Capítulo 44: Chapter 42
Paul squirmed in Beom's grip, his defiance melting away as panic took over. "I-I'll speak! I'll speak!" he blurted, his voice trembling, desperation lacing his words.
Beom's grip didn't loosen as he leaned in, his piercing gaze boring into Paul's. "I'm waiting," Beom said coldly, each word dripping with menace.
Paul swallowed hard, his breathing shallow. "It's not in Moscow," he stammered, his voice shaky. "It's in Vladivostok… I swear!"
Beom didn't respond immediately. He held Paul's gaze for a moment longer, searching for any sign of deceit. Satisfied, he released Paul's hair with a shove, letting the man slump forward in his chair. Paul coughed and groaned, his hands instinctively going to his sore ribs.
Vladivostok. Makes sense. It's remote, harder to reach, and easier to guard. But if he's lying, I'll be back, and he won't get off this easily.
Beom straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders to release the tension from the confrontation. He turned to Sasha, who had been leaning casually against the wall, watching the scene unfold with a faint smirk.
"Well, I guess that was needed," Beom muttered under his breath as he adjusted his jacket, brushing off the dust and blood like it was just another day in his life.
Sasha chuckled, pushing himself off the wall with a relaxed air. "You've got a mean right hook," he commented, clearly entertained by Beom's no-nonsense approach. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."
Beom shot him a sideways glance, his expression unamused. "Let's go," he said curtly, already moving toward the door. We don't have time to waste. If the Seraphim Code is in Vladivostok, we need to move fast before someone catches wind of this.
As the two of them stepped out into the cold night, the air felt heavy with the weight of what lay ahead. The faint scent of smoke lingered in the distance, a reminder of the chaos they were leaving behind. Beom didn't look back. There was no point in dwelling on what was done; his focus was already on what was to come.
Sasha fell into step beside him, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. "So, Vladivostok, huh?" Sasha said, breaking the silence. "That's a bit of a trek."
Beom didn't respond immediately. His mind was already strategizing, calculating their next move. This isn't over. If Paul gave us the location this easily, it means there's more to this than he's letting on. We'll need to be ready for anything.
"Yeah," Beom finally said, his voice clipped. "But we're not stopping until we get what we came for."
Sasha's grin widened, a flicker of excitement in his eyes. "Now that's the Beom I like to see. Let's get to it."
The following day, the cold Moscow morning greeted them as Beom and Sasha boarded the train bound for Vladivostok. The rhythmic sounds of the bustling station filled the air as travelers hurried to their respective platforms. Beom adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, his sharp eyes scanning the officer checking their tickets and passports. When it was their turn, Beom stepped forward confidently.
"Yes, we are together," he said briskly, his tone firm yet polite. The officer, a stoic man with a thick mustache, gave a curt nod before stamping their passports. The sound of the stamp echoed faintly, marking the beginning of a journey that stretched thousands of miles across Russia's sprawling expanse.
With their documentation in order, they were directed to their compartment. Beom led the way, his footsteps steady as they moved through the narrow corridor of the train. The air inside was warmer, carrying the faint scent of wood polish and the metallic tang of machinery. Their compartment was small but functional—two narrow beds on opposite sides of the room, a small wooden table set in the middle, and two compact stools tucked neatly beneath it. A large window dominated one wall, offering a view of the snowy expanse outside, the landscape stretching endlessly beneath a pale gray sky.
Beom set his bag down on the left bed, claiming it as his. The mattress was firm but manageable, and the blanket folded at the foot was simple yet inviting. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, running a hand through his dark hair. A train ride to Vladivostok... not exactly a quick trip. This is going to take days. I hope this lead isn't another wild goose chase. At least we'll have some time to think and plan.
After a moment, he leaned back, stretching out on the bed. His body sank slightly into the mattress, and he let out a deep, weary sigh. The tension of the past few days seemed to melt away as he closed his eyes, his breathing evening out. He hadn't realized just how exhausted he was until now. His muscles ached faintly, a reminder of the fight with Paul and the relentless pursuit of their goal.
As his mind wandered, Beom intended only to rest briefly, to clear his thoughts and strategize their next steps. Vladivostok. What will we find there? Is the Seraphim Code even real? And Sasha… Can I trust him when things get dangerous?
But soon, those thoughts began to blur. The soft rocking of the train, the distant hum of the engine, and the muted chatter of passengers outside their compartment worked together like a lullaby. Before he knew it, his body succumbed to the pull of sleep, his breathing growing deeper and steadier.
Sasha, who had been silently watching from the other side of the room, smirked as he noticed Beom drift off. He leaned back against his own bed, crossing his arms as he observed the faint tension still lingering in Beom's brow even in sleep. The sunlight streaming through the window painted faint patterns on the walls, casting a serene glow over the room.
The train began to move, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against the tracks blending seamlessly with the peaceful atmosphere inside the compartment. Beom remained unaware, lost in the rare respite that sleep offered him.
Beom's sleep was abruptly shattered by the muffled sounds of moaning. At first, it was faint—just a distant noise that might have been a dream. But then it grew louder, more insistent, pulling him out of his slumber. Mhmm... nggh... too deep... uahh... The sounds cut through the stillness of the room, each moan growing in intensity, like the rhythmic thudding of a drum in his ears.
He clenched his fists and buried his face deeper into the pillow, trying to block it out, but it was impossible. The noise seeped into his bones, scratching at his calm, irritating him in ways he couldn't shake off. What the hell is that? His heart skipped a beat. Are those moans? A woman's moans?
Beom's thoughts scrambled for an explanation, his mind racing. It couldn't be what he thought. But as the noises continued to escalate, his suspicions grew clearer. Wait... is Sasha really... His thoughts trailed off, his eyes snapping open as the realization hit him with a sudden jolt. Is he actually fucking someone right now?
Beom felt his entire body tense, his jaw clenching so hard that his teeth ground together in frustration. That asshole... He couldn't believe it. Of course it's him. The sound of the bed creaking in sync with the rhythmic movement only made it worse. There was no mistaking it now—the unmistakable sound of someone bouncing on top of Sasha, moving with a steady cadence.
His chest tightened, the irritation slowly bubbling over. No, I can't deal with this... Beom's mind was a tangled mess of anger and disbelief. He had half a mind to march over there and say something, but what? What the hell would I even say? He couldn't get the image of Sasha, completely unbothered, enjoying himself while Beom lay there, listening to it all. His insides twisted with frustration.
Desperate to shut the noise out, Beom tried to refocus his thoughts. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are... He whispered the words in his head, hoping to block out the intrusive sounds with some semblance of calm. But the distraction didn't work. The moans just kept coming. Uaahh... nggh... They were too loud, too raw, too... intimate. It was impossible to ignore.
How does he even do it? Beom's mind whirled. How can he sleep through this? How does he not feel ashamed? The thought only made him more pissed off. This asshole...
His patience finally broke. "Fuck this," Beom growled under his breath, his voice laced with irritation. His body jerked upright as if propelled by some unseen force, his sheets tangling around him. With an almost violent motion, he swung his legs off the bed, sitting up on the edge, his muscles taut with frustration. His eyes flickered to Sasha's bed, narrowing with disbelief as he stared at the source of his growing rage. How the hell does he sleep through this?
Beom crossed his arms tightly over his chest, watching the bed creak and shift as the noise continued. I swear, if he doesn't stop soon, I'm going to lose it. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration, confusion, and disgust. The idea of Sasha, so carelessly indulging in his desires while Beom was left to stew in this miserable situation, gnawed at him.
He shook his head, trying to push the image from his mind, but the moaning just wouldn't stop. I can't believe this... I'm actually sitting here, losing my mind over this shit. The more he tried to push the thoughts away, the more they swirled around in his head. Why the hell am I even letting this bother me?
Beom took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. But every moment of the escalating sounds felt like a challenge to his composure. This is insane...
Sasha glanced at Beom out of the corner of his eye, a smug chuckle escaping his lips. His amusement was evident as he shifted his focus back to the woman on top of him, his hands firmly grasping her waist. He guided her movements with a lazy confidence, his grip steady and possessive, as though he was reveling in the power he held over her.
Beom, sitting on the edge of his bed, watched the scene unfold with a mix of irritation and disbelief. He could hear every breathy moan, every exaggerated gasp the woman let out as she rode Sasha with abandon.
Status de energia semanal
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Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder