Chapter 9 Caught In The Crossfire

• Amara sat on the edge of her couch, her hands clenched tightly in her lap as Damian paced the room. The air between them crackled with tension.
• “What exactly do you plan to do?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.
• Damian stopped pacing and fixed her with a cold, calculating stare. “I’ll handle the detective. You just need to follow my instructions and keep your story straight.”
• Amara’s pulse quickened. “What story? I don’t even know what’s happening! You keep throwing me into situations without giving me any information.”
• He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. For a brief moment, he looked almost human—frustrated, maybe even regretful. “The less you know, the safer you are.”
• “That’s not good enough,” she shot back, standing to meet his gaze. “I’m in this now, Damian. You dragged me into your world, so you owe me the truth.”
• His jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might lash out. Instead, he surprised her. “Fine. You want the truth? I’ll give you just enough to keep you alive.”
• Amara’s heart pounded as Damian gestured for her to sit. She hesitated, then complied, her curiosity outweighing her fear.
• “Last night wasn’t just a business meeting,” he began, his tone cold and clinical. “It was about securing control over a shipment that a rival group has been trying to intercept. The docks are a battleground, and the warehouse you were in is at the center of it.”
• Her stomach churned. “So, you’re involved in… what? Smuggling? Trafficking?”
• “Nothing so crude,” Damian replied, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “But the details don’t matter. What matters is that someone tipped off the police, and now they’re sniffing around. You were seen entering the warehouse with me, which makes you a person of interest.”
• Amara’s breath caught in her throat. “You mean they think I’m involved?”
• “They won’t, if you stick to the plan,” Damian said firmly. “When the detective calls again, you’ll say you were with me at a late meeting discussing logistics for a new project. You were reviewing contracts, nothing more. Do you understand?”
• She nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “And if they don’t believe me?”
• “They will,” Damian said, his voice steel. “Because I’ll make sure of it.”
• ---
• Later that evening, Amara sat in her apartment alone, replaying the conversation in her mind. Damian had left as abruptly as he’d arrived, leaving her with more questions than answers.
• Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was the detective again.
• Her hands trembled as she answered. “Hello?”
• “Miss Hayes,” Detective Calloway said, his tone polite but firm. “I’d like to schedule a time for you to come down to the station. We just need to clarify a few details about last night.”
• Amara swallowed hard. “Of course. When?”
• “Tomorrow morning, if that works for you. Say, 10 a.m.?”
• She hesitated, then forced herself to reply. “I’ll be there.”
• As soon as the call ended, she felt a wave of dread wash over her. Damian’s words echoed in her mind: Stick to the plan. Keep your story straight.
• But could she really trust him?
• ---
• The next morning, Amara dressed carefully, choosing a simple blouse and slacks that made her look professional and unassuming. She couldn’t afford to draw the wrong kind of attention.
• When she arrived at the station, Detective Calloway was waiting for her. He was a tall man with sharp features and an air of quiet authority.
• “Miss Hayes,” he said, extending a hand. “Thank you for coming in.”
• She shook his hand, forcing a polite smile. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”
• He led her to a small, windowless room and gestured for her to sit. The walls felt like they were closing in as he took a seat across from her, a folder in his hands.
• “I’ll get straight to the point,” he said, opening the folder. “We have footage of you entering a warehouse last night with Damian Volkov. That warehouse is linked to an ongoing investigation. Can you tell me why you were there?”
• Amara’s heart pounded, but she kept her expression neutral. “I was there for a meeting,” she said, her voice steady. “Mr. Volkov asked me to review some logistics for a new project. It was late, but he’s a busy man, and that’s the only time he could fit me into his schedule.”
• Calloway raised an eyebrow. “Logistics? At a warehouse?”
• She nodded. “It’s not unusual. Volkov Enterprises deals with a lot of shipments. He wanted me to see the operation firsthand.”
• The detective studied her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers for any sign of deception. “And did you notice anything… unusual while you were there?”
• “No,” she said quickly. “It was just a standard meeting.”
• Calloway leaned back in his chair, tapping a pen against the folder. “I see. And how long have you been working for Mr. Volkov?”
• “Just a few weeks,” she admitted. “But I’ve been learning quickly. He’s demanding, but he’s also fair.”
• The detective’s lips twitched, as if he found her answer amusing. “Fair. That’s not a word I’ve heard used to describe Damian Volkov before.”
• Amara bristled but kept her composure. “He’s been nothing but professional with me.”
• Calloway studied her for another moment, then closed the folder. “That’ll be all for now, Miss Hayes. But don’t leave town. We may have more questions.”
• ---
• As she left the station, Amara felt like she could finally breathe again. But the relief was short-lived. Damian’s car was waiting at the curb, and he stepped out as she approached.
• “How did it go?” he asked, his tone clipped.
• “They believed me,” she said, though the doubt lingered in her mind.
• “Good,” Damian replied, opening the car door for her. “But this isn’t over. Whoever tipped off the police is still out there. And if they come after you again, I won’t be so forgiving.”
• As the car pulled away, Amara realized just how deep she was in. There was no escaping Damian Volkov—or the dangerous world he had dragged her into.