"Voss Vault of the United Kingdom."
It wasn't just a company owned by the wealthiest loan shark. It was the ruler of the entire black market of the UK. From human trafficking to drug dealings, from suppressing protests to assassinating cabinet ministers, V&V's name was whispered everywhere.
They were the true emperors of the underworld, overflowing with black money and armed with unimaginable power. Offending them was nothing short of inviting the most painful death.
I couldn't believe Oliver had dared to borrow money from them.
'When did he fall so low as to make deals with criminals?'
Panic rioted inside me.
I sat there like a statue, gripping the contract papers so tightly that my knuckles turned white. The golden hue of the morning sun wrapped everything in its warm embrace, but my heart burned with restless anger and disappointment.
What did I do wrong? Why must I suffer always, everywhere? Is there truly no one who can love me, care for me?
"Oliver… Did he really stop caring? No! He loves me. There must be some misunderstanding.'
My thoughts were in a tumult until the young man's voice broke the suffocating silence, "What happened? Are you scared of us now?"
I took a deep breath and looked out the window, deliberately avoiding his gaze.
He seemed to dislike my silence.
After a pause, he took the papers from my hands and said calmly, "Don't worry. We aren't going to kill you right now. We'll give Mr. Richard three months to pay us back."
His reassuring tone sounded oddly funny in that miserable moment. Though his tall, muscular silhouette exuded a dominating aura and his fierce eyes could scorch through steel, I noticed a flicker of childishness in his voice.
I smiled bitterly. "Only three months? That's not very reassuring."
He chuckled light-heartedly. "What about leaving your husband and running away with me? Then you won't have to worry about the money anymore."
His playful wink melted my gloominess slightly. My lips curved into a surprised smile as I shook my head.
"Am I not a little too old for that, kiddo?"
"Kiddo?"
His ocean-blue eyes locked on me for a few seconds before he burst into laughter. "You're really so naïve, Senior. Tsk! Tsk! You just missed a golden chance at survival. I wish-"
'Screeeech!'
He was cut off by the shrill honking of cars. Three vehicles surrounded us, two speeding up to race alongside. We both turned to see groups of men dressed in white inside those cars, each one pointing a gun at us, shouting threats and curses.
"Son of a—!"
"Bastard!"
The young man cursed and slammed his foot on the accelerator, noticing the cars. "Damn it! How did these dogs find me?" He grabbed his phone and dialed someone in haste.
–"Where the hell are you? Didn't I tell you to distract Derek's dogs?"
–"No! Fools! They're chasing me."
–"Stop talking and send backup!"
–"Yes, I'm half an hour from Gran's farmhouse. Hurry up!"
–"Cut your crap and come fast! I've got someone important with me. I can't take any risks."
He ended the call annoyedly and his tensed eyes were locked on the road ahead. The Ferrari roared, flying toward the countryside away from Liverpool. I caught a glimpse of a signboard: 6 km to Wallasey Beach.
Bullets were raining from behind. My heart pounded as the rear window shattered.
"Don't worry. You'll be safe with me."
His voice, though calm, carried a strange warmth while talking to me.
I asked in a puzzled tone, "Who is Derek? Why did you kill him or his boss?"
He kept driving, dodging gunfire with sharp precision. "To save you," he said casually. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten that old pervert. He's Derek's father, the late CEO of White Lion."
"Derek White of White Lion?"
I looked back in horror. "Shit! Shit! We're not going to survive this. No way we can stand against the White Lion."
I knew Derek White and his father all too well. They were our investors, the second-richest family in the UK, the biggest arms and automobile dealers in the country.
"Derek is a heartless bastard," I muttered, recalling my last encounter with him.
Suddenly, bullets struck our tires. The car screeched, swerved violently, and lost control. The car stopped, growling for a few seconds.
"Fuck!"
He cursed, snatching his pistol. Turning to me, he asked, "Can you run, or should I carry you?"
"Do we need to run?"
I turned to see the white-clad men stepping out with guns, rods, and daggers. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I said quickly, "I can definitely run."
I jumped out barefoot without thinking and he followed me, glancing back protectively. Gunshots echoed around us as we were running as fast as we could. He surprisingly didn't try to cross me. He was still behind me, covering me with his silhouette. His breathy, velvety voice rose through the chaos which was steady, commanding.
"Run! Don't look back. Just keep running."
Each time I glanced behind, my heart lurched. He was fighting them while shooting, blocking, and protecting me. The pursuers were almost upon us when four black Mercedes roared in from the opposite side, bullets were flying around us.
Before I could process anything, he grabbed my wrist gently and whispered, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," I gasped, then quickly added, "Are you?"
He nodded with a faint smirk. "Of course. This is nothing for me." Guiding me through the storm of gunfire, he said, "Just a little more. We're almost there."
Within minutes, I found myself inside a black Mercedes G-Wagon, guarded by two men in black uniforms. The young man slid in beside me and ordered sharply, "Drive to the farmhouse. Don't attack them now."
One of the guards hesitated. "Young Master, they dared to attack you. If we return without revenge-"
For the first time, a cold fire blazed in his blue eyes. His voice was hoarse but deadly calm.
"I'll come back and send them to their coffins myself. But not now, Alex."
The fury in his tone silenced everyone.
My heart was still pounding wildly. I stared out the window at the bleeding bodies, the smoke, the chaos was fading behind us. My hands trembled uncontrollably.
"I- I promise I won't run away," I whispered, my throat dry. "I'll try my best to repay everything. Just let me go home."
He handed me a bottle of cold water, his tone became soft again, oddly gentle.
"Sorry," he said, looking straight ahead. "You're not allowed to leave my sight from now on."