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Chapter 37
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2021-06-14 00:27:56"There is no end to these zombies!"
While Giovani shoots down zombie after zombie, I watch my father observe us with a smile plastered to his face. Odd how he isn't helping his zombie companions fight and instead turns around to disappear into another room slowly.
"If you want to save your cute little lover, chat with me in the other room, Amelia." My father speaks from the door frame. A smile is glittering over his thin lips. "Come on, follow me."
Ryan falls onto his knees and glances up at me. He seems to be struggling not to turn into a zombie. "Don't follow him."
I bite my lower lip. Ryan looks sickly pale, and I know I don't have much time to make my decision. I should follow my father, right? The others have joined us and are shooting zombies to the left and right—I could easily track my father into the other room. It might be my only chance to prevent Ryan's death.
"Stay here," I order Ryan. "I will see what my father has to say."
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My father doesn't have to tell me twice. I saw Giovani snatch one of the vials and dash with a purpose to grab the other. Courtney is coughing, a true friend would probably check on her, but I have this feeling she will be alright—it's Ryan I need to worry about."Run to him, Amelia, before it's too late!"I shudder. My father is laughing like a maniac in the background until I hear the sound of a firing gun silencing him—Giovani must have shot him. I don't know. Neither do I have time to look behind me; finding Ryan is my top priority."Be okay, please be okay!" I chant to myself while moving.Stress makes my heart clench, worry makes my stomach lurch. I hope to God that I'm not too late.Running through the door, I enter the room with the shattered glass all over the floor, seeing Ryan sitting on the floor. His back is leaning against the wall, and his gaze immediately locks on me."Amelia!" He sounds weak, yet he smiles at me.
Last Updated : 2021-06-14Kidnapped By The Mafia Boss Chapter 39
One Year Later I replay the events that unfolded in my father's mansion every day, usually in the form of nightmares that haunt me at night. There are so many things that I could have done differently that day, ways of how I could have saved Ryan. It hurts remembering him. I can no longer visualize precisely how his face looked like, but I can remember how he made me feel, which usually ends up with me in tears. Most of the time, I cry alone inside my room and pretend that rush of hurt and pain never hit me like a wave when I walk out to the others, even if I know that everyone living inside this mansion is aware of my pain. "He is still alive. It's Ryan we are talking about," Zoya has told me plenty of times with her hand on my back. "Killing him is like trying to get to a cockroach—they always survive." I pray that she is right. For the past months, I've been searching for Ryan everywhere. I hunt for materials and food every day. I'm
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Gulping, I determinedly jump into my car even if it isn't standing in the same place I parked it. An old rock song starts playing from the CD inserted ages ago. It randomly plays now and then, and I celebrate inwardly when the car moves away from the forest clearing to It's My Life by Bon Jovi. It's a bumpy ride, and I sing along with the song while taking off my blouse. I'm practically shouting the lyrics, and trust me, I'm entirely tone-deaf, the person who makes babies cry. Who cares? No one is listening. "Do you always sing in the car?" A deep, familiar voice asks from behind my shoulders—startling me to the point it causes a knee-jerk reaction. I almost drive off the road, and the bobblehead of a dancing Stitch figure topple down on the floor, rolling to the back of the car. "Fuck!" I splutter, looking into the rearview mirror and getting the shock of my life—Ryan is sitting in the backseat. I freeze but somehow manage to
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Feeling a shiver run down my spine, I stare at Ryan—he is waiting for my reaction by the looks of it. Smirking behind the wheel with his charm bleeding into his features. "M-Mate?" I question. My father mentioned something about hybrids having mates, but I assumed their mates could only be hybrids themselves. Kind of like wolves only picking other wolves to mate with; then again, dogs exist for a reason. "Did I stutter?" Ryan asks. His cold tone got me crossing my arms across my chest until I notice the bastard is stifling laughter—he is fucking with me. "I'm just not sure what that means," I'm not lying. "Is it some magical bond between people?" "Hm, I guess you could call it that..." "Sounds like lots of crap and bullshit." I kick up my feet on the dashboard, not surprised at finding Ryan's new friends still chasing us. Ryan glances at my naked legs, and I grow self-conscious, reminded that I'm only wearing my bra, co
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Ryan I glance down at my mate through hooded eyes. Her newly discovered fear of me makes her appear smaller, and I hold my breath, not sure how to fix this building wall between us. I don't want her to be fearful of me—she is the last person on this planet that I would hurt. "Maybe I went too far..." I comment. She doesn't answer. Numbing pain is rumbling through me, and a raw scream of loneliness echoes through the walls of my mind. Without my memories, I don't understand where this darkness within me comes from. I think I used to be a psychopath in my past life, and my precious mate got to witness my corruption from the front row, see how I tore out the heart of my enemies with ease. There is no wonder she is afraid of me. Not knowing what else to do, I crouch down and take a seat under the blazing sun. Hybrids aren't sensitive to light, we share that feature with humans, but sweating isn't something I can control.
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Amelia After Ryan's flirtatious comment about eating my pussy, I'm clutching the wheel with whitening knuckles. My heart is like a violin playing on broken strings. Hurt and pain are consuming me, flooding my senses and drowning me from within. I loved Ryan, back when he was a human with a dark past, but this Ryan is different. Not only is he a hybrid, but he seems more radiant, happier somehow, and that scares me. What if I fall in love with this version of Ryan, who isn't burdened by his past? And then I wake up and find the darker Ryan in my bed, the one who barely smiled? No, that would be terrible. I should stay away from this version of Ryan, wait for his memories to return so that I don't fall in love with someone who might not exist tomorrow. Ryan is scanning the floor of my car, cracking up when the Stitch figure with the hula dress rolls down to his foot. He picks it up and smiles at me, unknowingly speeding up my heart. "Thi
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Ryan is stalking me like a shadow, following me as I round every corner of the tent village. Women and children are washing clothes, laughing and smiling, while the men play a dice game by a large table outside one of their restaurants. "Wow!" Ryan's eyes are darting from place to place. Then, finally, he has to step out of the way when a kid and his dog run past him. "This place is so bouncy and filled with life." "I know," I round another tent, smiling when I see the shaman's tent right ahead of us. "They are a bunch of nomads traveling in old circus carts. They mostly live on the road, but when they build up their village, it never ceases to amaze me." "It's beautiful." I glance over at Ryan's face. He tilts his head, smiles, and when I realize he is trying to flex himself, appear more extensive, or whatever, I just shake my head and keep walking. At that moment, I conclude that I like him more than I initially thought. He is funny. "This i
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Ryan It's funny how memories work. One second you're sitting there, trying to puzzle your life together, and in the next, you kiss the love of your life, and everything comes rushing back to you. I can remember everything, but the truth is that I've changed. I no longer seek revenge—Ola Svensson is dead. And after my own near-death experience, I realize that Amelia is the most important person in my life. So, honestly, I've turned a new leaf—my old family is dead, but Amelia is alive, and it's thanks to her that I'm still breathing. But the thing is, Amelia never got to know the real me, the person I was before darkness got a hold of my heart. She likes this Ryan more, so I don't plan to tell her that I remember anything. "The nomads claim their shaman can tell the future," Amelia says with a strange smile and a wrinkled nose—I don't think she believes in the shaman. "And do you believe them?" I ask, despite knowing the answer. Amelia
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Maeve Wyatt gently places me down on a bed. The innkeeper told us to get some rest before she attempts to heal my eyes. She used up most of her stamina, patching up my wounds and stopping the bleeding—it no longer feels like I'm leaking. "I shouldn't have brought you with me," Wyatt says as he crashes down behind me. "It's my fault that Bob and Garett died." His sheer weight got me tumbling into him, and his arm falls over me, holding me in place. It sounds like he is crying. It breaks my heart because I feel at ease with him, safe. He is like a giant teddy bear, but right now, he is vulnerable, and it tears me apart. I suck oxygen into my lungs, fully aware of my heartache. "Hey," I whisper at Wyatt, holding his shaking hand. "It's not your fault that they died—we didn't know Marcus had a bomb, and Bob made his own decision to save me." "I know, I'm just..." He is breathing into my neck with his curly locks brushing against me. It tickles. I
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WyattI approach the hybrid town through the forest with my skin bleeding and pants leaving my body. My exhaustion is rising, and my thoughts are scattered, running wild with worry as I clutch Maeve to my body. She was so close to dying. Shit. I will never let her go again, never look away!"Wyatt..." Maeve chuckles a little. Her head slumps to my shoulder, where she rests with her eyes closed. It's beyond me how she can appear so peaceful after what we have survived. "You can slow down. No one is chasing us, and we are both alive.""But you are-..." I stop talking, confused about the growing smile on Maeve's lips. Why does she seem so entertained? It's annoying not to know!"I'm what?" Her hand strokes over my chest, and she digs her cheek into my naked skin, inhaling my scent. My heart swells. I care about her so much, and she is injured because of me. "Well… I'm alive, Wyatt. I'm grateful for that, and if I'm blind, then so what? At least you ca
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MaeveMy breasts feel heavy when Wyatt carries me outside of the car. I'm wrapped around him but not able to circle his large torso entirely. He is too broad, too damn powerful, and the awareness makes my clit throb with hot, pulsating need.He is this ridiculously tall mountain of a man, while I'm the lucky woman allowed to touch him. My heart is beating double-time in my chest. I can't wait to fuck him, or get fucked by him, whichever is fine. I was drawn in hours ago, tricked to get turned on, when Wyatt let me touch his enormous pecs much more prominent than my boobs."I'm so hard for you," Wyatt speaks huskily; even his voice sounds like sexual frustration. His breath is warm, evaporating in the frozen air. "I wish you could touch me."Pure ecstasy hits me when I hear his deep, raw voice filled with desire. I can't confirm if his words are valid, but I'm dying to find out. I'm quivering with anticipation as Wyatt explores the surface of my clothes.
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WyattHandshakes are special because some people only touch your skin, while others affect your soul.Maeve is sitting next to me in the middle seat of the car. I'm glancing out through the window, pretending Maeve's hand on my thigh doesn't reach deeper than the surface of my jeans. The truth is that she is under my skin, and I can't remove her from there.My eyes briefly glance down at Maeve. She is sleeping peacefully, and with a heavy sigh, I brush her hair with my hand."You're a pain in the ass..." A soft smile touches my face, and with warmth flooding my senses, I hug her to my chest. "But I wouldn't want you ever to change."Maeve snores in response, and I chuckle.When I was younger, I was always smiling and trying to make people like me. I feared being lonely, which surprise-surprise made everyone think I was annoying. Little Wyatt was too horny for attention, and I was bullied for it.As a child, I was small and motherless.
