Thayer groans into my mouth, a deep, primal sound of pure surrender. His hand at the back of my head tightens, holding me impossibly closer, completely devouring the kiss even in his unconscious state. His hips buck upward instinctively, grinding the heavy, hard length of his arousal directly against the aching, desperate heat pooling between my legs.
A sharp, breathless moan tears from my throat. The physical sensation is completely overwhelming. My body arches against his, completely abandoning the last shreds of my conditioned shame. I want him to wake up. I want him to open those terrifying, glacial gray eyes and completely ruin me on the floor of this cabin.
But his body is completely exhausted. The feverish surge of energy is fleeting. His grip on my hair slowly relaxes, his hand sliding down to rest heavily on the small of my back. The frantic rhythm of his breathing slows, the deep, exhausted sleep claiming him once again.
I pull back slightly, my lips swollen and throbbing, my chest heaving as I stare down at his peaceful, bruised face.
I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady, rhythmic thud of his heart. I am completely trapped. Not by the locked doors of a penthouse, not by the heavy steel walls of a bunker, but by the undeniable, terrifying reality that I am completely, irredeemably in love with the devil.
The storm outside eventually begins to break.
The violent howling of the wind tapers off into a low, mournful whistle. The torrential rain slows to a steady, freezing drizzle. The faint, muted gray light of dawn begins to filter through thecracks in the wooden walls, illuminating the grotesque, bloody reality of our survival.
I am completely exhausted, hovering on the very edge of unconsciousness myself, lulled by the steady heat radiating from Thayer’s body.
Then, the absolute silence of the morning is shattered.
It starts as a low, mechanical hum in the distance. The unmistakable, heavy rumble of powerful engines cutting through the dense forest.
My eyes snap open. Every muscle in my body goes completely rigid.
The engines grow louder, drawing closer to the abandoned cabin. The heavy crunch of specialized off-road tires crushing dead branches and mud echoes through the trees.
I scramble off Thayer’s chest. The sudden absence of his body heat is a violent, freezing shock, but the pure, unadulterated adrenaline flooding my system completely masks the cold.
The Commission.If they found the tunnel. If they tracked our footprints through the mud.
I don't panic. The fragile, terrified girl is completely dead. I am the only thing standing between the unconscious Don of the Thorne Syndicate and the men who want to mount his head on a spike.
I grab the oversized dark gray t-shirt from the floor and quickly pull it over my head, completely covering my sheer underwear. The cotton is freezing, but I ignore it. I crawl across the floorboards to the heavy tactical duffel bag.
I reach inside and pull out the matte-black 9mm Glock.
I check the safety, clicking it off with a sharp, metallicsnap. I grip the weapon with both hands, bringing it up, my elbows locking straight.
The heavy engines cut off entirely just outside the cabin.
The sound of heavy combat boots slamming into the mud surrounds the structure. There are at least half a dozen men. They are moving with lethal, tactical precision, entirely securing the perimeter.
"Clear the porch!" a harsh, commanding voice barks outside the door.
I back up until I am standing directly in front of Thayer’s unconscious body, completely shielding his bleeding form with my own legs. I raise the heavy barrel of the Glock, pointing the suppressed muzzle directly at the center of the rotting wooden door.
My breathing is completely silent. My hands, miraculously, do not shake.
Heavy boots step onto the porch. The rotting wood groans under the weight.
“If it is not me... you empty the clip into their chest. You shoot to kill.”
The heavy wooden door is violently kicked open, the rusted hinges tearing completely free from the frame.
The pale, gray light of dawn floods into the dark cabin, illuminating the massive, tactical silhouette stepping over the threshold. The man raises a heavy assault rifle, the tactical flashlight mounted on the barrel blinding me completely.
I don't flinch. I don't lower the gun.
"Drop the weapon!" I scream, my voice completely shredding the silence, a dark, commanding roar of absolute authority that I didn't even know I possessed. "Take one more step and I will put a bullet directly through your throat!"
The man freezes instantly. The blinding beam of the flashlight drops, hitting the floorboards instead of my eyes.
