Chapter 18
Natalie barely registered the size or height of her attacker before a brute force yanked her halfway out of the car window.
As her legs scraped against the edge of the frame, she snapped to her senses, desperately hooking her foot around the door in a futile attempt to anchor herself.
Just as she opened her mouth to scream for help, the hand clutching her collar shot upward, clamping tightly around her neck.
A suffocating pressure crushed her throat. Natalie instinctively clawed at the iron grip, but her efforts we
were useless.
Her chest heaved as she fought for air, her movements as frantic and desperate as a fish flopping on dry land. The throbbing in her temples felt as though her blood vessels might burst at any moment.
When her legs finally slammed against the ground, Natalie lashed out with her hands, her nails scraping across the attacker’s course skin. She felt the sting of skin breaking under her assault, and for a fleeting moment, the grip on her neck loosened slightly.
She gasped, sucking in a shallow breath before screaming, “Help!”
But her cry was cut short. The crushing pressure returned with renewed force, and the raw scream she mustered was reduced to a guttural wheeze.
Her mind spiraled into panic, and terror gripped her as the attacker’s heated breath fanned across her face. When she felt a rough hand rugging at the collar of her shirt, a wave of pure horror coursed through her Her body convulsed uncontrollably, trembling like a leaf in a storm.
Her ears buzzed, the world around her dissolving into a hazy discord of muffled sounds. Then, suddenly, there was a muffled pop, distant yet sharp Something warm splattered across her face, and the unbearable grip on her throat released instantly.
Natalie collapsed to the ground, coughing violently, her lungs burning as she dragged in desperate gulps of air.
“Fuck” The low, venomous carse cut through her daze, and she glanced up to see a massive shadow looming over her attacker, now sprawled on the ground
Before she could fully process what was happening, Jonas’s dry, warm hand caught her arm. Her reflex was to struggle, but he hauled her up effortlessly and into his chest. His sterly gaze, however, remained fixed on the drunken man he had kicked to the ground.
Feeling Natalie’s struggles against him, Jonas frowned and his already frayed patience snapped. Without breaking his focus, he delivered another brutal kick to the man’s chest. The sickening thud echoed in the air as the attacker groaned, reduced to a pitiful state of wheezing breaths.
“Natalie.” Jonas’s voice, sharp and commanding, finally broke through her frantic state
She froze. Her wide, tear–filled eyes locked on him, her chest heaving from the remnants of her panic. Even with his face twisted in irritation and disdain, he seemed like a vine–a lifeline in a sea of terror.
Her lips trembled as she fought to hold back the tears threatening to spill. She wanted to cry, but a part of her feared that showing such weakness would only anger him.
The result was a heartbreaking expression–eyes brimming with unshed tears, her bottom lip quivering, her entire face etched with raw vulnerability.
Jonas’s frown deepened. His eyes flicked to the streak of crimson on her cheek. With a muttered curse, he grabbed the hem of his T–shirt and roughly wiped her face. His touch, though brusque, was surprisingly gentle as he cleaned away the blood.
Satisfied that her face was clear, be tousled her hair, his large hand warm and grounding against her scalp. “Move”
Still reeling from the ordeal. Natalie’s mind felt like it had short–circuited. She silently stumbled back a few paces, her body acting on pure instinct to follow his command. Yet she didn’t dare stray far. Right now, standing next to Jonas was the only place she felt remotely safe.
She didn’t dare move. She didn’t even dare cry.
Having lived her whole life in a peaceful country, Natalie had never truly felt the raw edge of danger, not until today.
Even when she’d been harassed by those kidnappers earlier, her hair yanked and shoulder shoved, it hadn’t hit her as anything more than a fleeting
scare
Even during those unexpected kisses from Jonas, she had been acutely aware he didn’t intend to go any further. His hands had stayed controlled, never wandering or ripping at her clothes. So while the moment had unsettled her, it hadn’t terrihed her.
But just now, when she had felt her throat crushed under that suffocating grip, when those filthy, clammy hands clawed at her collar, the realization
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Chapter 18
had struck her like a bolt of lightning–this country wasn’t safe. Not at all. Her mind screamed, “This is terrifying….
Nearby, Jonas ground his boot into the drunken man’s chest.
The man, now more sober from pain than alcohol, winced and adjusted his crumpled military uniform. With a slurred growl, he bellowed, “Do you even know who the fuck I am?“
Jonas, his gaze fixed on the bloodstains marring his shirt, let out a low, annoyed grunt. ‘Blood‘ Great Just what I needed His irritation spiked as his
eyes darted toward Natalie, standing a few paces away in a daze like a broken doll
Her wide, watery eyes had lost all their usual spark, staring blankly ahead as though her mind was miles away. The vivid bruise circling her slender neck stood out like a glaring accusation. fueling the storm brewing inside him.
**Clicking his tongue in frustration, Jonas frowned and his thoughts turned dark. Natalie gets under my skin, sure, but I’ve never gone this far. And
this piece of shit thought he could get away with it?
Atwisted smirk tugged at his lips. Without warning, his boot slammed down on the man’s right hand, his combat boot grinding mercilessly against bone.
The man’s agonized screams ripped through the checkpoint, raw and piercing, cutting through the tension like a knife..
Seeing their superior getting beaten up, the two soldiers nearby raised their rifles and began advancing
But before they could take more than a step, a machine gun rattled out a deafening burst, kicking up dirt at their feet. They yelped, dropping into a defensive crouch with their hands over their heads.
Amid the distant, intermittent screams of agony, the soldiers nervously glanced over their shoulders. To their shock, they saw Myla, the one who had casually tossed gold at them as a toll earlier, now holding a machine gun, its barrel aimed directly at them.
Her expression was deadpan. She slowly raised a single finger to her lips, her face unreadable as she mouthed, “Shh
The soldiers nodded furiously, terror etched into their features
Myla sighed, popping a piece of gum she’d swiped earlier into her mouth and chewing slowly.
Inside, though, her thoughts were a whirlwind of annoyance. Crap. Another one of the boss’s unhinged spectacles. Sure, I’ve gotten used to this shit, but Natalie? Poor girl’s probably scared out of her damn mind.‘
Back at the scene, Jonas crouched down, yanking a bloodied knife from the center of the man’s palm.
The ground beneath them was still damp from a recent rain, puddles scattered across the uneven surface. The crimson blood spilling from the man’s hand mingled with the water, creating dark, swirling rivulets. Each convulsion of the man’s body sent droplets flying, painting the surrounding area in splatters of red.
When Natalie saw the crimson pool creeping toward her feet, she snapped back to reality. Her instincts screamed at her to back away, but her body, locked in the grip of panic, betrayed her.
She stumbled back a few shaky steps before her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the ground with a muffled thud.
The shock of hitting the cold earth jolted her slightly, and she scrambled to her feet, hands fumbling in the dirt, before retreating further. Her back pressed against the cool metal of the car, and only then did she feel the faintest hint of safety.
The noise brought Jonas out of his daze.
A few paces away, Myla cast a quick glance at the scene and sighed inwardly. That’s enough. We don’t care about lives, sure, but we don’t kill without reason I don’t know why the boss blew his top, but the poor bastard’s already a bloody mess. It’s enough”
“Boss” M
Myla called out, her voice calm but pointed.
Jonas lowered his gaze to the barely recognizable heap of flesh and blood beneath him. The man’s mangled form was nasty, a stark reminder of his earlier loss of control. Jonas frowned, realizing how far he’d let himself go, though the reason for his outburst eluded him.
With a sharp inhale, he closed his eyes, reining in his scattered emotions. The dangerous flicker of exhilaration on his face disappeared, replaced by cold indifference.
Jonas tugged at the hem of his blood–soaked camouflage T–shirt with his right hand, peeling it off in one rough motion. The sticky sensation of drying blood clung to his skin, and he wiped at his hands with the fabric before tossing it carelessly to the ground.
Myla, ever practical, stepped forward with a towel in hand. She knew Jonas hated the metallic tang of blood lingering on his skin. He snatched the
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Chapter 181
towel wirlsout a word, wiping the streaks of red from his face and neck.
Next, Myla handed him a two–liter bottle of water. His left hand, still wrapped in bandages, had remained idle. He grabbed the bottle with his left hand, rinsing his right hand clean under the stream.
Then, without hesitation, he tilted the boule and let the cool water cascade over his head, soaking his hair and washing away the remnants of the chaos. As the liquid poured down, he absentmindedly pushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead.
Under the golden hues of the setting sun, he blinked and droplets of water clung to his lashes, catching the light like shards of molten gold.
They slid down the sharp angles of his bronzed skin, tracing the lines of his u taut muscles and vanishing below the waistband of his low–slung pants.
Jonas glanced over indifferently, his sapphire–blue eyes catching the fading sunlight. For a fleeting moment, they gleamed like shattered gemstones. Impossibly striking and wholly mesmerizing.
Even Myla, who had long since developed an immunity to male charm,
1, couldn’t help but think, ‘Damn. Those eyes, that face, that body—it’s unfair how good he looks. Too bad his temper’s impossible to deal with.
Look at him now, all cleaned up, as if he wasn’t the one who just threw a fit and nearly heat someone to death over a woman.
Now, he had stopped paying attention to Natalie, getting into the car and slamming the door with a deafening bang. It was clear he was the one who had nearly killed the guy, yet he was the one who seemed unhappy.
Myla, used to his unpredictable temperament, shifted her focus back to the man sprawled on the ground, covered in blood. She was about to handle the cleanup when the broken figure emitted a faint, trembling sound.
In Apairian, his voice cracked as he stammered, “P–please… spare me… Someone paid me to.. to deal with that woman.”
Myla’s interest was piqued instantly. “Oh Now this could get interesting!
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