he pulled a matte black rifle from a silver case. He screwed a silencer on the gun, grabbing enough ammunition to kill a hundred men.
The Russians were still hunting me. Vissarian wasn't going to give up until he had me locked up in his dungeon.
Ares grabbed my hand, leading us up a dark staircase. He set his gun up on the
