That sameassholefrom the auction party. Broad, tall, scar down his cheek. The fucker always had that cocky smirk glued to his face, like a joker. Yeah, that suits him.
“So, boss, what are you waiting for? The big finale?” says Joker.
Another giant steps forward, taller than the rest, his face still hidden in the shadows. Elijah shifts nervously beside me, clutching my arm tightly. I feel his small body trembling, and I instinctively pull him closer.
Before I can react, Leonid is already in front of me.
So fucking fast.
Without a word, his hand slides to my waist.
Fuck.
The heat from his palm sends a shockwave through my body, his fingers grazing over my skin until they find the gun I’d hidden there. He doesn’t pull it out right away, though. No, he lets it linger, his eyes locked onto mine. Almost taunting.
I know that look. It’s the look of pure desire, like he wants to devour me whole.
My breath catches.
Why the hell am I thinking about this right now?
I mentally slap myself, trying to push away the feeling. This isn’t the time.
But then he grips the gun, sliding it out slowly, deliberately, as if he’s enjoying every second of it. I feel like I’m about to explode from the inside, and it’s not just from the anger boiling beneath the surface.
“Goddamn it!” I hiss. Before I can shove him away, Leonid grabs my arm, rough, pulling me closer. His breath brushes against my skin, too close. For a split second, I consider fighting—kicking, screaming—but I don’t get the chance.
Elijah’s already moving.
With a fierce growl, a sound so primal it shocks me, he charges Leonid. His tiny teeth sink into Leonid’s hand… hard.
Leonid jerks back slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it morphs into something darker. But instead of pushing Elijah away, he smiles—a cruel, twisted smile.
He moves so fast. In one smooth motion, Leonid grabs Elijah, lifting him into the air as if he weighs nothing.
“Elijah!” I scream, my voice cracking as I lunge forward, hands reaching out.
Elijah kicks and thrashes, his fists pounding against Leonid’s chest.
“Let me go! Pikachu’s gonna shock you!” he yells, his voice filled with fury. But Leonid holds him like he’s nothing more than a toy.
“Put him down, you bastard!” I scream, my throat raw with panic. I try to rip Elijah from Leonid’s hands, but I’m suddenly yanked back.
I spin around, only to findJoker—that smug asshole with the scar—standing behind me, his grip firm.
“Let him go!” I scream again, struggling against his hold. But then, before I can do anything else, a cloth is pressed over my mouth and nose.
Fuck.
The smell hits me immediately—chemical, suffocating.
Fuck, not again.
My vision blurs as I try to fight it, but my arms are heavy, my legs refusing to cooperate.
Everything spins. Too late.
The last thing I see is Elijah, still kicking, still fighting.
And then… darkness.
