CHAPTER SIX--MIDNIGHT INTERACTIONS
1077 Words
CHAPTER SIX--MIDNIGHT INTERACTIONS
_______ Jana POV_____
“Nothing, give it back. “I try to snatch it back but he holds it above his head. I won’t be able to reach it even if I tried to jump for it. I glare at him.
“Who was that man ?” Vincent demands.
“Did you follow me ?”
“You were outside with no guards and dressed so informally. I had every reason to. Now answer the damn question.”
“My friend.”
“What type of friend do I not know about ?”
“I can’t have friends you don’t know about now ?”
“No”
“Are you serious ?”
“Yes, you can tell me or I can find out for myself. Your choice.” He says, I grit my teeth angrily, but there’s nothing I can really do.
“He’s Dan, my friend from art school.”
“I see. And what did Dan from art school give my wife ?”
“I’m not your wife. Well not for long anyway.”
“You’ve still not given up your useless protest?”
“Looks like what I did wasn’t enough. I guess have to protest harder for you to take me seriously then. Although I do wonder, my dear husband, how much damage control can you do ?”
“Why don’t you try me? I’d warn you though. it is only you who’d get burnt in the process.” He taunts me with a mocking smile.
“You aksed fro it. Don’t come crawling and begging later.”
He throw his head back and explodes into laughter.He though i was just talking.
Vincent's fingers closed tightly around the package as he stepped forward, expression cold. "Let's go home."
"I'm not going anywhere with you." My voice shook, but I stood firm. If I followed him back now, he'd double the guards, and I'd never get another chance.
"Don't make this difficult," Vincent warned, his eyes narrowing.
In a flash, I grabbed the package from his grip and bolted into the forest. Branches whipped against my face, thorns snagging my clothes. Behind me, Vincent cursed loudly and thundered after me.
"Jana!" he barked. "You can't outrun me."
My heart pounded, breath ragged as I pushed myself harder. My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled forward, tumbling hard into a hollowed-out pit. Pain jolted through my shoulder, and dirt filled my mouth. I scrambled to my feet, my chest heaving.
Above, Vincent's shadow appeared at the edge of the pit, his face illuminated by moonlight.
"Looks like you ran yourself into a corner," he mocked. His smug grin made my blood boil.
"Help me out of here," I snapped.
"Not so fast." His gaze drifted to the package clutched tightly in my arms. "Hand it over first."
"No."
"No?" His voice dipped dangerously low. "I can leave you down there for hours. Maybe longer."
My stomach twisted. "It’s not what you think."
"Oh?" He knelt at the pit's edge, leaning closer. "Then why run?"
"Because if I went with you, you'd lock me up like a prisoner!"
"That depends on what’s in that package." His smile vanished. "Give it to me. Now."
"I can’t."
"You will."
"It’s medicine," I burst out. "For Ana. She's been in pain ever since you—"
"Because of you," Vincent cut in coldly. "She’s in pain because you sent her to smuggle a phone, and I had no choice."
"You always have a choice," I shot back. My voice wavered, my fingers curling tightly around the paper-wrapped bundle. "I couldn’t leave her like that. She doesn’t deserve to suffer."
For a moment, Vincent said nothing. His gaze lingered on me — hair tangled, face smudged with dirt, tears threatening to spill. His fingers flexed at his sides.
"Hand it over," he said quietly.
"Please," I whispered. "Don’t take this away from me. I owe her this much."
Silence stretched between us. Finally, Vincent exhaled sharply, his hand reaching down into the pit.
"Come up," he ordered.
"Are you going to take the package?"
"I haven’t decided yet." His fingers twitched impatiently. "Take my hand."
I hesitated, then grasped his wrist. He pulled me up with alarming ease, my body nearly colliding with his chest. His fingers dug into my arm, keeping me close.
"Next time you run," he murmured into my ear, voice like silk laced with steel, "I won’t come chasing."
"You’ll just lock me away instead," I muttered.
Vincent’s grip tightened briefly before he let me go. "Get in the car," he ordered. "And keep that package close. I'll be the one to decide what happens next."
I kept my head down as I walked to his sleek black car. My fingers clenched the package so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The cold leather of the seat sent a chill down my spine as I climbed inside. Vincent slid in beside me, the driver silent and motionless at the wheel.
"Drive," Vincent commanded, voice cold as ice. The car lurched forward, leaving the dark woods behind.
Minutes felt like hours. The silence weighed heavy, only broken by the sound of Vincent’s fingers drumming rhythmically against his knee. His gaze never left me, burning with quiet menace.
"You were reckless," he said at last. "Running off like that. What if I hadn't been the one to find you?"
"I can take care of myself," I muttered.
He laughed bitterly. "You? The girl who tripped into an open grave? Don’t flatter yourself."
I glared at him, but he leaned closer, invading my space.
"I should teach you a lesson," he whispered darkly. "You need to remember your place."
"I remember just fine," I shot back. "I'm not your property."
His hand shot out, gripping my chin tightly. His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I jerked away, but he held firm.
"You’re what I say you are," he murmured. "And right now, you’re a wife who’s very close to losing her privileges."
"Let go," I growled, twisting in his grasp.
"Make me," he challenged.
I froze, and in that instant, he leaned in. His breath ghosted across my lips, his eyes daring me to push him away.
"You want to test me?" he murmured. "Go ahead."
I shoved his hand away, heart pounding. "I’m not afraid of you."
His smile was sharp and humourless. "You should be."
- Writer
