Page 46 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

And just like that, it’s as though all of my prayers have been answered, every desperate little incantation that I sent up to whoever was listening has been actually heard and benevolently acknowledged.

He’s not dead, he’s not dead, he’s not dead.

It feels like something close to a miracle, and the tears brim in my eyes as I try to make sense of it, joy and relief and something else buzzing inside of me until the lines blur entirely.

Oh God, I’m not out of this yet.

And if Andreo was willing to shoot his father once, he will do it again, and this time, he will go for the kill. I try to pull open the door so I can rush out and warn Antonio, but just as I get my hands on it, I hear a lock click from the other side. That fucker! Andreo must know that I am what Antonio is looking for, and he’s willing to do anything to keep me under lock and key, quite literally.

I bang on the door, trying to be heard over the chaos of everything happening outside.

“Antonio! Antonio, I’m in here!”

But I’m not sure they can hear me.

Footsteps fill the air, the thunder of what must be a half dozen men bursting in on this place. Questions rush my mind. How did they find me? Is Andreo the only one here, or are there other men protecting this place? Is Antonio here for revenge?

I slam on the door desperately, trying to be heard over the chaos, and I pray that he will get to me soon. I don’t even want to think what might happen if Andreo moves in first, closes the distance between us and takes me away from Antonio in whatever way he can think of…

“Julia!”

I gasp as I hear Antonio’s voice again, and I press my ear to the door, as if I can reach through to him. “Antonio, I’m in here…”

I hear the lock jiggle on the other side, and then I can make out his voice once more.

“Julia, get away from the door. Step back.”

I do as I’m told, arms wrapped around myself, and stare at the door. There’s a thud followed by a loud crack, and then another, and then another—the door buckles dangerously in the frame, so close to giving way, but not quite moving yet.

I squeeze my hands into fists at my sides, trying to keep myself calm, but I’m not sure it’s working. God, I would do anything right now, anything just to see him, to prove to myself once and for all that he’s alive…

And then, finally, the door splinters in front of me, and I let out a breath as Antonio stumbles over the threshold. I stare at him for a moment, like he might be a mirage, like he might blink out of existence at any second. But he doesn’t.

He’s really there, standing before me, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he was never gone, like we were never apart.

I throw myself at him before I can think, wrapping my arms around him and clutching him with every inch of strength left in my body. I breathe in the scent of him. It’s him. It’s really, truly him.

“Julia,” he murmurs, face pressed to my shoulder, hands on my back, and I know he can feel it too. That distance, which nearly stretched to consume everything between us, falls away in a matter of moments. My breath comes in long, shuddering gasps, and I pull back, taking his face in my hands, staring at him, wondering if this is real—if my prayers have really been answered.

His bottom lip is bloody, and there’s a spattering of blood across his white shirt, darkening his skin. He cups my face with his hand and kisses me, hard—the kind of kiss that removes any doubt I might be holding on to that there is anything at all to fear.

Because, as long as he’s here, I know everything is going to be okay.

When he draws back, though, I hear something behind him—someone, rather. And my stomach drops when I realize that Andreo is watching us. I suddenly feel exposed, like he has seen something he never should have.

That fucker, I don’t want him laying eyes on me when I’m with Antonio, tainting whatever it is we have with his judgmental glower.

“You couldn’t even wait till you had her alone, huh?” Andreo snarls, as he moves into the room behind us. I can see Antonio’s men circling behind him, but Antonio raises a hand, telling them to keep their distance. This is still his son, after all, and he’s not going to let someone else put him down just like that.

“Andreo,” Antonio replies, his voice careful, measured. “Let her out of here.”

I cling to his arm, so tight that I’m sure my nails will leave marks. I don’t care. Now that he’s here, I refuse to be parted from him again. I fucking refuse. I can feel that draw to him, as strong as it ever was, something deep within me that insists that we stay close to one another.

Andreo’s lip curls back, his eyes cold, black, like a shark cutting through the water toward his prey.

“She was meant to be my wife, Dad, or did you forget that?” he demands, not taking his eyes off his father. He might be talking about me, but I’m nothing more than a pawn in all of this, a piece on the board he’s pushing around to hurt his father.

“You would never have even met her if she didn’t want me first,” he goes on, taking a step toward us. His gaze flicks with abject disgust toward me, and he shakes his head. “She’s the reason all of this happened. If you hadn’t married her⁠—”