Furious, he smacked me across the face, and the impact turned my head to the side.
My fear transformed into anger, and I glared at him, my chest heaving with slow, measured breaths. “Did that make you feel powerful?” I asked, refusing to let him break my spirit.
He fumed in silence, his broad shoulders rising and falling.
“Do whatever you want with me,” I said, my voice dripping with venom. “But know this: There’s nowhere on earth you can hide that Roman won’t find you. And when he does…” I paused, a smile on my face, basking in the thought of the horrible things he’d do to this man, “…you will beg for death.”
His scowl deepened, threatened by my resilience. “Start recording!” he barked, fingers undoing the button of his pants.
I didn’t say another, didn’t even struggle with the ropes that held me bound. I just sat there, staring at him.
In a heartbeat, the door burst open, and because the light was directly on my face, I couldn’t see what was happening in the shadows. However, the sound of rapid gunshots was loud and unmistakable.
My body stiffened, and I closed my eyes in fear, trembling at the chaos around me. Beneath the gunshots were screams of men, the sound of cracking bones, and heavy punches.
In the midst of all that violence, I heard his voice: “You son of bitch! How dare you touch my wife?!”
It was Roman. He’d come for me.
My heart was filled with gladness as I sat in the middle of the chaos, trembling, hoping a stray bullet didn’t hit me.
A few seconds later, the gunfire ceased, and from the shadows, a figure emerged. The harsh light behind him concealed his face, recreating the scene from the first time I tried to escape the Tarasov mansion.
As he drew closer to me, his face became clearer. As expected, it was him—my husband, my knight in shining armor.
He bent over before me, his bloodied hands on my cheeks. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” His voice was low but filled with genuine concern and a hint of fear.
“I’m fine now,” I answered, holding back the tears of joy that welled in my eyes.
He kissed me on the head, then straightened and revealed his blade. Roman walked over to my back and cut through the rope that kept me captive.
I hopped to my feet and embraced him tightly, my arms slung around his neck. He held me close, stroking my hair back, his possessive hand around my waist.
“Thank you,” I whispered in his ear, my heartbeat steadying in my chest.
“You’re my wife,” he said. “It’s my duty to protect you.”
I closed my eyes and drew a deep breath, reveling in this moment. The second I reopened them, I saw him aiming his gun at us from the shadows—the man in a white suit.
“Roman, watch out!” I yelled, my eyes wide with fear.
Instinctively, Roman pushed me aside seconds before the shot rang out. As he fell to the ground, he hurled his knife at his shooter. The throw was practiced and precise. The knife sliced through the air, spinning violently until it buried itself halfway into its target’s chest.
The man dropped. Dead.
As soon as Roman’s body hit the ground, I ran over there, kneeling beside him. “No, no, no, no…!” The words tumbled out of my mouth in a nervous rush.
He’d been shot in the stomach and was already bleeding out. His blood was warm against my hands as I tried to apply pressure to his wound.
“Stay with me, Roman,” I whispered, sniffling as tears streamed down my cheeks.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” he answered, his voice weak.
“Help!” I raised my head, shifting my gaze across his men’s faces.
Sergei showed up and asked me to step aside, saying that he’d take it from here. I rose to my feet, glancing down at the blood that stained my hands as they carried him away.
I never thought a day would come when I would shed tears because I was afraid of losing the same man I once hated. My whole body trembled as I prayed that he would survive this. And in that moment, I realized the depth of what bound us together.
