Chapter 11
1050 Words
Nicholas’s mind worked fast.
Surrendering wasn’t an option.
Neither was walking out of here without spilling blood.
His fingers twitched—calculating.
Five guns trained on him.
Two on Elara.
Dimitri watched him with amusement.
Like he had already won.
Big f*****g mistake.
Nicholas turned slightly, murmuring low, only for Elara.
“When I move, you drop.”
Elara tensed. “What—”
He didn’t wait.
Didn’t give her a choice.
One second he was still—calm. Controlled.
The next?
He snapped into motion.
Gunfire Exploded
Nicholas lunged left, twisting Dimitri’s nearest man’s wrist—forcing him to fire at his own crew.
A scream. A body hit the ground.
Luca took the opening, dropping two more.
Elara hit the ground as bullets sliced through the air above her.
Nicholas grabbed a fallen gun—pivoted.
One shot.
A man went down.
Two shots.
Another body collapsed.
Elara scrambled back, eyes wide, watching Nicholas move like a lethal force of nature.
But they were still outnumbered.
And Dimitri?
He was f*****g laughing.
“You really think you’re getting out of here, Wolfe?” Dimitri smirked, pulling a gun from his jacket. “You should’ve taken my deal.”
Nicholas’s rage sharpened.
His gun snapped up.
One shot.
Straight at Dimitri’s head.
But the bastard was fast. Too fast.
He dodged left— the bullet barely grazing his shoulder.
Then—
Elara screamed.
Nicholas turned just in time to see one of Dimitri’s men grab her.
A gun to her temple.
Nicholas’s stomach dropped.
“Drop it,” the Russian snarled, pressing the barrel harder against her skull.
Elara’s eyes locked onto Nicholas. Fierce. Terrified. Trusting.
Nicholas’s grip tightened on his gun.
His mind whirled.
Options. Escape routes. Kill shots.
Dimitri chuckled darkly. “Looks like you’re out of moves, Wolfe.”
Nicholas’s chest rose. Fell.
Then—
A slow, deadly smirk curved his lips.
Dimitri’s eyes narrowed.
“What the f**k are you smiling about?”
Nicholas tilted his head.
Then the lights cut out.
The room plunged into darkness.
For a split second, everything was silent.
Then—
Chaos.
Shouts. Movement. The sharp click of guns being c****d.
But Nicholas?
He was already moving.
He memorized this room the second he walked in.
Every exit. Every cover. Every single man Dimitri brought with him.
He only needed three seconds.
One.
Nicholas lunged toward Elara.
She gasped as he ripped her away from the Russian holding her—twisting the bastard’s wrist until a sickening c***k echoed through the room.
The man screamed, gun clattering to the floor.
Nicholas caught it before it even hit the ground.
Two.
A shot rang out—too close.
Nicholas grabbed Elara, shoving her behind cover.
“Stay down.” His voice was low, absolute.
Elara’s breathing was ragged, but she nodded.
Nicholas turned—rage sharp and cold in his chest.
Three.
His gun lifted. Fired.
A Russian dropped.
Dimitri cursed in Russian. “Find him! Kill him!”
Nicholas smirked. They wouldn’t.
Because now?
They were playing his game.
Her heart pounded.
The room was dark—gunfire flashing like lightning.
But all she could focus on was Nicholas.
The way he moved through the shadows like a predator.
The way he didn’t hesitate. Didn’t miss.
Elara knew Nicholas was dangerous.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
A Russian stumbled near her—gun raised.
Elara reacted.
She grabbed a metal pipe from the ground—swung hard.
It cracked against his skull.
The man collapsed.
Elara gasped for breath, hands shaking.
Then—
A strong arm wrapped around her waist.
She whirled— nearly swinging again—
Until she met familiar, piercing eyes.
Nicholas.
“We need to go. Now.” His voice was rough. Urgent.
Elara nodded, swallowing hard.
But just as they turned toward the exit—
A gun c****d behind them.
Nicholas froze.
Dimitri stood there—blood dripping from a wound in his arm.
His gun trained directly on Elara.
Nicholas’s rage turned lethal.
“Drop your weapon, Wolfe.” Dimitri sneered. “Or I put a bullet in her skull.”
Elara’s breath hitched.
Nicholas’s jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Then, slowly—
He raised his hands.
But he wasn’t surrendering.
Because Dimitri didn’t realize one thing.
Nicholas Wolfe never played fair.
The car was silent.
Elara’s pulse was still racing, her hands clammy in her lap.
She had just shot a man.
A week ago, she was a normal woman with a corporate job.
Now?
She was sitting next to Nicholas Wolfe, a man drenched in blood and power, driving her away from a crime scene.
And the worst part?
She didn’t feel regret.
She felt… alive.
And that terrified her.
Nicholas drove with calm precision, like they hadn’t just left a m******e.
Like this was normal.
And maybe, for him, it was.
Her fingers curled into her dress. Tight. Unsteady.
She needed answers.
Now.
"Who the hell are you?" Elara whispered, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence.
Nicholas didn’t look at her.
Didn’t flinch.
But something in his posture shifted.
Dangerous.
Unapologetic.
Finally, he spoke—his voice low, steady, absolute.
“You already know.”
Elara’s chest tightened.
She did.
She just didn’t want to admit it.
Nicholas Wolfe wasn’t just a billionaire CEO.
He was something more.
Something deadly.
And now?
She was too deep to escape.
At the Underground Safehouse
The second they entered the safehouse, Nicholas turned—trapping Elara against the wall.
His hands caged her in, his body radiating heat and tension.
His eyes burned into hers—dark, unreadable.
“Say it.” His voice was low, commanding.
Elara’s heart slammed against her ribs.
“Nicholas—”
“Say it, Elara.”
She swallowed, her breath shaky.
“You’re more than just a businessman.”
Nicholas’s jaw tightened. Slow nod.
Her lips parted. “You’re dangerous.”
Another nod.
Her stomach clenched. “You’re a—”
Nicholas’s fingers tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze.
“I am everything you feared I was.”
Elara’s breath hitched.
God.
She should be terrified.
She should be running.
But instead?
She was drowning in him.
Her world had already shifted.
And Nicholas Wolfe was at the center of it.
- Writer
