Throw
The mafia boss stood still, watching Lena with a calculating gaze. His lips pressed together in a thin line, frustration emanating from his every movement. He had no time for mistakes, no tolerance for things that didn’t go according to plan.
Ivan Volk
Throw her in the sea," he ordered coldly, his voice devoid of any empathy.
Lena
Lena’s eyes widened in disbelief. "What? No—please, don’t!" She struggled against the men who had been holding her, but it was no use.
The drive was short, the sound of the engine roaring in her ears, drowning out her frantic thoughts. Before she knew it, the van came to a halt, and the door was swung open. They dragged her out of the vehicle, ignoring her pleas. The wind howled around her, the scent of saltwater filling the air.
They reached the edge of the dock, the dark waters of the sea stretching out before her like an abyss. The mafia men exchanged a few hushed words, and without a second thought, they shoved Lena toward the edge.
Lena
*No!" she screamed, but the words were lost in the rush of the wind. Her legs buckled under her as she was pushed over the side, plunging into the cold, unforgiving water below.
The chill of the sea hit her like a thousand needles, her body instantly seizing up as the cold gripped her. She fought to stay afloat, gasping for air, but the weight of her clothes pulled her down. Panic clawed at her chest as she struggled to keep her head above water. She could feel her strength draining, the cold creeping through her bones.
Her vision blurred, and for a moment, the world around her seemed to fade. She was sinking, her limbs heavy and uncooperative, the icy water closing in on her. But then, just as she thought it was over, she felt a tug. A strong hand gripped her arm, pulling her toward the surface.
Lena’s head broke through the water, and she gasped, desperate for air. Her vision cleared just enough to see a man, a fisherman, struggling to pull her from the water. His face was weathered, his hands rough but steady as he hauled her onto a small boat.
fisherman
"Hold on, miss," he grunted, his voice strained as he worked to keep both of them from capsizing.
Lena’s body felt like lead, every inch of her aching from the cold, but she clung to him, too weak to speak, too terrified to do anything but hold on. The fisherman didn’t ask questions, simply rowed with determination, his focus solely on getting her to safety.
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