Deal Gone Wrong

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CHAPTER 16

~Arianna’s POV~

I spent the rest of the evening in a daze, replaying the events from the afternoon in my mind. 

My skin still prickled from Damon’s touch, his unsettling gaze, and the strange sensation of both fear and something else that had bloomed between us.

I hated how the memory lingered, how his words replayed long after he’d left. I sighed, but before I could make of the footsteps nearing my room, the door suddenly shot open, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Damon entered with his usual cold expression, his tone steely as his eyes bore into me. “Come with me. We are going out.”

“Enh...” He cut me off before I could find the words. "Get... you’re already dressed. We’re leaving now.”

“Where are we going?” I found my voice after what felt like an eternity. 

“You don’t need to know. All you are to do is follow me.”

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “I’m not going.” 

Anger flashed in his eyes as he crossed the distance to where I stood. “I don’t want that either.”

“Good. That makes two of us.”

“Ariana, do not test my patience further.”

My frown deepened. “Why must I follow you if you do not want my presence in the first place?” I asked, barely keeping the irritation out of my voice.

His lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “If that’s what it takes to keep an eye on you, then yes. I can’t have my money running off again.”

I gritted my teeth. “I won’t. I promise.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Your promises don’t hold much weight at this point.” His tone left no room for argument and his gaze was as cold and unyielding as ever.

With a sigh of resignation, I turned away. “I’ll be quick. I cannot go out looking like a…” 

“It looks good to me.” 

He gave me a once-over, his expression impassive but his eyes glinting with a hint of approval. Without a word, he turned on his heel and headed out of the room, gesturing for me to follow. 

I had little choice but to obey.

We made our way through the estate’s grand hallways, down the stairs, and outside, where his sleek black car waited.

The evening air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of rain. Damon opened the car door for me, his hand on my lower back as he guided me inside. I wanted to jerk away from his touch, but I knew it would be futile.

Once I was settled, he slid in beside me and shut the door. The car pulled away from the estate, and soon we were driving into the night, the lights of the city fading behind us as we ventured farther into the outskirts.

Through the silence, Damon’s hand reached over, his fingers interlocking with mine.

It was an oddly gentle gesture, but I knew better than to read too much into it. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as if he expected me to try to escape at any moment.

The thought had crossed my mind, but I’d be stupid thinking I culd escape him like this. Now wasn’t the right time.

I glanced out the window at the darkened landscape and stars faintly visible through the clouds. Freedom felt as far away as those stars, distant and unreachable.

After several minutes, the car slowed and turned onto a gravel road. I looked up, taking in our surroundings. Ahead of us was a dilapidated warehouse, its walls covered in graffiti and its windows shattered.

This was no ordinary destination. The place had an ominous air, and dread pooled in my stomach as Damon’s grip tightened on my hand.

“We’re here,” he announced. He gave me a hard look, his expression serious. “Stay close, and don’t do anything foolish.”

I nodded, my throat dry. There was something dangerous about this place—something that made my skin crawl. But there was also a strange thrill beneath the fear, a curiosity about whatever dark business Damon was here to conduct.

He stepped out first, then opened my door, extending a hand to help me out. I took it. 

We walked toward the warehouse, his hand still clasped around mine as if he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.

The interior of the warehouse was dimly lit, the weak beams of light barely illuminating the shadows that clung to the corners. 

I could make out a group of figures near the centre of the room with two briefcases, all of them turning as we approached. Damon’s expression was unreadable; his gaze fixed ahead.

They lowered their heads as soon as he came close.

One of the men stepped forward, his face partially obscured by a hood. He exchanged a nod with Damon before speaking in a low and rough voice. “You’re late.”

Damon’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Had a bit of a delay.”

“Your father expects smooth sailing,” he informed Damon before his eyes flicked to me, his gaze lingering a little too long for my comfort. 

“I brought… company.” That was all the explanation he gave.

I straightened my spine, refusing to let him see my unease. Damon’s grip on my hand tightened slightly, a silent warning to keep my composure.

The man nodded, seemingly satisfied, and gestured for us to follow. We made our way deeper into the warehouse with the other men tailing behind. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was lurking just out of sight, waiting to pounce.

At the far end of the room, there was a table set up with an array of boxes laid out—a briefcase, and what looked disturbingly like weapons. I swallowed, my pulse quickening as I realized this was no ordinary meeting.

What was I expecting from him?

The man gestured to the briefcases, his eyes on Damon. “The good’s here.”

Damon nodded and focused on the men in front. Over seven men with two of them standing out as their leader stood before us.

“Damon Dark,” one of the weird-looking men announced. “Took you long enough.”

“What matters is that I am here now.”

“Hmm.” He exchanged glances with the man by his side. “True. The payments,” he requested. 

“You show first. If we like what we see, then consider it yours. And if you’re serious about our arrangement, we’ll need a show of good faith.”

“Okay, fair enough, but we exchange at the same time. How about that?" the second man asked.

I noticed the silent glances between everyone and then Damon nodded. “Sure.” 

He lifted his hand, beckoning on the man we met earlier. “Jet.”

“No,” the man interjected. “Let her do it.” 

Jet whipped his head in Damon’s direction, silently protesting against it. But Damon’s jaw clenched, and he released my hand for me to step forward. 

Before I could move, one of the men walked up to me, handing me the briefcases of money. 

I gulped, my palm already turning sweaty. 

“Move.” Following Damon’s order, I did as I was told. When I got midway, I crossed paths with one of the men holding two briefcases in his hands. 

He sneered before continuing on his path. He placed the box first on the table before Damon before I did mine.

Almost immediately, my nose picked up a strange scent of plastic and I glanced around. I turned halfway to look at Damon as he unlocked the briefcase, peering into it. 

Something was not right. I felt it. I knew it.

I didn’t need someone telling me, nor did I understand why suddenly my eyesight became sharper. 

Ever since my near-death experience, I noticed my senses were becoming a bit sharper and brushed it off as overthinking. 

But now… The look in their eyes, and their hands by their sides, and the smell of what the... soot or… 

It was a…

Damon’s expression turned sour as he turned the briefcase around. “What’s…” 

My eyes landed on the artefact. Plastic. A trap. “Damon, it’s a…”

I had barely said the words when the man before Damon lifted his hands, holding two guns at him.

“What the…” My reaction had been slow because the next second I felt the cold nuzzle of what seemed like a gun pressed against the side of my head and a hand clamp around my neck. 

Fuck!