Bloody Intentions { BL SLOWBURN }

Thirteen : Lying In Wait

Disoriented, Luka barely registered the chaos before everything shifted violently—the sickening tilt as the car lurched sideways, the gut-wrenching weightlessness as it began to roll. His stomach dropped and he felt himself thrown hard against the side, the world flipping and twisting as he was tossed like a ragdoll.

Glass shattered around him, tiny fragments raining down like a hail of biting needles embedding in the exposed skin of his arms and neck. Each flip hammered his body with brutal force, pressing him into his seat only to jolt him violently as the car rolled, metal shrieking and grinding in his ears. Somewhere through the chaos he heard Izzy scream—a frantic, desperate sound that was swallowed almost instantly by the relentless screeching of crushed metal and then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the car came to a jarring stop, the silence deafening. Luka’s thoughts scrambled, his mind sluggish and unable to piece together the fragments of what had just happened until with a slap of clarity, it all hit home: they’d crashed.

Immediately his senses sharpened, the rush of adrenaline flooding his system. He was crumpled awkwardly, his bruised body screaming in protest, throbbing and stinging with cuts that he ignored in his struggle to orient himself. The car was tipped on its side, his disoriented brain slowly registering the angle as he tried to move, but something held him firmly in place. As he stirred, he realized he was pressed tightly against something warm and solid, arms wrapped securely around him. His face was tucked into the curve of a thick neck, his breath ghosting against warm skin as he took in the strange position. Blinking rapidly, it took his brain another few seconds to put two and two together: He was on top of Damon—who was holding him.

“The f**k?” Luka muttered as he struggled to sit up and found himself held firmly in place. “Get off me!”

With a forceful shove, Damon practically pushed him off, releasing him abruptly as if irritated. Luka reeled back, his own hands pressing against the uneven surface of the tipped car to steady himself. He was tempted to give the Novak hitman a kick for good measure when he noticed Izzy, slumped in her seatbelt and hanging awkwardly from it, her head tilted to the side with strands of hair obscuring her face.

“Iz!” He whispered urgently, his voice rough as he reached out, panic building as he took in her still form. Trembling, his fingers brushed against her shoulder. “Iz, talk to me!” He pleaded.

Just as he reached to check her pulse, his hand was abruptly swatted away and he looked up, startled, only to meet Matteo’s fierce gaze. Without a word, Matteo was already reaching for her, unbuckling her seatbelt and pulling her limp body toward him, cradling her close with a possessive, protective hold that only seemed to deepen the lines of rage etched across his face.

Luka’s pulse spiked. “So now you care?” He seethed as his hands curled into tight fists.

If looks could kill, Luka was certain Matteo would have struck him dead a dozen times over. Blood trickling from his own wounds, Matteo bared his teeth in a sneer.

“You don’t touch her.” He warned with a voice low and menacing, barely more than a growl.

Luka’s jaw tightened and with a dark chuckle, he reached for the blade at his hip, his gaze locked on Matteo. “I’d like to see you try to stop me, Novak.”

Matteo’s arms tightened around Izzy and Luka honed in on the movement, his fury spikin. He lifted his body to vault over the seat when a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder stopping him mid-movement. He turned slowly and found Damon’s steady gaze on him.

“Not now.” Damon said quietly, his grip tightening slightly.

Luka’s lips curled in frustration, the adrenaline flooding his veins making his fingers clench even tighter around the handle of his blade. He glanced at Damon, his eyes dark with challenge.

“You’ll stop me?” He asked, voice low and dangerous.

Damon’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”

They stared each other down, the air between them charged as Luka truly contemplated his position. He was certain he could take Izzy from Matteo—maybe even kill the cheating scumbag with one swift movement to save her future trouble. But Damon… Damon wouldn’t go down so easily. Not in such close quarters. Luka could see it in the way Damon’s eyes remained locked on his, unflinching, like he’d already anticipated every move Luka might make. The fight would be messy and he couldn't guarantee it was one he would win. His gaze shifted to Izzy, her face still and pale in Matteo’s arms and the anger knotted in his chest gave way with a sharp breath, his grip loosening on the blade as he shrugged off Damon’s hand with a jerking motion.

“Fine.” He muttered, forcing himself to relax, though his gaze remained sharp, lingering on Matteo as he held Izzy close. “But if you hurt her—”

“She's my wife.” Matteo seethed.

Luka's reply was interrupted as he was shoved roughly to the side as Damon reached for the shattered window above them, his large hands gripping the broken frame, muscles straining as he used it to pull himself up, ignoring Luka’s glare entirely. The car rocked precariously as Damon’s weight shifted the car, his powerful frame slipping through the narrow above with surprising agility for a man of his size. Giving Matteo one last fierce glare, Luka didn’t hesitate to follow. Bracing himself against the uneven metal interior, he maneuverered himself upward, fingers gripping the jagged frame as he hoisted himself through, muscles screaming and protesting with the effort.

Once outside, he slid down from the car and landed on his feet, gaze sweeping the scene around them. Damon stood a few paces away, already assessing their surroundings with a dark, calculating look. The night was still, eerily quiet and Luka’s pulse thundered as he tried to steady his breathing, his eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings. A few feet away, the car that had hit them lay twisted and smoking, its driver’s side door hanging open. The impact had hit their side hard and as Luka’s gaze followed the faint track marks, he noticed the grass in the nearby field had been flattened, leading back into the darkness beyond the road.

Lips pressed into a tight line, his hand drifted back to his blade, his fingers tightening around the familiar weight as he scanned the shadows around them. Whoever had set up this ambush had come from the field itself, lying in wait—and there was no telling if they were still out there, watching. He glanced back at Damon, whose stoic expression had hardened, his eyes darting across the darkened road and tree line with a calm, lethal focus as he two realised what had happened.

“Call for backup.” Luka urged, his voice low and tense.

Damon nodded curtly, pulling his phone from his pocket as he kept his gaze trained on the shadows. The quiet clicks of his keypad seemed almost deafening in the stillness and Luka’s grip tightened on his blade as he scanned the perimeter, senses on high alert. There was no movement, no sound except for a low, pained whimper coming from the driver of their car. Luka registered it briefly, but his focus remained razor-sharp on his immediate priority: protecting Izzy. Steeling himself, he moved toward her side of the car, his hand gripping his weapon tightly as he surveyed the surrounding shadows, his instincts humming with tension.

“Matteo, is she awake?” He asked tightly.

“No. She needs a Doctor.” Matteo rough voice answered.

“Backup is coming.” Damon said, his voice low and steady. That dark gaze settled on Luka, eyes sweeping over him with a calculating slowness that felt oddly deliberate. “You’re bleeding.” He noted, almost under his breath.

Luka glanced down, barely registering the warm trickle of blood seeping from a cut along his arm. The sting hadn’t even registered until Damon mentioned it.

“Not important.” He muttered as his narrowed his eyes took in the abandoned vehicle, the disturbed grass and the calculated position they’d been hit from. “The bastards must have been waiting here, knowing we’d pass. Who the Hell was it?” He asked, his voice tense with simmering anger.

Damon’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes cold as steel. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever they are, I’m going to kill them.”

Luka met his gaze, a silent agreement passing between them.