Chapitre 32: (The Blue Eyed Man)
After a long drive that Mariana felt was an eternity, the policeman parked his car in front of a strange building. It resembled an old, vacant hospital, its dilapidated facade casting a chilling shadow in the fading light. Mariana hadn't given much thought to the parked car in front of the car she's in, her mind consumed by a whirlwind of anxieties. She could see the distant lights of other buildings along the road where the car had stopped. And the darkness made it impossible to discern the time.
"You wait here," the policeman commanded before exiting the car and slamming the door shut.
Mariana nodded in response, her head heavy with a forced composure. She watched as he entered the building, a looming structure about twenty meters away. Inside the car, she sighed, slumping into the seat and resting her head against the headrest. Her gaze remained fixed on the road, her thoughts consumed by Alton. Surely, he missed her. But a different pain lingered in her heart, a pain that refused not to be notice. She wasn't in love with him, and she knew, with a heart-wrenching certainty, that she couldn't force herself to be. Her heart already realized, that it was belonged to someone else, someone she believed could never love her back.
She felt it, the raw emotion in his touch, but she knew he had no intention of being with her, no intention of loving her at all. Even though, deep down inside him, she knew he already did fell inlove with her.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but what was the point? Her mind was a tangled mess of anxieties, and she didn't know what to worry about most. She closed her eyes, crossing her arms tightly across her chest, seeking solace in her own embrace. The world had played her for a fool, and she no longer desired to win. She simply wanted to surrender, to let go of the relentless struggle. Perhaps, she thought, the strongest people are those who know when to surrender, for clinging to a lost cause only leads to a slow, agonizing death of regret and misery. She screamed silently within, her own internal battle a symphony of pain and despair.
In the midst of her internal turmoil, the door of the facility creaked open. Mariana's confusion deepened as she saw two men emerge alongside the policeman. One was a tall, white man with a cap, the other a black man with dreadlocks. Mariana sat up straighter, her heart pounding as the policeman opened the car door on her side.
"Here she is," he announced, his voice devoid of any empathy.
Mariana's eyes widened in fear as the policeman's hand clamped onto her arm, pulling her out of the car.
"What are you doing?!" she screamed, her voice laced with panic. "Let go of me!"
Her bare feet touched the cold, damp grass, the chill of the night air sending shivers down her spine. The man dragged her towards the building, his grip on her arm tightening, causing a sharp pain to radiate through her limb. The other men followed close behind, their expressions grim and unyielding. As they entered the building, they forced her to sit in a chair, binding her wrists with a rope. She cried out for help, her heart racing like a trapped bird. The realization dawned upon her, a chilling truth that shattered her last shred of hope: the man she'd been with all this time wasn't a cop. She couldn't blame herself for trusting him, for she had been desperate, lost in a sea of uncertainty, but the truth was a bitter pill to swallow.
"You shut up or I'll force you to close your fucking mouth," the black man snarled, his voice dripping with irritation.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked, struggling to catch her breath, her voice a mere whisper. Despite the cold night air, beads of sweat formed on her forehead, cold as ice.
The men ignored her question, their silence a deafening confirmation of her fears.
"Nice job, Green," the tall man said, clapping the shoulder of the man who had pretended to be a cop. "You don't know how simple it is to get her. I never had to touch her. She willingly came."
He burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the empty room, a cruel mockery of her despair. The other men grinned, their eyes gleaming with a sinister satisfaction.
Mariana wanted to interrupt them, to scream at them, to fight back, but she chose to remain silent. She bowed her head, tears streaming down her face, her body wracked with sobs. Her face was a mask of pain, her emotions a raging storm within. Her tears flowed freely, a constant reminder of her helplessness. If this was the end of her life, she thought, she would accept it.
"We need to wait for Donovan to arrive. He's on his way," the black guy stated, his voice flat and emotionless.
They stood there, their presence a suffocating weight, their words a grim foreshadowing of her fate. After five minutes of their chilling conversation, the sound of a car engine revving outside pierced the silence.
Mariana felt a fresh wave of fear wash over her, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She tried to free her wrists from the rope, but it was tied too tightly.
"Help!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation.
The men ignored her pleas, their eyes focused on the door. They opened it, revealing a group of men, at least six in number. Mariana couldn't count them accurately, her attention fixated on the man with piercing blue eyes, the man Green, the fake cop, had called "boss."
This man was undeniably handsome with his blonde hair,in his formal appeal that made him appear more like a successful attorney than a criminal mastermind. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, his posture radiating an air of confidence that sent shivers down Mariana's spine.
She tried to calm herself, but the way he looked at her, the way his blue eyes seemed to pierce through her soul, filled her with a primal fear. It was different, this fear. It was deeper, more profound, a visceral understanding that this man held no good intentions.
"Who are you..." she asked hesitantly, her voice barely a whisper.
He smiled, a chillingly predatory smile that sent a wave of nausea through her. He knelt down, his gaze unwavering as he reached out and gently grasped her chin.
"I am Donovan Clarkson," he said, his voice a low, smooth rumble. "And unfortunately, I can say, I am soon to be your husband."
Mariana felt as if she had been struck by lightning. The words hung in the air, heavy with a dark, sinister meaning. Other women might find such a declaration romantic, but not her. For her, it was a chilling announcement of her impending doom. His eyes held no warmth, no admiration, only a cold, calculating malice that sent a tremor of fear through her very being.
This blue eyed man was scary,truly she can say she's facing a dangerous battle again.
She's in danger, and she don't know how to save herself.
***
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone