Page 24

Ozias

A couple of hours later, the phone vibrated on the mahogany nightstand, slicing through the unspoken tension inside my bedroom.

I reached over and picked it up, glancing at the name illuminated on the screen—Cyrus Malone.

My heart skipped a beat. Cyrus wasn’t the type of man who called to shoot the shit; his call alone meant it was close to showtime.

A warning always came before destruction.

I answered calmly. “Cyrus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I answered, tone thick with sarcasm.

“Cut the shit, Ozias,” he replied in his typical greasy voice. “You know why I’m calling.”

“I do?”

A part of me was amused. I knew I had Demi right where I wanted her.

From the beginning, I didn’t hide anything from her about who her father was and his selfish intentions, and I showed her the actual value of her worth.

There was no way she’d go back to living under his thumb now that I’d given her the opportunity to taste true power.

That, and making her pussy bust like an AK every chance I got. She’d never leave me.

He scoffed. “You’ve been a tough man to track down, but you fucked with the wrong one this time. Tonight, all that changes. I’m sending my men in. Give me back Demi, and annul the marriage, or lose everything, including your fuckin’ life.”

My jaw clenched. “Is that a threat?”

“No,” Cyrus grumbled. “It’s a fuckin’ promise. My men and I are on their way to your gates as we speak. Armed and waiting. I want my daughter back in my custody in the next fifteen minutes or else. Tick-tock, mothafucka.”

Then, the line went dead.

Rage boiled inside me, scorching my veins and causing me to propel the phone across the room.

I stormed over to the window, needing to see for myself.

Sure enough, four pairs of headlights were driving up the curvy road to my iron gates, casting long shadows against my mansion.

I was able to make out figures of my men—armed—and standing the gate.

I spun around and raced to my bedside to immediately begin barking orders into the intercom.

“Get the fucking security team! I want every man available armed and at their posts now! We’re not letting these mothafuckas take a single step onto this property, and we’re damn sure not letting him take her! ”

Demi stood nearby with worry etched into her expression. “W-what’s happening?”

“Your father,” I answered curtly. “He’s come for you. He’s finally making his move.”

Her lips thinned. “He’s outside r-right now?”

“At the gates as we speak.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

I swung my head in a sharp no. “I’ll handle him. You stay here where it’s safe. I’ll send Javier to protect you.”

“No, Ozias. Absolutely not!”

“This isn’t up for fuckin’ debate, Demi. I said no!” I barked while pulling out my bulletproof vest.

My voice rose as I contemplated putting it on her, but knew it was two sizes too big for her small frame and would likely weigh her down. If it came down to it, I’d take a bullet for her with no question.

Her firm gaze met mine, equally determined. “You said it yourself. You need me,” she said, her tone softer but no less determined. “You said I was the queen, right? Then let me reign.”

I glared at her for a long minute, torn between my instinct to protect her and the fact that the truth she’d spoken had turned me on.

Finally, I nodded half-heartedly. “Fine. But your ass better stick to me like fuckin’ glue, Demi.

No hero bullshit. I may not have another vest, but I’m not letting you go out there without being strapped.

Have you ever shot a gun before? It’s real simple.

Aim at the fuckin’ enemy, release the safety, and pull that trigger as hard as you can. ”

“Okay,” she said, striding forward to stand at my side. “I can handle myself. I got it.”

I strapped us both up, and we went downstairs hand in hand. Outside, the rumble of engines grew louder, and the standoff between my men and his began to take shape at the gates.

As Demi and I stepped out of the mansion, the line of armed men stationed at the gates came into clearer sight, illuminated by the vehicle headlights of Cyrus Malone and his men.

We inched closer, walking in step with each other as if we were of one body.

At the heart of it all stood Cyrus, a towering melanated figure projecting a familiar aura of command even in the darkness of the night.

“Tell them to open the gates,” Demi instructed.

“No.”

“I know my father. He’s not going to back down until I’m on the other side of that gate.”

Instinctively, I gritted my teeth as my hand let go of hers to brush against the weapon holstered on my right hip.I knew she was right, but I still didn’t trust it.

“Please. It’s the only way to stop this.”

I sighed before signaling for the gates to open slightly.

Then, without notice, Demi broke into a dash. “Demi, stop!” I called out, my voice cracking through my clenched jaw, but she didn’t listen.

I broke out after her, halting only a couple of feet away when I saw her fling her arms around her father, burying her face in his broad shoulder.

For a heartbeat in time, everything seemed to freeze, and I felt the icy sting of disloyalty twist inside my chest. My jaw tightened so hard I thought I’d crack my teeth.

My doubt continued to blossom as negative thoughts danced through my head—had she led me into a fuckin’ trap?

Would she choose her family over me and everything I could give her?

For the first time, I didn’t know if Demi was riding for me or if she was riding against me.

It was a scary feeling, and I wasn’t the kind of man who was easily spooked.

Then, her soft voice sliced through the chaos.

“Daddy, please stop this!” she pleaded as she drew back to look him in the eyes.

“Ozias told me about your plans to force us to get an annulment so that you can marry me off to some Russian businessman to strengthen your alliances. I don’t want to be a pawn anymore, Daddy. I won’t do it.”

I watched her father’s expression darken as his jaw tightened like mine. “You’re my daughter, and you’ll do as you’re told,” he growled, his tone thick with malice.

“No!” she shot back, her tone sharp as a blade. “I’m done being treated like a pawn one minute and a piece of property the next! I’m not going back to Chicago with you. I choose to stay here with him. No annulment. No war. If you love me, you’ll agree to walk away without bloodshed.”

For a second, her father stared her down.

His stormy features were a blend of wrath and surprise.

Then he straightened his spine, and his expression turned as hard as granite.

“Oh, you na?ve little bitch. Don’t you know blood is the love language of the cartel?

That’s what you’re choosing to stay married to, which means you’re no daughter of mine,” he hissed, his tone sharp like the crack of a whip.

A muffled gunshot went off, and a sharp gasp from her lips split the air before Demi’s body jerked violently.

Her eyes widened in shock as she stumbled, her hand clutching her stomach.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as her body doubled over and her knees buckled beneath her.

She pulled her hand away to see a pool of crimson on her palm.

“No!” I yelled, my voice tearing from my throat, raw and gruff. Everything around me blurred as the sounds of the fight faded into the distance. All I could see was her, falling in excruciatingly slow motion. I lunged forward, catching her just before her head hit the cold, hard pavement.

Amid the chaos, her eyes fluttered open, and a tear slipped out the corner of her eye as she clung to me. “I-I. H-he s-shot . . .”

“Shh, mi amor ,” I whispered as I cradled her in my arms. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining both our hands. “You’re . . . okay,” I murmured, though my voice was weak.

Cyrus’s action had unleashed full-on anarchy.

The battle was deafening—gunfire crackling, shouts echoing, and the smell of smoke and blood filling the air as I shouted orders to my men, signaling the snipers on the roof and then the men on the ground to attack without mercy.

Wrath ignited me, a fire in my chest that burned more than any tequila, burning away any fear and hesitation inside me.

I moved like a man possessed by the devil himself, shielding Demi as I navigated us through the battlefield and back into the mansion.

I gently laid her down, my jaw set into a hard line and eyes blazing with a savage intensity to rip her father and his men to tiny shreds.

A loud roar came out of me as I summoned for someone to get her medical assistance.

She was losing more and more blood by the second and we didn’t have a minute to spare.

Rising to my feet, I turned back toward the fight, my war cry slicing through the night.

Above me, the moon hung high in the sky as the darkness stretched on for miles. The stars were barely detectable behind the curtain of gun smoke, wandering like lost souls through the night air. The ground beneath my feet was littered with expended shell casings, blood, bodies, and broken glass.

The grounds continued to erupt into a warzone, with echoing cracks and flashes of deadly gunfire.

I didn’t give a fuck. My eyes quickly scanned the scene, searching for Demi’s father.

Thoughts of Demi’s bleeding, helpless body danced through my head, powering my fury.

He’d hurt my wife, my reason for existing, and he deserved a fate worse than death.

Our feud had reached its boiling point, and neither of us was willing to back down.

It was a big joker, little joker situation, and I wasn’t about to get bitched.

My chest swelled with a deep breath as I reached for a grenade from my vest, pulled the pin, and launched it ten yards forward, firing as I moved closer, dead set on ending everything for good.

Seconds later, the blast rocked the Earth, throwing my enemies to the ground.

I plunged deeper into the chaos, my gun blazing, each shot fired with remorseless accuracy.

My men assembled behind me, inspired by my rage.

Gunfire sizzled through the air. I ducked behind an overturned truck, sweat trickling down my furrowed brow as I holstered my empty weapon and picked up a nearby assault rifle.

My heart jackhammered against my ribs as I shot up, advancing forward with my AK raised, finger trained on the trigger.

I fired at the hood of one of his flaming vehicles, bullets cracking against the bulletproof truck, sending fragments and gold sparks flying through the sky like fireworks.

For a blink in time, Cyrus and I locked eyes across the frontlines, both realizing that if we continued, one of us wouldn’t live to see the sunrise. I had every intention of that being him. Soon, the tide began to turn, and Cyrus’s men began to succumb to the attack.

But my mind was on tunnel vision. Things had gone too far and burned too deep to abandon.

It wasn’t a fight for survival, dominance, or power—it was fuckin’ personal.

Every order I barked, every kill shot I took, was my solemn vow to my wife: Cyrus Malone would pay for what he did in this life and the next.