LIKE IT OR NOT, YOU'RE MINE: A Don's obsession

~~Ines~~ “Don't move.” The voice cut through the rain and I froze immediately. A man stood several steps away, a gun hanging loosely from his tattooed hand. Behind him, two men knelt down and blood ran down their swollen faces, thinning into pink streams beneath the rain. My breath caught and my eyes widened. I didn't know who he was. I didn't know what he'd done. But I knew one thing. I was never supposed to see this. ~~~ TWENTY MINUTES EARLIER. I had just finished my night shift at the company where I worked as a janitor. The sky was pitch-black, and a cold breeze slipped beneath my uniform, raising goosebumps along my arms. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled low across the sky. I hugged myself as I crossed the nearly empty parking lot toward the road. I pulled my phone from my handbag and called Hector, my fiancé. He'd promised to pick me up when my shift ended. It rang but there was no answer. With a frustrated sigh, I slipped the phone back into my bag and started walking home. A light drizzle began before I'd gone far. Then the rain came harder. Within minutes, it was pouring. Water soaked through my uniform, plastered my hair to my face, and trickled coldly down the back of my neck. My shoes squelched with every step, and I could barely see through the curtain of rain. I had no umbrella, and waiting it out wasn't an option. So I ran. At the next turn, I spotted a familiar street. A small store stood at the end of it, its wide awning offering enough shelter to keep me dry until the rain eased. I hurried toward it. But when I reached the intersection, I stopped. What I saw on the other side of the road made me forget about the rain entirely. A man stood in the middle of the rain. He was staring straight at me, his expression cold and irritated, like I had just interrupted something I had no business seeing. I wasn't close enough to make out every detail, but I could see his face clearly enough through the rain. A deep scar ran across his cheek. Wet strands of dark hair clung to his forehead and temples. His eyes were like two locked doors, giving nothing away. Cold. Distant. Deadly. His leather coat was soaked through, and rainwater dripped from the hem. There were two cars parked by the side of the road which I assumed belonged to him. Then I noticed the tattoo covering the hand hanging at his side. And the gun resting loosely in it. My breath caught. A f*****g gun Suddenly, the rain didn't feel like rain anymore. It felt like thousands of tiny needles striking my skin, cold water running beneath my clothes and down my spine as I stood there like an i***t. Behind him stood a second, broader man, his own weapon drawn. At their feet, two men knelt in the rain. Blood washed down their swollen faces, thinning into pink streams across the pavement. My brain screamed at me to run, but my muscles locked. If I turned my back, he would shoot. I slowly raised my hands. The strap of my handbag slipped off my shoulder and hit the wet ground. I didn't flinch. Keep your hands visible. Show them you aren't a threat. "I didn't see anything," I said, my voice barely carrying over the storm. I took a slow, calculated step backward. Just far enough to break his line of sight around the corner. The man lifted his gun. The barrel leveled directly at my chest. “One more step," he said, his voice cutting cleanly through the drumming rain, "and you die." I froze. He gave a short, sharp jerk of the gun, motioning me forward. Every survival instinct I had clawed at my throat, but the safety was off, and his finger rested heavily on the trigger. I forced my legs to move, closing the distance until I could see the ragged bullet wound in the shoulder of one of the kneeling men. “Please, don't kill me.” My voice cracked. “I won't say a word about what I—” “Quiet.” The single word silenced me. He seemed to notice how badly I was shaking, because he slowly lowered his gun. Then he stepped closer. I lifted my eyes to his face and found myself staring straight into his steel-gray eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here?” he asked. My mouth went dry. “Because I…” Nothing came out. “I… I…” His gun suddenly came up again. I threw my hands over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. The next second…. BANG! BANG! The shots cracked through the rain. I flinched so hard my shoulders jerked. For a moment, I waited for the pain but it never came. I slowly opened my eyes and saw that the two men who had been kneeling moments ago were sprawled on the wet ground, completely still. My eyes widened. He had killed them. Just like that. No hesitation. No remorse. I stared at him, unable to understand what I had just witnessed. Who the hell was this man? The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he pivoted toward me. I backpedaled before I could think, my heel catching on a loose stone, sending a tremor up my spine. He closed the gap in three long strides and his fingers wrapped around my wrist. My pulse hammered against his grip, like a frantic bird against a cage. Dios mío, don't let this be the end. I prayed in my mind. “What is your name?” His voice rolled low, his Mexican accent thick on his tongue. “Ines.” The name came out thin, barely a breath. I swallowed, tasting copper from where I'd bitten my cheek. “Ines Alacron.” His eyebrows lifted—two dark arcs that carved shadows across his brow. Then, he glanced over his shoulder at the man who'd been standing statue-still behind him. “Luca.” He ordered. “Make sure she gets home safely.” Luca's face went rigid, a muscle jumping in his temple. “But she's a witness.” His words came out clipped, urgent. “We can't keep her alive.” He turned back to me then. When he spoke again, it was to Luca, but his eyes never left mine. “She's not to be touched.” Each syllable landed with the finality of a vault door slamming shut. “I'll deal with her myself. But not today.” My heart lurched as his words rang in my ear. He released my wrist, and the absence of his grip left my skin tingling. Without another glance, he turned and strode toward the waiting car. The taillights bled red across the gravel as the door closed behind him with a soft, expensive thunk. A moment later, the engine roared to life and the car disappeared down the rain-soaked street. I stood there, shivering under the rain, wrist burning, lungs aching, watching the car pull away into the dark. What the hell had just happened? A few minutes ago, he had been pointing a gun at my head. Now he'd ordered his men to take me home. It just didn't make any f*****g sense. “This way, ma'am.” I turned. Luca was gesturing toward the second car. “No.” I took a step backward. “I can walk on my own.” “Ma'am—” I didn't wait for him to finish. I turned and ran. The rain slapped against my face as I sprinted down the street, his coat clutched tightly around me. My shoes splashed through puddles, my breath coming in ragged bursts, but I didn't stop until I was far enough away from them. Yet even as I ran, one question wouldn't leave my mind. Why had that terrifying man suddenly decided to spare me?