Chapter 133
-Maya's POV-
The metallic click of the gun cocking echoed in the cavernous room, sharp and final. My breath hitched, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. Miranda raised the weapon, aiming it directly at my heart. Her face, devoid of any warmth, held a cruel
amusement.
For a terrifying moment, I braced myself for the impact, my mind flashing with images of my children, their faces etched forever in my memory. Then, just as abruptly as she raised it, the gun was lowered. Confusion flooded my system.
"Ivan got to play with you?" Her voice was flat, devoid of any inflection. She took a slow step closer, the smirk on her face widening. "Why can't I have some fun before you die?"
The gun was tossed carelessly onto a nearby table, the clatter a jarring sound in the tense silence. She continued her approach, circling me like a predator stalking its prey.
My mind raced, desperately searching for an opening. Pleading wouldn't work, that much was clear. Anger, a simmering ember within me, flared briefly. "I don't understand," I spat, my voice hoarse. "What have I ever done to you?"
A snort escaped her lips. She stopped directly in front of me, her gaze raking over me with a disdain that was almost palpable. "What you've done?" She threw her head back and laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "I could never figure out what he saw in you. What they all saw in you. You're just so...plain."
The insult washed over me. It was irrelevant, petty even in the face of my impending doom. But somewhere deep within, a flicker of defiance sparked. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me crumble. Instead, I focused on the only thing that mattered: my children.
"Miranda, please," I pleaded, my voice trembling but firm. "I'll do anything just let my children go. They haven't done anything wrong."
My words fell on deaf ears. She rolled her eyes, a theatrical gesture that only served to heighten my desperation. "Don't you dare play the victim card with me, Amaya." Her voice took on a sharp edge. "And stop pretending you're some innocent bystander in all this.”
"If none of this had happened," she continued, her words dripping with venom, " If Ivan was truly a good guy that had fallen for you, was this how you would have continuously stabbed him in the back by sneaking around with Alex who is or was my fiancé?"
Her words stung, a kernel of truth lodged within the harsh accusations. Silence filled the room, a heavy weight pressing down on us. Her laughter echoed off the stone walls, "That's what I thought." My gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape, anything.
"You're so naive, Amaya," she continued, her voice laced with disdain. "You think you can reason with me? That I'll suddenly see the light and become some kind of hero? Don't be ridiculous" She leaned in closer, her breath hot on my cheek. "We both want you to suffer. He may have started the game, but he's only just getting warmed up."
She had her own agenda, her own reasons for wanting revenge. A sliver of hope pierced through the despair. If I could appeal to that, maybe there was
out.
my wrists. They were thick, impossible to break with my bare hands. But maybe if I could keep her talking long enough... My eyes darted to the metal chair I was strapped to. The cold, hard surface pressed against my back. An idea, a desperate gamble, sparked in my mind. It was risky, reckless even, but it was the only shot I had. If I could just rub the ropes against the rough edges, maybe, just
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Chapter 133
of that justifies what Ivan is doing. He's playing a twisted game, using all of us as
me with your cheap theatrics. Ivan's doing what needs to be done. Alex's father destroyed our life, took
Miranda?" I pressed, pushing my voice a little further. "Are you content to be his pawn in this game? To watch him destroy lives, innocent lives, just to satisfy some
a flicker of doubt crossing her features. I pushed on, gambling on the possibility that this woman,
touch of urgency. "Once Alex is gone, once his pack is broken, what happens then? Does Ivan stop? Does he suddenly find peace? Or does he move on to the next target, the next person who wronged him, real or perceived?
frantic rhythm against my ribs, mirroring the relentless rasp of the
laced with a dangerous edge. "Shut up!" she screamed, the
frantically rubbing
lunged forward, grabbing the gun from the table. A cruel smile twisted her lips."You aren't even worth the effort," she spat, aiming
down, every detail etched into my memory with horrifying clarity. The glint of metal in the dim light, the cold terror gripping
eternity. The first bullet left the chamber, a tiny puff of smoke marking its path, My body lurched
of black fur materialized between me and the bullet. My eyes widened in disbelief as the bullet pierced
screamed, rushing over to
contorted in a mask of rage, the gun now pointed at my head. "Don't move!" she yelled, her voice trembling
to her mate, roared to life. Strength I didn't know I possessed coursed through my veins, pushing aside the
clattered away, skidding across the cold stone floor. Adrenaline coursed through me, granting me a superhuman strength I had never experienced before. With a single, powerful punch, I landed a blow square on her jaw, sending her head snapping back and knocking her
before. But it was short-lived. My gaze darted to Alex, sprawled on the cold floor, a crimson stain blooming
chest. His breathing was shallow, raspy gasps that tore at my heart. A
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Chapter 133
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