“Beth.” Relief washed over the boy’s eyes. He tried to push past the officers to me, but they held him back gently, one whispering something to his ear.
Then Zaghan entered, calm and controlled. It almost appeared as though he orchestrated this whole meeting, and he wasn’t blindsided at all.
His presence shifted the balance of the atmosphere as he adjusted his cuff link, his expression a mask of indifference. But his current emotion was in his eyes. God, his eyes. They burned with suppressed fury.
“Finally, something exciting is happening.” My jaw tightened and I threw a glare at Ophelia who made the comment.
“Mr. Raskov.” One of the officers stepped forward, his tone even but wary. “As we were trying to say outside. We received a report that this young woman was taken against her will. And we have a reason to believe she’s a victim of abduction.”
“Oh, this is good.”
I turned and glared at Ophelia again. Could she not read the room? My best friend just went ahead and signed his death certificate and the bitch was here throwing a solo party?
I looked back at Zaghan, catching a feathering muscle in his jaw. He wasn’t looking at me at all. Not yet. Instead, he let out a slow, measured breath, his hands in his pocket.
“As I said, detective.” Zaghan’s voice was a blade honed to perfection. “you have been misinformed. This woman right here is my wife. Now, why in the world would I abduct my own wife?”
The three officers’ gaze flickered to me, and I wanted to shrink and disappear. “Is that true?”
A tense silence.
Zaghan finally lifted his eyes to me, his gaze sharp, heavy and commanding. A silent warning.
A plea?
I swallowed hard, my eyes momentarily straying to Kenzo, and Kenzo was shaking his head, a silent plea to tell the truth.
Why were these people doing this to me?
“Yes,” I said, my voice wavering. “We’re um, we’re married.”
The officers exchanged glances, confused.
“Beth, come on,” Kenzo said sharply, his voice raw. “Tell them the truth.”
The detective’s eyes returned to me. “Did you consent to the marriage?” one of them asked.
The room seemed to shrink, pressing in on me. My pulse pounded in my ears. I could feel Zaghan beside me, his presence electric as he waited for my next words.
Then I took in a deep breath, my voice barely above a whisper. “No. He-he forced me.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
One of the detectives stepped forward. “Then you’ll be coming with us for now.”
Zaghan’s shoulders tensed, almost imperceptible, but I caught it.
One of the detectives turned to face Zaghan, his tone professional, shoulders squared. “You have no legal grounds to keep her, Mr. Raskov,” he asserted. “So she’s leaving with us. You can join us later to prove your case in front of a judge.”
Zaghan didn’t move, didn’t even utter a single word. He just watched, exuding an unshakable power that made even armed men hesitate.
I staggered backward, my knees weakening as one of the officers came to grab me by the arm, leading me out.
Zaghan didn’t stop them. And when some of his soldiers charged forward with their guns, he raised a hand in protest against it.
He didn’t step beyond the door. He just stood there, merely watching, cold, controlled, and dangerous.
The further the men took me away, the more it dawned on me that Zaghan didn’t have any intention of stopping us…stopping me.
