My hands curled into fists, claws pressing painfully against my skin. Every muscle in my body locked tight as instinct demanded I charge outside and end this. But I stayed where I was. In the shadows. Waiting.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Chet's voice exploded through the sound system with theatrical brilliance. "We have a surprise guest tonight!" The audience leaned forward eagerly. "Derek Sterling has come to…" Chet paused for effect. "…win back the woman he loves!" The crowd erupted into cheers. Of course they did. They believed the performance. They did not see the predator walking toward the stage. The liar. The coward who had dared threaten a female.
Derek reached the end of the carpet and climbed the stairs with slow, deliberate confidence. Then his eyes lifted—searching, scanning the stage—until they found Tori.
She stood at the center of the stage. Still. Composed. Her hands clasped loosely in front of her as if this were nothing more than another carefully scripted moment for the cameras. The stage lights caught in her hair, casting soft gold across her shoulders. Her gown was elegant, the shimmering emerald fabric hugging every perfect curve. To the audience she looked calm. To me, she looked like a warrior preparing for battle.
My entire body locked as Derek Sterling approached her. "Tori." His voice carried easily across the silent theater, smooth and self-satisfied. "You look beautiful." The words scraped across my nerves like broken glass.
"Derek." Her reply was calm, curious, hesitant. Perfect fucking acting.
My hands curled into fists behind the curtain. Every instinct demanded that I cross the stage, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her away from this circus. Lock the door behind us. Remind her with my mouth and hands and body exactly who she belonged to. Instead, I remained in the shadows while she smiled at another male.
"What are you doing here?" she asked lightly. Derek walked toward her with the confidence of a man convinced the world already belonged to him. "What I should have done weeks ago." Then he dropped to one knee in front of her.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience. The gesture was theatrical, calculated for maximum effect. Cameras zoomed closer. Microphones dipped lower. "I'm here to fight for you," he declared.
My teeth ground together hard enough to ache.
"To prove I am the better man. That I can give you everything that alien beast cannot."
His hand slipped into his pocket. When it emerged, a small velvet box rested in his palm. He opened it. The diamond inside was enormous. Cold. Garish. The kind of jewel meant to blind rather than impress.
"Victoria Smith," he continued, his voice dropping into a performance of wounded sincerity, "I never stopped loving you." Lies. The scent of him drifted faintly toward the wings—expensive cologne masking the bitter edge of arrogance. "I know you see the truth now," he went on. "That he's controlling. Smothering. That he sees you as property."
My claws threatened to break through skin.
"That he'll never treat you like an equal."
The beast roared inside my mind. Kill him.
"Come back to me. Be my wife. Not for show. Not for pretend. For real." He lifted the ring higher. "Let me give you the life you deserve."
Silence flooded the theater. Tori didn't move. Didn't speak. She simply stood there, looking down at him with a stillness so absolute it made my chest tighten. Seconds passed. Derek's smile faltered.
"Tori?" Nothing. "I love you," he pressed, irritation creeping into his voice. "Tell him you've chosen me." Still nothing. "Tori!" The man’s control cracked completely. "I came all this way. I made this grand gesture. The least you can do is?—"
“Derek.” She said his name. Nothing else. The pause was dramatic. Everyone in the audience was practically holding their breath.
He stilled immediately, the smug look back. Certain he had won when she smiled down at him.
If he had known her at all, he would have realized her expression was wrong. Cold. Sharp. Predatory. She took a small step away from him and lifted one hand—not toward Derek, not toward the audience—behind the cameras. The signal.
"FBI! FREEZE!"
The command exploded from every direction at once. Agents surged from the audience rows, from the backstage doors, from the aisles. Dark suits surrounded Derek in seconds, weapons raised, badges flashing beneath the lights. The trap snapped shut.
Derek scrambled to his feet. "What is this?" he shouted, fury replacing charm in an instant. "What are you doing?"
Special Agent Morris stepped forward, her voice cutting cleanly through the chaos. "Derek Sterling, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping, insider trading, securities fraud, conspiracy to commit murder—" she paused slightly, "—and several others I'm probably forgetting."
"You can't—" Derek's head whipped from side to side, searching for escape. "This is a mistake! I'm a billionaire! I have lawyers! I have?—"
"You have the right to remain silent." Agent Chen seized his arm, twisting it behind his back with efficient precision. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Tori!" Derek twisted violently, desperation finally breaking through his composure. "Tori, tell them! Tell them this is a mistake! Tell them we love each other!"
That was enough. I stepped out of the shadows. The audience gasped as I crossed the stage in three long strides. My arms wrapped around Tori's waist, pulling her firmly back against my chest. The moment our bodies touched, she melted against me—her head tipping back onto my shoulder, her hands sliding over mine, holding them there. The performance was over.
