Chapter Text
Mikhail POV:
I woke to chaos, a clamor that cut through the quiet of the night. Groaning, I rolled over, pulling the covers over my head in protest. Who in their right mind dared disturb my precious beauty sleep? My eyes burned from exhaustion, but the incessant noise—shouts, laughter, and what sounded suspiciously like Jeremy’s low, measured voice—tugged at my curiosity.
Throwing the blanket aside, I sat up, stretching until my joints popped. "Who does this in the middle of the night?" I muttered to no one in particular. My curiosity won out over my irritation. Shrugging on a hoodie and sliding my feet into a pair of sneakers, I headed outside.
The cool night air hit me first, crisp and biting. The commotion was louder now. As I rounded the corner of the mansion, I froze. Standing under the floodlights were Maksim, practically doubled over with laughter; Jeremy, his expression thoughtful and unbothered; Nikolai, looking on with amusement; and Killian—oh, poor, furious Killian.
Killian looked like he was seconds away from committing murder. His fists were clenched so tightly I thought he might crush his own knuckles, and his jaw was set like a steel trap. I followed their line of sight, my breath hitching at the sight before me.
Killian’s red Aston Martin—his pride and joy—was engulfed in flames. The sleek, luxurious lines of the car were obscured by angry tongues of fire, licking hungrily at the metal. The crackle of burning rubber filled the air, the acrid stench sharp enough to sting my eyes.
"Ну, кто-то только что подписал себе смертный приговор (Well, someone just signed their death sentence)," I muttered, unable to tear my gaze away from the inferno.
Killian turned his glare toward the guards, who were sprinting after a figure darting through the shadows at the edge of the estate. A masked intruder.
" Damn it, catch him!" Killian barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Without thinking, I broke into a run, adrenaline surging through my veins. The masked figure was fast, but I was faster. My sneakers hit the ground in rapid rhythm as I chased the intruder, the scent of burnt rubber and smoke still lingering in the air behind me.
The figure moved with practiced agility, ducking between trees and leaping over obstacles, but I stayed on his tail. My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, refusing to let him slip away.
As I closed the gap, I caught a glimpse of his face—just a fragment as he glanced back to check the distance. My breath hitched.
Eyes. The clearest blue I’d ever seen, like the unbroken expanse of a summer sky and the fathomless depths of the ocean combined. Fascinating, almost hypnotic. For a split second, I faltered.
"Чёрт! (Damn it!)" I hissed under my breath, the momentary distraction costing me precious seconds.
The masked figure took advantage of my hesitation, slipping through a gap in the compound’s perimeter fence and vanishing into the woods. I stopped at the edge, breathing heavily as the guards barreled past me, their shouts punctuated by the sharp crack of gunfire.
The sound echoed through the trees, unsettling in the stillness of the night. I stayed rooted to the spot, staring into the shadows where the figure had disappeared.
Those eyes. They lingered in my mind like a haunting refrain, vivid and impossible to forget. I felt a strange pull, a curiosity I couldn’t shake. Who was this person?
Shaking my head, I turned back toward the compound. Killian would no doubt be ready to skin someone alive by now, and if I knew him, he wouldn’t rest until the culprit was caught.