Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 40

Accidentally Yours

Chapter 40

LOLA- 7:59PM

The lights went out so fast she thought the building had been hit.

No flicker. No warning. Just the world dropping into pitch.

Then the click of the front lock.

The creak of the back door.

And silence.

Not quiet–intentional silence.

Predatory.

Her heart slammed.

‘I will not go easy motherfuckers.

She grabbed the nearest thing she could–a weighted metal rinse cup–and backed toward her station, slightly crouched, pulse pounding.

Then came the smoke.

Not fog machine cute.

Not sexy dramatic entrance.

Thick. Rolling. Chemical.

Burning the back of her throat and crawling up her nose.

She coughed, covered her mouth, eyes stinging-

No no no no-

A dark figure burst through the haze.

ེ་ཇ་༢་ༀ་ê

She didn’t think–just reacted.

The cup cracked across the guy’s head with a solid thunk.

He grunted. Stumbled but didn’t fall.

Another arm–different grip, different height–snatched for her elbow. She twisted, kicked, sunk her teeth into exposed skin.

Keep moving. Get low. Don’t get cornered.

Everything Baba and the trainers drilled into her came roaring back.

Her elbow connected with someone’s gut–hard. He stumbled, cursing in Italian.

Still, they kept coming.

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Chapter 40

Three now.

Big. Fast. Coordinated.

Too coordinated.

This wasn’t random.

Lola spun, dropped low–ducked a swinging arm–but they were faster.

Someone tackled her.

Hands like vices grabbed her wrists.

She was slammed into the wall, hard enough to rattle the artwork off the shelves.

A scream tore from her throat.

Not Enzo, Not Dom. Not Gino. Not the boys.

These men were strangers.

She screamed again, lungs raw.

Fought like hell.

But the hands didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t loosen.

Rough. Cold.

Trained.

Then-

Blackness.

་ ་ ་ ཐ ་ ་ ་ ག

A cloth bag yanked over her head.

Wrists zip–tied. Tight. Plastic biting into her skin.

Boots on the floor.

A voice hissed something low and fast in Italian. Another responded.

Too calm.

Her own breath sounded like a dying engine in the dark.

She thrashed–screamed again–until her shoulder hit steel.

Car. Fuck. They’re taking me somewhere.

The SUV door slammed shut.

Chapter 40

Sounded like a coffin.

The world was dark.

Hot.

Confined.

Too still.

The air smelled like sweat and rubber and something bitter.

Are the boys okay?

What if this wasn’t about me? What if they got hurt trying to stop it?

This is serious.

Her pulse thudded like war drums in her throat.

And for the first time in years-

Lola was scared.

She couldn’t see.

Had stopped screaming to try and hear any conversation.

Couldn’t breathe right.

Couldn’t stop the wild rhythm of her heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Her wrists burned from the zip ties.

Her shoulder ached from the hit against the wall.

And the black hood over her face was hot as hell.

But none of that scared her half as much as the silence.

These weren’t amateurs.

Not the guys. Not Enzo.

They didn’t speak to her. Didn’t make jokes. Didn’t smell like cologne or aftershave or burnt coffee.

Just gunpowder, smoke, and leather.

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…

The guys were watching me, Dom and Marco were right outside. They would’ve stopped it.

Unless… they got taken too?

Chapter 40

Her pulse spiked again.

No. No, they’re fine. This is a mistake. Or-

Or it’s not a mistake at all.

Her breath hitched. Panic tried to crawl up her throat again.

She counted backwards from ten.

Ten… breathe.

Nine… stay sharp.

Eight… think.

This wasn’t about the club from last night, was it?

She thought about the rival’s men. The way they looked at her. The way Enzo had looked after.

No. He wouldn’t let anyone touch her.

But… where was he?

Was this some kind of retaliation?

Or worse-

Was this about her?

She didn’t know how long the ride lasted.

Her thoughts had kept her way to busy to keep track.

Then the car slowed.

A chill hit her skin–the shift from outside Vegas heat to indoor AC–and she knew the air.

Knew that smell.

She froze.

Waited.

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Then-

The hood came off.

She blinked hard.

Enzo stood in front of her, smirking like the goddamn devil in tailored black.

Behind him: Gino, Dom, Marco, Nico–a few others.

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Then-

“You motherfu-”

Gino popped a confetti cannon in the background.

“Welcome home, trouble! How was work?”

Lola blinked against the overhead lights, wrists still zip tied, chest heaving, fury building like a Molotov cocktail.

“Oh. My. GOD.”

Gino looked like he regretted being born.

“Lola-”

“Don’t ‘Lola‘ me, you glitter–brained gas station raccoon!” she snapped, twisting in the ties. “You helped? You all helped?!”

Nico held up both hands. “Technically, I was on lookout-”

“You threw me in a van!”

“It was an SUV!” Dom called from the hallway.

Marco passed behind her with a drink, giving her a thumbs up. “You got moves, though. Took two of us down before the bag went on. Proud of you.”

“I will tattoo a dick on your forehead while you sleep, Marco!”

“No thank you,” he said, raising his glass.

“Someone cut these ties before I chew through my own wrists!”

“Goodnight, trouble!” Gino called over his shoulder, already retreating.

Enzo just stood there. Silent. Watching.

Once the front door clicked shut, Lola rounded on him like a storm.

“You-! You absolute-! You kidnapped me! You smoke–bombed me! You threw me in a car like a sack of potatoes and scared the SHIT out of me!

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You better start writing your will because I swear to every god that has ever existed, I’m going to-

Enzo raised one brow. Just one.

Then calmly said:

“Run, little kitten.

As fast as you can.”

She froze.

Her brain short–circuited for one full second.

Then she bolted.

Barefoot. Screaming. Laughing. Still zip tied.

And Enzo–grinning like a wolf–started to chase.

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